Three days and counting. We move this Friday to Ohio. I have today, tomorrow and kind of sorta Thursday (that's when I pick up the truck) to finish packing. A 4 bedroom house with basement that we've lived in for 10 years. I've not even touched my bedroom or the downstairs area. The closer I get to Thursday, the crazier I will be. The packing will get more and more insane and, in the end, it will all be in bags, unmarked, thrown all willy nilly in the back of the moving truck.
What the fuck am I doing is my motto lately!! : )
During the day, the daylight, I'm good. I'm strong, I feel good and confident. Once it gets close to the late afternoon, early evening and then night time, I'm plagued with doubt. What the fuck am I doing?? Is this crazy?? Am I crazy? What it is about the dark hours that brings uncertainty? Is it because, you literally can't see what's around you at night? Even though it's the same thing as it is during the daylight...if you can't see it, is it really there? Is something ELSE there? It's exhausting because you're on a see saw....up during the day, down on the ground at night. I like being up. Get some more people on the other end and LIFT ME UP!! Is that a metaphor that I need to let God handle this? I'm hanging off a cliff, to a rope that I've got a really good grip of. But I'm getting tired and I know I can't hang on forever. Do I depend only on me to climb up? Because I know I eventually can. I'll have a lot of mental breakdowns before then...a lot of anguish and heartache and pain and hurt. But I'm a physical entity that I can see, feel, hear and touch. God...is God. I believe in him, I know he exists, he has touched my life and shown me the way before. Why can't I let go of that rope? I know he'll catch me. Won't he? Or will he let me fall because that's what I need to do? I DON'T LIKE UNANSWERED QUESTIONS! I have too many of them with Chuck's death.
And how do you let it go? How do you give it to God? When I do will I instantly stop worrying and hurting? Of course not.
Faith. It all comes down to faith. And I believe Hope...and Courage and Love. They're capitalized because they're important. They're the subject of this rambling post. Even though it's got a different title, Faith, Hope, Courage and Love is what it's all about.
I have to have Faith in God...and myself to live this life. I have to have faith that God will show me the way. Whether it's down first, then back up. God will show me the way.
I have to have Hope that what I'm doing is right. That I will have the strength to continue facing forward, that I will get a job when we get up to Ohio, that my boys will be ok, that the truck will keep working, that the nights won't bring such uncertainty, but rather rest.
I have to have Courage to keep packing up this house...not all willy nilly, but neatly and methodically...until it's 2pm on Thursday, and I've said "What the fuck am I doing??", then it's garbage bags galore. I have to have the Courage to lock the door to this house and get in that truck and drive 518 miles north to a new life with my boys and our dogs and 26' of stuff.
And I have to have Love. I love my children. I love my dogs. I love my sisters. I love my friends and family. I love Chuck. I will always love Chuck. I love him enough to let him go. He will live in our hearts forever and I know that I will see him again, happy, pain-free and, hopefully, waiting for me with open arms and a big sloppy kiss. And he'll say "what the fuck did you do?"
3 days and counting.....
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
What Am I Gonna Do Now???!!!
Well gosh.....it's been a while....a long while....years long. Where to begin??
Life got busy and crazy and the usual....the blog (if you could call it that) wasn't full time; life kept getting in the way, as it always does.
My husband died April 14, 2017 unexpectedly. Wow....that's the first time I've put a date to it...in writing. I never thought I'd see those words, from me, now. In 50 years maybe, but not now. My husband died. The bad thing...or horrible thing....is there ever the word "good" in front of "thing" when death is involved? Maybe if the person was suffering or ill for a long time. But he wasn't. We weren't good....we were unhappy and I was thinking of leaving. That's what kills me. I should have tried harder, I should have put more of an effort; I should have talked to him more. But I didn't. Instead, I internalized everything but my displeasure with him.
He sent me a text message shortly before he died. I was out of state, with my friend and her daughters, having a good time; having fun; bitching about how miserable I was with him. His text said "Remember, I always loved you". I texted back "are you going somewhere?". I should have called him then and there, but he, in the past, had always been so dramatic. Making me feel guilty. But this time, he did it. What did he do? I want to think he was being dramatic and just passed away, but my fear and anguish and inner turmoil and regret is that he took one too many pain pills....intentionally. The coroner didn't do an autopsy. Part of me is grateful, the other part wishes they would have so at least I'd know. There was no letter....that I've found...as of yet. Part of me also hopes I will....at least I'll have answers. Did I drive him to this? Did I push him over the edge?
Of course, all my issues with him disappeared the second I heard the words "I'm sorry, he's gone" from the Doctor. Only my love for him was there.
