So there is but fire In you, in me?

Every time I felt that I knew, and dared a question I was told to 'drop it!' or given reassurance that felt empty (because I was being lied to.) The small details that pointed towards truth, like myriad compass needles embedded in his attitude, my feelings, possibly her scent even.  Were telling me the truth. But I was told No...always no. Lies told, not to make me feel guilty.  He said. He told lies to 'protect me'. Didn't I see how stressed he was, how tired, how hard everything was... And "I'm still here aren't I"  Implication being- "I don't want to be". This is where it gets nasty. I was to blame because I would be  upset.  Today was the last time. Enough. I chose to call this process out.  It is not gaslighting exactly but it has the same slippery feel. Close enough, too close... He had left two weeks ago with an ambiguous, "I'll do my dad's house up and sell it and then we will see". So today I asked him if a

Suddenly I find myself in the most Goth of Gothic tales.  A theory that fits, yet doesn't resolve. The idea that failure to grieve can leave the bereaved compelled to.... Reanimated the dead.  To this end, sacrifice your life, sacrifice who and what you are. Descending into total unconsciousness become the dead.  Wow... Where do I fit in here? I am part of the sacrifice, or rather I'm supposed be. Yet I refuse to run, I refused to be shocked into oblivion. Instead I loved and cried and would not say goodbye..  Where do I fit in? Staying out of this katabasis makes sense. It feels like possession, and there is no sanity.  Doing what I'm doing, responding with love and kindness, and as if none of the bad stuff counts is the path of integrity, for me anyway.  Meanwhile this really is the best opportunity I've ever had to finally get to grips with the pain. That pain of abandonment that is always lurking in my shadow, the pain other people eventually embody for me. My grief