Those that are left behind...
...we walk alone (actually, we are dragging our legs just trying to walk.) We are trying to make every minute count - wishing you could buy back minutes - dreading every single minute you cry or one of your children cry.
During the chaos of illness and the fear that this could be you - people are active and want to give all that they have and doing all that they can.
Then there's the inevitable death and you quickly walk alone. No more hustle and bustle, no more for lack of a better word, excitement any longer. Crying for 11 months I thought I was cried out. I thought I had grieved already. Shit, I didn't.
"Come on get out of your house. You NEED to get out." No, I need to be able to breathe again without feeling like it could be my last breath. But here's the dilemma. People don't come "here" any longer, I have to go there. Wherever there is it doesn't matter, it's not here, in my home. The home my husband died in less than three weeks ago.
I actually did go out for Superbowl - it was tolerable. Taking in all the people around me, all the couples, the miserable couples. Wishing I was still a "couple." Not a perfect couple but a couple - a family. So, why can't I, or better yet why WON'T I meet you somewhere? Because I don't want to. I don't want to go anywhere. Home is where it's comfortable, where I want to be. If you can't understand that, it's only because you couldn't possibly understand - not possible.
My husband was just killed by cancer. My kids daddy was just murdered by a gang of cells that he had no chance of overthrowing. Yeah, I wanna stay home OR maybe it's a lucky day and I can face the "outside".
The journey of the rest of our lives didn't start in February when my husband got sick - it started when he died the following January. Sure there were planned memories and many many meals with our friends. Old and new friends gathered around like a blanket. The feeling of love, overwhelming. Men brought to tears - women giving up time with their children. Amazing.
Now, after death the silence is deafening. Except from my beautiful mother and children. Sometimes we laugh together, sometimes we cry together, and sometimes we're just quiet together. Sitting and thinking about the man who made me check married on anything applied for. Sitting and thinking about how there won't be another - daddy daughter dance or father - son breakfast at the diner. Sitting and thinking about how giving up your own life to help your family is the only place you would be.
It comes down to me. Only I know how to get control of my car that is swaying back and forth driving along a mountain. Ah fuck, I don't know how to get control - but I am doing my best.
To those who wanna tell me I'm having a pitty party because my husband is dead - I'd rather it be called a brutal gathering. Unfortunately, I HAVE to stay at this gathering, when I'd rather be you and get the hell out of here. Who knows, I might do the same to my friend if I were in your shoes. I'd hope not, but I don't know cause I'm just me.