Mourning Period by Hankster

Mourning Period
by: Hankster

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How long is it appropriate to mourn for someone you loved deeply and is lost to you forever? Is a week enough? A month? A year? Five years? Forever?

If someone cut off your right arm, when would you stop missing it? In a week? A month? A year? Five years? Never? Forever?

Perhaps it would be better to word these questions differently. Maybe I should ask how long SHOULD one mourn for a lost loved one? I am getting sick and tired of my parents and my friends telling me that it is time that I got over his death. “You’re still young and good looking,” they tell me. “Get on with your life. Don’t bury yourself with Frankie. After all, it’s been five years now.”

Francis Ryan Harrison! My love, my life, dead at twenty-nine. Mowed down at the pinnacle of his life by a drunken teen ager who showed no remorse at his trial; who left the scene of his crime and left Frank to die. Had he remained at the scene, a simple phone call might have saved Frank’s life. Two years for involuntary manslaughter, sentence reduced to probation for a first offense. Still no gratitude shown. Still no remorse evident. Life is not fair. He has been gone nearly five years now. It isn’t fair, not to him, not to me.

I loved him so much. I miss him so much. Frank, with whom I shared life’s most intimate moments, most intimate pleasures, I still love him. Often I think of killing myself so I can be reunited with him. But I won’t do it. What if there is no God and what if I never get to be with Frank again? Worse yet, what if there is a God and he sends me to hell for murdering myself, and I never see Frank again for all eternity? The thought is unbearable for me, and so I stay my hand.

Each day, I rise and go to work. I perform my duties robotically. I no longer love my work or have any interest in it. I just want the day to be over so I can go home and get into bed, our bed, Frank’s and mine. I pretend he is lying beside me. I can smell his essence, especially the musky smell of his cock and balls. I long to kiss his mouth, tickle his ears with my tongue, suck his balls and run my tongue up and down the shaft of his uncut cock. Each day it gets harder to imagine myself doing those things. The memories are dimming, but my mourning and the misery of living life without Frank is constantly with me. No dimming or diminishing there.

Since Frank was murdered (I will always consider it to be a cold-blooded murder, no matter what the law says) I have had no sexual desires to be with anybody else. I have no libido to speak of. Occasionally I jerk myself off, but even that is a rare event. I might as well become a monk. Now in my mid-thirties, I even have a wet dream now and then. What next? Acne?

I hardly eat real food any more. You would think that I would lose weight and waste away. Not so. I eat junk food and all the wrong fast foods so I have put on a lot of pounds since Frank’s murder. Too bad that there is nobody around to enjoy my “love handles.” I stopped working out at the gym and what muscles I had are quickly turning to fat and flab, but I don’t give a damn. My parents have a good cry every time they see me or talk to me. My friends have given up on me. None of them want to be anywhere around me. I don’t blame them. I am virtually becoming a hermit, and that life style is my choice. I don’t mind at all.

I still watch television on occasion, but I have no idea what I am watching. Sports? Old movies? Talk shows? Reality shows? Don’t ask me. I am clueless. I am the first to admit that I have become a useless human being. I’m sorry about that, but I simply can’t function anymore without Frank. I haven’t bought a new piece of clothing in five years, and that’s what brought me to The Gap.

I wrote those words in my journal a few weeks ago and now I am beginning to come back to life. Allow me to continue writing in my journal. It helps me to clear my head.

I awoke on the fifth anniversary of Frank’s murder. It was a beautiful late spring morning, and for some reason I felt that I could not bare to spend yet another lonely day in the apartment I had shared with my love, especially on the anniversary of his death. I made myself a cup of coffee and nothing more. This was intended to be my breakfast until I could grab a hamburger with fries and maybe an apple pie at McDonalds.

I put on a sport shirt but quickly changed to a polo shirt. I could not button up the sport shirt without creating unsightly gaps that showed off my burgeoning tummy. Then when I put on my favorite jeans, I couldn’t close the waist without sucking in a few inches. My love handles were bulging over my belt. I looked in the mirror and realized that they were no longer love handles. I was displaying layers of fat, and I was well on my way to becoming an obese individual. My impending obesity did not happen overnight, and I had to ask myself why I had not noticed it before today. I could only wonder what my ill-fitting clothes made me look like at work. For the first time in five years I gave a rational thought to me, myself, and I. I vowed to go back to the gym and lose these excess and unwanted pounds. Would you believe that I actually felt guilty that I had these thoughts, the thoughts of an alive person? My Frankie was dead and I wasn’t supposed to have a thought in my head concerning my appearance. To me, at that moment, I had committed a mortal sin.

