Dark Days
What can I say that I haven't said already? I miss him. It's not fair. It sucks. It gets less actively awful, but not really any better. I miss him, and I miss the life we were supposed to have together. I'm tired of being alone in the universe. I'm tired of having to find reasons NOT to wallow in despair.I miss you, babe. I hope you know that. I hope you know that whatever else I someday find, it will never, ever, take your place--or fill the part of me that was completed by you. In so many ways, you were the part of me I liked best. I miss the laughter, and the hopes, and the memories we didn't get to make. I miss celebrating our daughter with you, and laughing at the same exact thing you find funny. I want to tell you about the funny line I just read on Salon about Jack Black, and hear you say, "He rocks. So HARD," and laugh, not because it's funny, but because the joke is ours and we are together to share it. I want you to see your daughter dance in her first (and probably not last) "Nutcracker." And to pick out a Christmas tree together, and laugh bitterly about how your nutty family has canceled Thanksgiving again, and not really mind because the three of us are all the family we really need.
I may not hurt as badly, but I miss you not one iota less than I did 729 days ago. I still feel bereft, blunted, and impaired.
Now I am going home to get powerfully drunk and maybe watch the documentary about the Dixie Chicks before I humiliate myself by crying on campus...AGAIN. I keep thinking I will just quit this stupid blog, since I never have anything new to say, or the energy to find new ways to say it.
Labels: widowhood
posted by Unknown @ 2:06 PM
6 Comments:
Just delurking to say that I quite like reading your blog if you're happy to keep writing it.
I am sorry.
I find the same thing in my grief, however different it's nature is from yours.
I am sorry. It sucks.
Powerfully drunk sounds about right.
If you quit, I will miss you.
Wish I could get powerfully drunk with you. I feel like I miss John more with the passing of time, not less.
Bereft, blunted, and impaired. Yup. Check, check, and check. Incomplete, check on that too.
Let's plan that "camping" trip.
(o)
(o)
Babe knows all this. He is yelling at you to suck it up.
On my notepad for heir and son:
"When I am dead, cry for me a little. Think of me, but not too much. It is not good for you to dwell too long. Think of me now and again as I was in life, at some moment which is pleasant to recall, but not for long. Leave me in peace as I leave you, too: In peace."
afriend
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