Thursday, August 14, 2014

~ It Has Been ....

... a little over a month.
33 days to be exact.
792 hours,
47,520 minutes,
2,851,200 seconds
of excruciating pain.
Of devastating loneliness.
Of feeling lost in a fog of disbelief.
I can go for hours at a time without crying.
That's if I keep myself so busy that I don't have time to think.
About anything.
And then .... wham .... out of nowhere something just knocks the wind right out of me.
And I cry uncontrollably.
I cry from so deep within that my body shakes with each tear.
Lately, these are some of the things that make me cry.
Places he sat on .... in .... by .... during his last weeks.
His walker sits by the bed ... waiting for him to get up and attempt to get around.
I see it there and it makes me cry.
He fought so hard to not get to this point ...
but he accepted it like a gentleman when he realized it was a necessity. 
And that makes me cry. 
His office chair ... waiting for him to start his work day.
I walk past this room and step back and look in.
They came and took his office computer away.....another piece of him gone.
Sometimes at night when I can't sleep
I get up and sit in this chair in the dark
and I cry.
His chair at the table.
Waiting for him to arrive for a feast.
The last few weeks ... especially days ...
he wasn't doing very much eating.
But he'd sit there and watch and wait for me to eat.
And he'd tell me how good it looked.
How good it smelled.
But he just wasn't hungry.
And that makes me cry.
The chair in the sunroom.
It's funny how we hadn't used that room much in the last few years.
But in the last few weeks of his life
we used this room!!!
We'd get up and he'd sit there and read the paper.
Drink his Orange/Pineapple Juice.
Take his multitude of pills.
We'd talk about the condo and what was being done to it.
We'd talk about colors and furniture and countertops and tile.
I'd watch him fall asleep on this chair in the middle of conversations.
In the middle of phone conversations.
In the middle of texting someone.
Sleep was absorbing him more and more.
And then he couldn't come downstairs anymore to sit in this room with me.
And that makes me cry.
When I thought that he would be coming with me to New Hampshire and the condo
we couldn't wait to leave this house and get up there.
Now that he is gone
I am finding it very difficult to wrap my head around leaving here.
I am so dang emotional about leaving here.
He's everywhere.
Sometimes I swear I can smell him.
He's here.
Will I be abandoning him when I leave?
Will he know to come with me?
And that makes me cry.
My Throw Back Thursday shot:
I love you.
I will love you until I die.
And if there is life after that,
I will love you then.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

~ I Am A ...

... Widow.
It sucks.
It hurts.  A lot.
Being a widow makes me sad.
It makes me lonely.
It makes me angry.
It makes me cry.   A lot.
I am scared.
I am grieving.
I am crying.
I am a widow.
And it sucks.
Everything seems muted.
There is very little color in my life right now.
No happiness.
Just sorrow.
No smiles.
Just tears.
And it sucks.
July 12, 2014.
A day I will never forget.
It is circled on the calendar.
It has been 25 days.
600 hours.
36,000 minutes.
And it sucks.
It sucks.  A lot.
Yet I cannot flip the calendar page to August.
It sits on my wall as July.
Occasionally I walk by and pound the date with my fist.
I scream at it.
I swear at it.
I hate it.
I hate it with all of my being.
Yet I cannot flip the calendar page to August.
I am a widow.
And it sucks.