I sucked in my gut, got in my car and headed for the mall. When I got there, my first thought was to go to the food court and have something sweet for breakfast, brunch now, maybe a sweet roll and more coffee. I realized what my thought process was and I was angry at myself. I did something else instead, something that made me proud and then guilty again. I spotted a group of “mall walkers” taking their morning exercise, and I decided to join them.

I walked around the mall with them for nearly an hour, but I didn’t speak to any of them. When they dispersed, they nodded at each other as a sort of goodbye and they did not exclude me. I got the oddest feeling. Wouldn’t you? It was my first social interaction with other human beings in five years. (My work environment was not social.) I felt guilty again at first, but then I suddenly felt good about it, and I smiled back.

Later, when I browsed around at The Gap, I selected two new pairs of jeans and three new sport shirts. Up to now I had always bought medium sport shirts. I selected three large ones. I knew that they would fit, but I wasn’t sure about the jeans so I headed for the dressing rooms. There were several of them available, and as I walked toward one, I was passed by a very young man who entered right into the room I was headed to. He was beautiful. I’d put his age at 19 or 20. He was about 6’ 1” tall. His straight black hair was shoulder length. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes. He was wearing a tank top that was really too tight on him. His muscles bulged beyond belief. His jeans were tighter than mine, on purpose, I’m sure. The dressing room had a saloon type door. I could see him from his shoulders up and from his shins down. I was transfixed by his beauty and I just stood there staring at the dressing room. I had no sexual thoughts about the young man at that time. I just stared and admired what I saw.

All he took in with him were jeans, so I was confused when he stripped off his shirt. His muscles bulged even more. Then he dropped his jeans and stepped out of them. His legs were so muscular, I wondered if he was a dancer. I expected that he would immediately try on a pair of jeans, but instead he preened for a bit in front of the mirror. He was admiring his cock no doubt, or at least that’s what I thought. I was still frozen and made no effort to try on my own selections. I just continued to stare at the guy; what I could see of him, that is. I was shocked at myself. I was turned on by another human being for the first time in five years. This guy had finally fired up my long dormant libido. I thought about celebrating, and of course, that conjured up thoughts of food, so I quickly erased the idea.

The hottie bent down for a moment to put on one of the pairs of jeans he had taken in with him. At that moment I was diverted and my eyes happened to glance over to the clerk at the register. He was gawking too. He must have seen me staring as well, and that embarrassed me, so I finally went into one of the dressing rooms.

While I tried on my selections, my mind began to race. I was trying to figure out ways to meet this guy. I was sure he would be gone by the time I tried on the jeans. How wrong I was. He was still preening when I was finished. I could have paid for my purchase and left, but I continued to browse.

Hottie came out of the room and went to the clerk who had been staring at him. The clerk completed the sale without once displaying any of his emotions. I was standing right behind hottie at the register and I whispered in his ear, “Meet me at the food court. I’ll buy you lunch.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “Not this time, fatso.”

That brought me back to reality quickly enough. I was devastated. I knew I had gained weight these past five years, but I didn’t realize how much. The hottie ran off and I put my clothes on the counter. As the clerk ran up the sale, he smiled at me and said, “Hot hunk of man isn’t he? That was quite a show he put on for us.” I smiled back and left the store. I just wanted to get home to my hermitic life and to my solo man-cave after having been caught making a fool of myself.

In spite of how much I couldn’t wait to bury myself at home again, I made two stops on the way. The first stop was at the gym where Frank and I used to work out. I renewed my membership. I looked all round and did not see one person who worked there five years ago, or who worked out there five years ago either. Then I stopped at a super market. I bought some healthy foods and vowed to start exercising and dieting immediately. I didn’t even care if I had to get rid of the new clothes I had bought today. I figured that some AIDS charity would be glad to have it.

When I got home there was a message from my mother. I rarely returned my parents’ calls any more, but this was a new day somehow, and I listened to the message.

“I know I’m wasting my breath,” she started, “but I’ll give it another try. “Cissy, Dan and the kids are coming for dinner Friday night. Your dad and I would love for you to come also. Please call me back. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ma,” I said to the answering machine, and I called back.

