Welcome to the wonderful and wacky world of being smacked in the face with the suckitude of loss at random times for no real reason.
Yesterday was a long day, I had to go to court almost 2 hours away to see the dude who robbed me and stole my car, waited for hours only to be told there was an extension. Not a big deal I have come to expect this nonsense here in the DR. Got home and was talking to a friend about plans this weekend. Was tired so I logged off and went to bed early-ish.
And woke up so many times I lost count. Not because I woke up, but because I woke up in tears. Inconsolable sadness. Missing Michael. I’d drift off and start to dream about him, and then wake up and sob myself back to sleep. On it went until 4:15 when I finally got out of bed.
Checked my emails and learned that someone very special to me lost her battle with cancer yesterday and is with the angels.
So many thoughts…here we go on the random ride that is my brain.
- Why do we feel bad for the dead? “Oh poor Michael, why did he have to die?” is something I’ve heard more times than I can count. I believe it was a gift to him for being a superb human being. Living this life is not fun or easy. The good ones are just that. Too good for this hell.
- When are we as a society going to give a shit about the survivors? I literally can’t believe that I was told to get over my grief. It’s 2019, assholes. Read an article. Learn. Or shut your mouth.
On being victimized:
- I was at court yesterday and sitting very close to a person who has wronged me. There was no pretense of friendship, no feelings of “I better not say anything because I don’t want to start a big thing”. Is there a difference in levels of wronging someone? Is his robbery worse than or better than a rape? What about kicking a dog? What about being just a shitty person and intentionally hurting someone? Where does that fall on our spectrum? In my world, there are no levels. You wrong someone, you wronged them. You hurt someone, you APOLOGIZE. You don’t justify.
- Let me be clear. I’ve been wronged. In a big way. In the DR. I’m not sure how to talk about it without stooping to the level of those who have wronged me, so I’m choosing not to talk about it. I will just say that gaslighting is a very real thing.
And finally, on holidays.
I don’t remember last year. I know I was completely alone on Thanksgiving. I remember this because it was my first real consideration of suicide. I don’t remember Christmas or New Year’s or anything else.
Thanksgiving was a special time for Michael and me. None of our kids seemed to really want to participate in our lives very much, so we always made it our own. We’d offer the open house meal and a couple of kids would stop by for a bit, but the rest of the 4 day weekend was ours. We made mexican food and binge-watched shows. We drank mimosas for breakfast. We always fit a date or two in there, and really just enjoyed each other’s company. It was OUR four days every year to just be together and form our own traditions. Obviously that era ended abruptly, as the very first Thanksgiving weekend without him I was desperately alone for 4 days. Sure, I got the pity invites but sitting at a table with a bunch of strangers who know me as the woman whose husband just died was not my idea of pleasantry.
And now it’s coming. And so is Christmas. So are the traditions, the love, the merriment. This is my first holiday season away from anyone in my former life, and I’m dreading Christmas most of all. I wish I could cancel it. I wanted to bring my daughter down, but she wants to come in January instead. I’m dreading it all.
Any maybe all of this is why I was waking up from dreams of him and sobbing. I miss him. I’ll never NOT miss him. I’ll never be able to joke with him or feel his arms around me. I’ll never get another trademark Michael hug, or watch Breaking Bad with him. I’ll never smell him, as the smell has left all of his tshirts I kept. I’ll never hear him. He’s just. Gone.
And I’m giving myself permission to curl up into a ball. Judge if you want. I don’t care. This is my process. MINE. And I need to curl up in a ball and cry today. Not for Michael. He’s in no pain. I’m gonna cry for ME. Because I need to.
Over and out. And as always,