I had just about lost my will to keep up with this blog. As the second week since burying him approached, the crushing weight of lost love began to crack my foundation further. I cry all morning, I cry all night. I cry seeing his picture, I cry reading his name, I cry thinking of all the stories I wish I asked him to record so I could listen to them again...
I began to feel the real truth set in: No one loves me anymore.
** Don't object, let me finish. **
The love of friends, children and relatives is not the love of a spouse.
That is a unique role for one person only. And that person is dead.
No more hugs, no more kisses, no more dancing, no more inside jokes, no more shared memories, no more tenderness, no more being protected from any number of threats, no more hand holding, no more laying my head on his shoulder.
Never. Again.
I went to him in the cemetery many times, putting out orange mums and talking to him, happy to see others had been there as well.
However, the sadness ate at me day and night. I hadn't dealt with Anger in my grief, the vast majority of which was Bargaining, Depression and a fair amount of Denial. But the Rage began growing.
I began to feel myself recoil when some people who have not lost a spouse, been through a cancer journey or the like would give me "Words of Wisdom". Often times more of a slogan.
These people mean well, and are most likely at a loss for words -- and I don't want to lash out in my grief and frighten, so in my head privately the words would burn:
Oh yeah? Is that how you got through it when your wife wasted away in front of you, started vomiting, shaking, losing oxygen to her brain... when she took poison for you... poison that didn't work and killed her more painfully and ruthlessly... and then you watched her take her last breath and held her and kissed her as she turned yellow and hardened... is that how you got through it?
People say "I can't imagine..." If you can't imagine it why do you think you can solve it?
Do you want to imagine it? So you'll really know?
Maybe you shouldn't...
I stop myself. I can't afford to burn bridges. So the words would fester in my heart. I go back to missing him, talking to him, putting out every meal for him. Eventually even that sacred practice would start to hurt. I started crying over the sink one morning, pouring cream in his coffee saying "Jesus Christ, why am I doing this... why do I do this..."
I began to sink lower and lower. The busy work of estate settling became excruciating.
Having to track down his publishing contracts and looking at the art he dearly wanted to finish but couldn't. Seeing the plots for novels he dreamed of writing. Photocopying his death certificate, photocopying our marriage license (seeing our 16th anniversary coming up in just a week) unable to even bring myself to take money out of his wallet - it just doesn't feel right... and dreaming about him...
A: "Which Joker are you going to draw? Which version?"
V: "I don't know...."
Then he gets up from his chair, says to me
A: "Hey, are we OK? Me and you?"
V: "Yeah of course. What do you mean?"
And as he walks away, still turning to look at me smiling, turns into a ghost and disappears into the wall.
I woke up and cried. Missing him is becoming too much to bear. By now I've cried so much and for so long my lower lids sting from the salt.
One morning as I was driving to mail a copy of our marriage license to a bank, a giant white GMC truck came screeching up to my driver's side window, almost smashing me into oblivion. It was my fault. As my mind began to wander, thinking of Andy, I completely missed him coming and cut him off. Rightfully he was livid, yelling and waving his fists. I cowered in my seat and tried to find a place to pull over and gather myself.
The only person I wanted to talk to, to be held by, to be comforted by - is gone.
My rage began to intensify and culminated in emotionally-intense and terse text exchanges, screaming matches over the phone with family, smashing a basket of food on the floor and running into the basement to wail and slam on Andy's heavy bag until I collapsed on the dusty cement in tears.
And then, something wonderful happened.
The sun came out and I decided to go for a drive up one of our favorite roads to take in the fall color and clear my mind before it was time to put the car away for the winter. I turned up the music and felt the fall air in my lungs.
I sat on a sunny hillside for a very long time. Doing nothing.
I stopped at a small farm stand to get some pumpkins.
I imagined Andy was with me, choosing the shapes he liked.
I drove to the cemetery to talk to him and cry. Then, before coming home, I felt compelled (even switching my turn signal at the last second) to stop by a lake where we had lunch 10 years ago.
We were new to this side of the city, and I have happy memories of us slowly walking the grass, talking about decorating the house for Halloween, and ranking the pizza and subs from the market now within walking distance of our new place.
I found the picnic table where we sat and shared sandwiches. Our first picnic to celebrate closing on our house 10 years ago this week. The sunlight filtered through the fall color just like it had a decade ago. I pictured him sitting next to me, sharing an Italian sub.
When I came home, the sandwich I left on Andy's plate had a single bite taken out of it.
I have absolutely no memory whatsoever of doing this.
Suddenly I erupted in uncontrollable giddy laughter. My heart felt an overflow of love and warmth, the way I would feel when he hugged me. Tears welled up and I started jumping up and down, flying into the bedroom to clutch his pillow and laughing:
"You came home!! You're back!
You came back...
oh sweetheart... you came back...."
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Many, many thanks to such beautiful people:
Noelle, Kim, Alexa, Audra, Kate, Courtney, and Patty