My sister Celia, her husband Dan and my two nephews had tried to include me in their lives since Frank was murdered. Until that awful day, she, Dan, Frank and I were as close as family could be, but I had shut them out like I did everybody else. They tried to reach out to me and I rejected their efforts, driving us further apart.

My mother answered after one ring. When I told her I was coming, she shrieked into the phone.

“Have some pity on my ear drums,” I laughed.

“Davey,” she said, “I love you so much. I miss you so much.” Then for fear of offending me she added, “I miss Frankie too, you know.”

“I know Ma,” I said. “I’ll see you Friday evening. What time?”

“Come at five so we can talk a little.” She had second thoughts. “Come whenever. This is your house too.” I kissed her mentally on her forehead.

Over the next few weeks, I began to work out regularly and dieted intelligently with the help of a coworker, who is married to a nutritionist. At the end of three weeks, I had lost twelve pounds. My face lost its bloat and I actually began to see a glimmer of my old self. Every day I prayed that I would run into the hottie again. This time he would find me desirable and then I would reject him and have my sweet revenge. It became an obsession. All of a sudden I began to whack off again amidst fantasies that I was making mad, passionate love to the hottie. Better yet he was returning my love making.

As I lost weight, I began to realize how old and tired my wardrobe was, and I started to replace a good deal of it. I bought whatever I could at The Gap, but I had an ulterior motive. I was hoping to run into the hottie again. During that process, I began to chat regularly with the clerk who also had eyes for my hottie. He was not good looking and his body was very average (who was I to complain?) but he was my age and we had a lot in common.

Imagine my shock when Teddy asked me if I would like to have dinner with him one night. I was tempted, but I viewed it as being unfaithful to Frankie or at least, unfaithful to his memory. I had to say no, but we had become good enough friends that I felt that I owed him an explanation. I didn’t want him to think that I was spurning him.

“Ted,” I said simply. “I’d like to do that but I’m in mourning for my late partner and I’m just not ready yet.”

“Please,” Ted said, “don’t think of it as a date. Let’s just be two friends having dinner together. I won’t push you for anything or demand anything from you. I promise. Besides, I’ve been told that I have a great shoulder to cry on.”

Ted’s argument was compelling. I still wasn’t sure, so I said to him, “Please give me your home phone number and I’ll call you soon.”

“Only if you give me yours,” he replied. His eyes suddenly turned from mine and I looked to see what he was staring at. There was my hottie (hotter than ever) browsing among the tank tops.

Insensitively, I left Ted and strolled over to my hottie and began browsing as well. I made sure to accidently bump into him and I mumbled an apology.

“It’s Ok,” he said and he smiled at me. It seemed that I didn’t disgust him this time.

“Do you shop here often?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. It’s my favorite store,”

Just then, a beautiful young woman approached him and said, “C’mon Frankie, we’ll be late for dinner.”

It was all I could do to keep my composure. His name was Frankie and worse, he must be straight, judging by the beautiful girl calling him to dinner. I could never handle all of that. Seduction was out of the question.

I must have slumped where I stood, because I heard Ted ask me if I was all right. I didn’t answer until I felt him shaking my shoulder. “Yes,” I said. “Let’s have dinner together soon. Would tonight be too soon? It’s not a good time for me to be alone.”

“Tonight would be fine,” he answered simply.

“Are you sure about this? I may not be very good company.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll go some place quiet, where we can both talk.”

At dinner, Ted took my hand. I let him. “Frank and I met at a house party in the home of a mutual friend,” I began my narrative. “He had just arrived from Chicago to begin his first job in the New York office of a large law firm. My friend knew Frank from his days at the University of Chicago Law School. I must admit that it was not love at first sight. Frank was so good looking, I falsely assumed that he would be very vain and I sort of shied away from him. It was he who eventually came over to me. I was talking to our host and he politely waited for a break in the conversation.

“He smiled at me and said, ‘Joey here tells me that you and he work together.’ It was an inane opening and I realized that he was trying to start a conversation with me. I think Joey realized the same thing and he suddenly disappeared. He told me later that it was a deliberate attempt at match making. Obviously it worked.”

“Are you going to tell me that it was love at first sight and you slept together that very first night?” Ted interrupted me.

