No Picture Book - This is a Novel

I spend a lot, and I mean a lot of time trying to find a picture that conveys what I am writing.  It’s as if what I’m writing is not clear enough, there needs to be an accompanying photo with it.  A picture book for grown-ups.  

As usual I searched for a picture that would encompass the feelings I have today.  Solemn, sad, frustrated, disappointed, mad, disappointed (I said that twice), lonely.  There’s more to the list, but it’s dumb to write all the words that describe grieving.  

The “stages” of grief having been defined in 1,000,000,000 books does not apply to me, but rather to everyone else going through this process.  I am special and above such nonsense.  

When my husband died in January of this year, (yes still in this same YEAR), I was sad for a while.  Then, as I usually do, I snapped out of it.  I was intently focused on giving myself and my children a better life.   From March forward my life was dedicated to moving out of the grey and into the sunshine.  Out from the old and into the new.  Away from the disappointment and sadness and into the hope and joy.  Hello, Crock of Shit it’s nice to meet you, my name is Naive.

Sunny Palm Beach, FL brings 80 degree weather in November as opposed to the 40 degrees we came from.  Oddly enough even the sun can’t break through the grey in my home.   I would trade (not happily) 100000000 days of grey to have the father of my children back.  There will never ever be another father of my children to talk to, no matter what the weather.

How ridiculous of me to think that a weather change would change our broken hearts.  

I’ve talked many times about the imperfect relationship my husband and I had.   The betrayal I feel to him that I might have been relieved that I would be able to start my life over again.  What an idiotic thought that was and still is.   Starting a life over again only applies to those who believe in reincarnation and then at best you’ll probalby come back as a bird or a tree or something crazy like that.  This life I have just continues.  Continues regardless of what my zip-code... who my friends/enemies are... how those I trusted betrayed...or how I was the betrayer.  It all just goes forward whether you want it to or not.

No amount of crying or wishing can help me get back to the place where my husband isn’t dead, and I can say, “I am so sorry for making the last 3 months of your life shitty.”  I am so very sorry that I let my own ego interfere with allowing you the peace you needed before you took your last breath.  I can’t and won’t let myself be forgiven for being so evil!  It is just pure evil to deny a person the opportunity to breathe deeply and peacefully as they watch themselves deteriorate into the baby they once were.  

I was “the” caregiver to my husband.  I lifted him into the bathtub only to realize I was too weak to pull him out.  (With all the strength we both could muster, we did drag my naked and vulnerable husband out of the bathtub.)   One of the days I realized, holy shit, this ain’t no joke!!!  We are fucked in this battle against cancer AND we are going to lose.

Hoisting him above the hospital bed we had moved into our home so he could mingle with our friends.  Me, lying on the floor, pushing and pulling with both my arms and legs, just to then be able to lower him into the wheelchair that awaited him.  He was grateful.  Never failed to thank me.  I was pissed because I had to do EVERYTHING and ALL he had to do was die.

There was a day that using the bathroom wasn’t an option.  That was the day he realized that it was almost his time.  That is the day when I realized I couldn’t care for him forever.  It wasn’t that I minded doing all these duties - it was that the longer it went on the less “thank you’s” I was receiving.  How in the hell could I stand on ceremony waiting for a thank you from a man whose dignity was slipping away hour by hour.  Why wasn’t I grateful that he trusted me enough to allow me to take care of him?

I’m sitting at a car wash waiting for the car my husband told me to buy right before he died.  “Trade in the Lexus and the Dodge for the Honda Odyssey.  I don’t want to have to worry that you won’t have a safe car.”  He died January 21, 2012, I bought this car on January 27, 2012.

A “psychic” came to me recently and said, “Did someone close to you die recently.”  “Yes”, I answered.  “Well, I see him in your car.  Do you feel him in your car?”  Looking for the cameras thinking I was on a psychic medium show, I fixed my hair, and said, “His favorite country songs are on the radio ALL OF THE TIME!”

Perhaps I feel like I owe it to him to listen to the most awful music in the world in the car that he wanted me to have.  I was a radio DJ once, perhaps it’s my destiny to be a DJ on a country western radio station.   I an announce the music, even if I don’t like it.

Good morning folks, it’s AlyceIsCurious and next up is one of my husband’s favorite songs about gun shootin’, brawlin’ girl kissin’, and heart breakin’ and it amazingly enough sounds like every other C&W song you’ve ever heard.

Respectfully,

AIC