Skip to main content

companionship

i get these moments.  they are coming less and less frequently of course, but they still come.  tonight is friday night.  for those of you who are unaware, friday night is a couple's night.  it's a bottle of red, take out and let's talk about our feelings kind of night.

the kids went hard today, playing and running around and in turn, i put in a good amount of effort at bedtime as they were both overtired and doing their just absolute favorite game which is trading off screaming.  all of a sudden, like magic, they were both out by 7:23.  in my old life, this would have me running around, celebrating in sweats, jim and i high-fiving at our good fortune and amount of TV we could cram in together, cuddled on the couch.

tonight i just stood there, looking at the numbers on my stove.  the stark realization that my life-sharer was absent, and would forever be absent.



sometimes i wonder if i'm really healing or just getting better at blocking it out.  mentally, most of the time i just don't go there.  the horror that i lived for twelve days is too much.  i don't know what other victims do, sometimes i think about it, people who live through torture or imprisonment and survived.  do they just block it out?  can you heal from it?  a big part of me thinks that i won't ever heal on this earth.  if you love, some wounds just cut too deeply to ever close.

if you got to the top, you gotta go to the bottom.


the crazy thing is, most days (i mean some not the case) but most days i am strong enough to say i would do it over again, to say i would choose him over again.  i remember taking a walk with him one evening and telling him that almost every good thing in my life had resulted from meeting him.  never in my life have i felt more complete love than when i was with him, and never ever have i loved someone so fully and completely.  what we had is so difficult to put into words, even as a self-proclaimed writer, i fail.  i can't describe to you the comfort, the safety, the security that being with him provided me.  i mean the man worked two minutes away and came home to see us on lunch for fuck's sake.

it's so weird to me that when elly and jim died some people chose to immediately bring up "well, at least you have the other two" or "don't worry you're young, you'll get married again" - that one i hear a lot.  it's not that i don't want to get married again or even that i can't see myself getting married again.  it's just - to cheapen what jim and i treasured and honed and worked at for six years to a passing fling of "it will find you again" is insane to me.  not to mention by the way folks, just got burned by love pretty badly, not really looking to just jump back into a relationship.

i know though, that people mean well, that most are probably just trying to instill hope and vibrancy into my life.  i also know that as much as i talk, which is a lot, i am, at the end of the day, the only person in my own head, just like jim was the only person in his.  so, on an existential level, isn't this human experience we share bizarre?  so many connected points and yet still such isolation exists.


jim,
i missed you tonight love.  we would have had fun, i think- talking about the end of summer, getting excited for the vacation we had planned with the three kids next week, worrying about how they were all going to do in the car for a 12 hour road trip.  i would have probably been talking your ear off about how excited i was to show you hilton head and what new thing addy and lane and elly had done that day.  we would have talked about sending addy off to preschool in a couple weeks and how we couldn't believe that day had come already.  you might've convinced me to join you for a cigar instead of the couch since it was such a nice night and we would have relaxed together on our driveway.  you rubbing your temples, shaking the stress of your week off as you switched into family mode.  me being my usual annoying self full of energy and zeal!

i miss the simple things with you love, mostly just the sheer companionship of you.  i wish you were here babe.  i'm pretty sure you wouldn't even recognize me these days.  this girl that gives zero fucks and is doing it all on her own and definitely has shorter hair than you ever knew her with.  or maybe if you saw me today you would just grab me and hug me and say "i knew you could do it"

Comments

  1. Jim knows your strength. We all do. I am a strong vote for "I knew you could do it", then a proud of ya pat on the booty.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And to be honest I can picture how his face beams with pride for you. ❤️

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

treat it.

to everyone who has never been touched by suicide,

i get it.  i used to be like you too.  here are the most common views of suicide i either heard or personally held growing up:

that person is selfish
that person is crazy
that person is a coward
they wanted to die
they were depressed for a long time and finally went through with it
there are always warning signs, so people know it's coming
that it's preventable
THAT IT WOULDN'T AFFECT ME


there is this social stigma around depression, suicide, etc.  i can't tell you what it is like to not be able to talk openly about my husband's death.  to see people either openly or privately distance themselves from my pain, search for reasons that he did it beyond the fact that he was ill and we didn't catch it in time, connect dots that aren't connected.  all so they can convince themselves that they will never know the pain, and i honestly hope they don't- but it's possible they will.  i know people whose lives…

dreams.

to my love,

i hope you know how much i miss you.  the words, of course, fall short.  but there they are, just the same.  i.miss.you.  i told addy that you and elly can live in our hearts forever, but this of course is a lie.  death is permanent and there is no living to be done once the breathe leaves our bodies.  you are not living on in our hearts, minds, or souls.  there is no living to yet be done for you.  instead we are left with our memories which time will eventually dull.  numbing ourselves to the very sense of you.  it is that way for me with my mom, my memories of her are stunted and few and we had eight years together.

does it bother you to know the only real remembrance your children will have of you is seen through my eyes and my hearts?  the sharp reality of their dad is forever lost to them.

people are trying to instill hope in me in regards to my future.  i know they mean well but it is coming off condescending.  no one but my own being knows my pain.  i am not here…
Dear Cavs,

Our playoff season started the day my five week old daughter, Elly, passed away, twelve days later my husband also died suddenly.
Your road to the finals, so fraught with emotion was also the start of a very difficult, seemingly impossible journey for me.

I started watching at game five... when we were down 3-1, I thought for sure that we would lose that game- when we won, all of a sudden- I cared.  When so many lights had gone out for me there was all of a sudden very small glimmer of hope and dare I say satisfaction possibly ahead.

It would have seemed from the circumstances that I shouldn't care whether we won or lost, so many things in my life didn't hold their meaning anymore- but I did.  I couldn't help it.  The enthusiasm was infectious.  These games gave  me hope.

I watched as you won game five and game six and I'll never forget seeing Kyrie on the bench after six holding up his seven fingers.... Here we go.

I almost regretted getting invested as I …