“Not by a long shot. Frank intimidated me. Nobody that good looking ever showed an interest in me. We chatted cordially for awhile until I was able to break away from him. A few days later he called me at work. He asked me to have dinner with him. I was stunned, but I accepted. FYI we slept together for the first time after our third date.” I put my head down and started to cry softly. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“No need to apologize,” Ted said. I looked at him and saw that tears had welled up in his eyes also. I foolishly believed he was crying for Frank. He already knew how Frank was murdered. “I lost my love also,” he said simply.

I suddenly realized how selfish I had been. I had only thought about myself. I was full of self pity. I had divorced myself from the world at large. I had let myself grow portly due to gluttony. Damned if I wasn’t a sinner. But here was a fellow human being who was suffering too. He was still holding my hand. I placed my free hand on top of his and asked him how he had lost his love.

“Jimmy was killed by a land mine in Iraq,” Ted stated simply. It was obvious that he would say no more. We sat in silence for a long time. Our hands were still clasped. Finally Ted said, “It’s been a wonderful evening. I’ve enjoyed it. We should do it again soon.”

I didn’t know what to say so I just nodded. When we left the restaurant we went our separate ways. Ted promised to call me soon for another non-dinner date. I was content that Ted was satisfied to be just friends. After that we had dinner together at least one day a week on the weekend. We went to a few shows together, and one day we actually went roller skating. We were both so inept that we could not stop laughing at each other. I actually laughed with another person. After I got over my shock, the guilt returned. I know now that I had what they call survivor’s guilt. It’s a terrible thing really.

I still could not bring myself to go out with friends who had been mutual friends with Frank and me. I stupidly avoided seeing these old buddies. As my metamorphosis continued all that would change.

The next big awakening came after Ted and I had been “seeing each other” for about seven months. I was now thinner and more solid than I had been before Frank’s murder. I went to The Gap for some much needed new clothing and there was my hottie at the tank tops again. Ted was with him seemingly trying to assist a customer. He and hottie were obviously flirting with each other.

I grew insanely jealous, but not jealous of the hottie. I was jealous of Ted flirting with someone who wasn’t me. Is that insane? I was convinced that I could never love anybody ever again. I couldn’t believe how I was feeling. I never entered the store and I ran a country mile.

I didn’t see or call Ted for nearly a week. Finally he called me to find out if I was OK and wondering where I had been.

“What’s it to you?” I grew belligerent again like I had been during the beginning of my mourning period. “I’m sure you took that hot little number home and got plenty of action.” I practically spat at the poor guy.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ted spat back at me. I told him how I had seen him and hottie flirting with each other and he started to laugh.

“You’re a bigger jerk than I thought. I flirt with all my customers who I think are gay. It adds considerably to my commission check. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I care about you. I care a lot about you. I enjoy being your friend and doing things together, but I want more from you. I’ve been really patient, hoping you would come back to life. I loved Jimmy just as much as you loved Frank, but I have to continue my life. He would have wanted me to. Don’t you think Frankie wants you to be happy? Do you think he wants you moping around and shutting out everyone who loves you? I love you, you blind fuck.”

I was stunned, and Ted left me incapable of a response. The silence was forever until finally Ted hung up the phone. After I hung up at my end, I fell onto my bed and cried for hours. I begged Frankie over and over to forgive me for my unfaithfulness. I swore I would never love another. All the while I was telling Frank these things, I knew that Ted’s tirade was harsh, but true. I began to think that I was falling in love with him. It would explain my jealousy. That realization made me beg Frank to forgive me with even more fervor.

I don’t know how long I lay on my bed. I know that I was curled up in a fetal position and I was crying non-stop. The crying was what I needed. When Frank was murdered I was bitter and unforgiving. I felt that I was as much a victim of a cruel and unfair life as he was, but I don’t remember ever crying. Now that I was, it was wonderfully cathartic. I also remember lying there feeling cold and hungry. I was finally diverted from my self-pitying reveries by a knock on my front door. I was such a hermit I couldn’t imagine who it could be.

“Go away,” I yelled out.

The knocking only grew louder. When I still didn’t answer the door, the knocking grew louder still. “You might as well answer the door,” a voice said. “If you don’t I’ll call the police and your landlord to make sure you’re alive.” That did it. The last thing I needed was a scene which would be witnessed by all my neighbors. I got out of bed and opened the door.

