Thursday, August 26, 2010

Fifteen Days

It has been fifteen days now.

I am coping. Minute by minute, day by day. I had no idea that death could be so hard. So lonely, so empty and so complicated. 

Just when I think I am cried out, I cry. 
Just when I think I will drop, I move.
I go through the motions. 
I miss him so. 

It has been two weeks. I know, I know, a drop in the bucket. 

I am muddling through all the complications of death. 
TBHITW did it all. He handled all the finances, the business, the complicated stuff of daily life... taking out the garbage, oil changes, paying bills. We always said that if he "made the living, I would make it worth living"... 

I got lazy in the last two years since I left the "corporate world"... now I am trying to pick up all the pieces. His business, my business, the house, kids... dog... ugg. On top of that I would just like to lay around in his robe with his picture and a glass of wine. I'm trying my best. That has to do for now. I get up, get dressed, and go through the motions of life. I walk the dog. I watch the clock until it is a respectable time to go to bed. Then I get up and do it all again the next day. I feel like a puppet on a string. Or a fragile glass. Any one twitch or bump and I will shatter and break. 

Everyone says it will get better with time. Really? I want to shout at them REALLY???? How??? Is he going to walk through that door? Is he going to hold me in his arms? Is he going to kiss me one more time and tell me I'm beautiful?? Well, if not, then how is it going to get better?

But I don't shout at anyone. I just nod my head and say thank you and agree with them. 

And while I am screaming inside I am getting two kidadults ready for college and one 16 year old ready for his junior year in high school. And I'm doing the laundry and running the vacuum. And all the while I'm thinking... how can this be?

He came and kissed me the other day. I was napping. I always read or napped (okay, okay, napped) between 3 & 4pm on the weekend (okay, okay, during the week too)... he would be up in his office and would ask me what time I would like to wake up if I happened to fall asleep (while reading). I would say, "oh, four o'clock. I was in that half way zone of awake and asleep and I felt someone sit down and gently kiss me. It was so nice, so gentle.. I opened my eyes and it was four o'clock. 

That is what keeps me going. 


  1. Good morning, I don't think anyone means you will ever get over the loss. Why should you? He was too important in your life. I do believe he would want the pain to lessen and for you to find joy again in something or someone. One day at a time is all we can do but like I've said before, keep opening up and I think it will help.
    We will always be here.

  2. There is no timeline for grief.

    We just lost a man I've known since I was two. I grew up with his son. He and his wife were the closest to a second set of parents that I had. That alone has been devastating. I can't imagine how much more so it is for his wife, or for you in your circumstances.

    Take the time you need.

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  4. Oh! Oh! He came! He came to you! Oh sweetie. Hang onto that. Touch your cheek when you need to remember it.

    The fragileness? The shatteredness? The tenacity of that feeling over time is wicked. Just keep going and doing, my friend. But don't forget to take the day to sit in his robe with his picture. You need to do that to. I can't promise it will get better. No one can. I didn't believe anyone when they said that to me either. You'll find your way. That's all I know. Is that you will find a new path. Not the one you chose, but the one you have to be on in order to survive.

  5. That's so sweet that he came to kiss you. ((Hugs))

  6. I've been following your posts and my heart goes out to you. Know that he is with you and the bond is stronger than ever. I remember feeling like a robot after I lost my son and it was good to have things to do, to keep putting one foot in front of the other. But take time to curl up with his picture too. Love to you.

  7. He came and woke you..he is there watching over you..helping you..those little things in life you do..going thru the motions are helping you get thru the day...when I say it will get better in time..I just remember that the missing remained the same, but the hollow empty
    hard to breathe feeling started to subside..once I came to terms in my mind my new life without him there..I send love your way.Marlene

  8. That gave me the chills! He woke you up... :-)

    The little movie is on its way. On, On!

  9. I love that he came to you. True love knows no bounds...

  10. No one can predict how long the grief will be the huge hole in your life. And it is possible that for the rest of your life you will catch glimpses of some time with him and it will surprise you how deeply you still feel the loss. You sound like a practical woman but you have a right to acknowledge your feelings. However that works for you. I could add to this comment and bring in the story of my daughter's husband losing his battle with cancer, but that won't help you either. So in respect to you and your immediate feelings, I can only tell you that lots of people do care.

  11. You are so right, there is no timeline for grief, no amount that needs to pass before it "gets better" Just keep hanging on, and know we all are there for you.

  12. Just read your story and I'm thinking of you and your family. My heart truly goes out to you. Thank for you for sharing.

  13. I am so happy that you feel his presence.

  14. It makes me happy that you still feel him, that he is still taking care of you.

  15. When my favorite aunt passed away, I was devastated. She always made me feel like I was the most spectacular person on the planet. Every single year on my birthday she would be the first one to wish me a happy birthday, even before my mother. If she was not around, she would call as the sun was coming up.

    The night before my birthday (the first birthday after she passed), I sat and cried knowing that she would not be calling. Right before I woke up on my birthday, I dreamt that I walked into the kitchen and she was standing there waiting to wish me a happy birthday. She also made me a pot of coffee and I thanked her, but told her that she makes her coffee too weak for my taste. She pointed at the coffee and I could see that she had brewed it strong and to my taste. It was amazing that she found a way to still make me feel so special.

  16. I am so sorry for your loss. I adore my husband, too, and I can't imagine life without him. My heart goes out to you.

    (catching up at Unknown Mami's place and read her post)

  17. It took me three months before I could even begin to believe that my soul mate and best friend was gone from this earth. We only had ten years together, but they were the best years of my life. He was my rock and no words could describe how lost I was without him. You are in my thoughts and prayers, each day. Love, Marguerite

  18. Eloquent words that brought tears to my eyes.

    I picture someone reading this who is also suffering a recent loss, but who isn't as good at putting their grief into words. I think it must be of great comfort and support to them to read what you write.

    Keep writing -- for yourself and for all of us who may need your words now or in the future.

    May you feel God holding you close in His loving arms during this hard, hard time.


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