Ted stood at the door and I barely recognized him. He looked worse than I did. His eyes were red and swollen and his hair was uncombed. He definitely looked like he had been crying too. He didn’t wait for an invitation. He walked in and closed the door behind him.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry. I had no right to say those things to you. Who am I to tell you to stop mourning Frank. I’m not even over my loss yet. I just put on a better show than you. Please, please, I beg you to forgive me. I’ll never butt into your life again.” He turned and started toward the door.

I grabbed his arm and turned him to me. My head was full of a million mixed emotions, but only one thing came to my mind. I wanted desperately to kiss this man. He was the best friend I had in the world. He was the only friend I had who could imagine my agony. I held him to me and placed my lips on his. He responded by clutching me tighter.

His lips, warming mine, triggered all my emotional memories. Instinctively I parted my lips as he parted his, and I felt his tongue tickling mine. I was instantly aroused and pushed my growing cock against his body. Without any conscious thought my arms ran up and down Ted’s back. I caressed his butt, and I remember thinking that it wasn’t as round and firm as Frank’s. I really couldn’t care less. I was aroused and I was falling in love and I wanted desperately to express these feelings with Ted.

I led him to my bed which was wet with my tears. Ted was fully dressed, but I was wearing only my boxer shorts. I took them off and lay down on the bed. I held out my arms welcoming him into my bed and into my arms. Ted undressed quickly. Seconds later we were wrapped up together. Our bodies were pushed together and seemed to be desperately trying to meld into one. I felt his cock rubbing against mine. Everything was happening so fast I didn’t even remember seeing him after he undressed. I wondered if he was cut or not and how big he was. I really didn’t care, but Frank had been uncut and I sort of hoped it would be true for Ted also. I wasn’t about to ask him. He had rolled me on my back and his tongue was descending down my body.

When he started to suck my cock, I sobbed and mumbled out loud, “Ted, I am so sorry.” He stopped sucking me, and jumped back to lie beside me.

“Am I moving too fast?” he asked.

“No, No. I’m sorry we waited this long. Please don’t stop. It’s been so long.” Ted smiled at me and kissed me again before he went down on me. I came in his mouth faster than I wanted to. He scooted up to lie beside me again and he began to kiss me. We shared my cum.

“Just give me a moment to recover,” I told him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Ted said. “I’ll understand.”

“Oh, I want to,” I assured him. Moments later I discovered that Ted was cut. I wasn’t disappointed. I sucked him with all the passion I could muster up. The moment I felt his balls shrinking I stopped. I kept him on the edge. He hated me for it and he loved me for it. I reached in the drawer of my bedside table and found some old condoms. I wondered if they were still good. They seemed to be. I unrolled one on Ted’s pleading cock. I also extracted a tube of lube from the drawer. It was so old it was more liquid than gel but it did the trick. I lubed Ted’s cock and my ass and I sat down on him. Frankie had an oversized cock and I guess I hadn’t shrunk much because Ted slipped right into me with relative ease.

I can’t describe to you, how wonderful it felt to have a good size cock up my ass again. I fairly swooned. I rode him up and down. Ted was moaning and thrusting like a mad man. When he came I could feel his cum coating my ass. The rubber hadn’t held after all. I couldn’t care less. It felt real good to have cum coating my ass again. Celibacy sucks.

When I felt Ted’s cum spurting into me, I was suddenly filled with guilt again. I forced my rational self to take over and I knew that Frank would want me to be happy. I began to believe that maybe Frank and Jimmy were orchestrating this whole thing. It made me feel better.

We languished in bed for a while and then we showered together. After the shower we cuddled in bed, and as we were falling asleep I asked Ted in a baby voice, “Will you be my feller?”

Ted laughed. “You bet I will,” he whispered in my ear.

“In that case,” I said, “you are stuck going to dinner with me at my parents’ home Friday night and meeting my whole family. We have dinner together every Friday.”

“No problem,” Ted laughed. “We face my family on Saturday.”

“My family will love you,” I said.

“And my family will adopt you,” Ted concluded as we drifted off.

I write this narrative one year to the day after Ted and I entered into our committed relationship. I have grown to love him more every day and he claims it’s the same way with him. We never forget Jimmy and Frank.

If your heart is big enough, you can love more than one person in this lifetime. To answer the question I asked at the beginning, I will never stop mourning Frank’s loss, but I have found love, peace and serenity with Ted.

Posted: 08/19/11