Flashback, April 14, 2017....a couple of hours after the text message was received my son called me. Me and my friend and her daughters were in the car driving. We were going to some places in Columbus Ohio area. My son was obviously upset...he'd come home and found Chuck unresponsive in the bed. He called 911....he told me he didn't think he was breathing. I tried calling my Dad who lived about 2 miles away but couldn't reach him. I called my sister and told her and she and her husband went to get my kids. I called Chuck's ex-wife Doris so she could call her boys (Chuck's boys). I called the hospital, but he wasn't there yet. I called again and got through to the ER doctor and I remember this so clearly, yet in a haze...we had gotten back to my friend's daughters house. I was walking from the car to the front porch and was on her front porch and the doctor said "we tried everything we could.....I'm sorry....we couldn't revive him". My heart and world stopped. I remember crying out....like in pain or agony. "No!!!". I bent over, sobbing. Chuck couldn't be dead. He was so fucking stubborn!! He'd been through 17+ surgeries!! He was too hard headed to die. Too much a part of our lives, my life, my soul, my heart to not be here anymore. He promised he would always love me and always be there....that he'd never leave. He was a rock, a boulder, Mt. Everest when it came to his love for those in his life. It hurts my heart and soul knowing that those of us he loved have lost that.
And to be gone, in the blink of an eye, with no final touch or words or knowledge. No chance to say goodbye, to ask for forgiveness, to feel his hug, his voice; to look in to his beautiful eyes and see and feel his love. I know trillions have felt this pain as well, but it feels so individual and personal and unique; it's hard to imagine anyone else knows what I'm feeling. The complete and utter loss.
And here I am, withdrawing from my family, from my boys. Looking inward...all I see and feel is my pain, my loss. I literally have blinders on. I don't (can't?) see what's around me. I know I need to. This has caused irreparable damage to my relationship with my sisters. My dad was ill and died one month later (on my son's birthday) and I wasn't there for him. I didn't call when I promised to...go see him, nothing. Because all I could see was inside me. I literally feel like my back is to the entire world and all I can see is inside myself. I know there are others around me, asking me to see them, begging me to, but they're muffled.
I don't know what to hold on to....I mean I do...I need to hold on to God. But I don't. I want to and I know that it's all up to me to do. But I feel like I'm living in a bubble and my children and family are outside of it. The bubble is insulated, so I don't feel much of anything. I can see (what I choose to see) and if outside the bubble gets too hard (like dealing with reality, day to day stuff), I just rush back in to my bubble. I know it's wrong and I need to pop the bubble and get rid of it, but THINKING that I wanted to leave him and KNOWING that he's gone forever and ever and I.....what? I didn't do the leaving? I didn't try? The normal regrets one has when someone they love dies or is it more? Is it that I really wasn't ready to leave, just unhappy? I want an answer because the wondering is killing me.
Speaking of killing me, being here, in this house, this town, this state kills me. EVERYTHING reminds me of him, the turn in to the neighborhood, our friends, the exits on the highway, the local grocery store, our bedroom, our bed.....it's ALL HIM. It's too much. So, I'm uprooting my children from the only life they've known...my oldest has 2 years left of high school, my youngest is just starting and I'm moving to Ohio. I used to live there years ago with my ex-husband. My oldest son was born there. My best friend in all the world will soon be back there. Her daughters and their families currently live there. But Chuck was NEVER THERE. He never stepped foot in Ohio so there are no memories of him there. I found a house and went up to register my kids in school and bring a few things to the house before the move and in an empty house, on an inflatable mattress, I had the best sleep I've had in months. No memories. Not that I want to eradicate them, but they hurt right now. I want to heal without the constant reminder and presence of him. Because it seems I was madly in love with him still. While I may have eventually left....I'll never know....I do know that he was and is the love of my life. He taught me so much about myself and relationships. Not always in a good way, but, unfortunately, due to his death, I recognize how desperately important it is to TALK.
So I'm packing up my house...10 years of living and memories and STUFF needs to fit in a 26' Uhaul truck, What doesn't fit...or what hurts too much....stays here. I'm facing forward...fighting the urge and instinct to turn around.....but for now, right now, today, I'm facing forward. It's raining and ugly, but I see the sun poking through.
Life got busy and crazy and the usual....the blog (if you could call it that) wasn't full time; life kept getting in the way, as it always does.
My husband died April 14, 2017 unexpectedly. Wow....that's the first time I've put a date to it...in writing. I never thought I'd see those words, from me, now. In 50 years maybe, but not now. My husband died. The bad thing...or horrible thing....is there ever the word "good" in front of "thing" when death is involved? Maybe if the person was suffering or ill for a long time. But he wasn't. We weren't good....we were unhappy and I was thinking of leaving. That's what kills me. I should have tried harder, I should have put more of an effort; I should have talked to him more. But I didn't. Instead, I internalized everything but my displeasure with him.
He sent me a text message shortly before he died. I was out of state, with my friend and her daughters, having a good time; having fun; bitching about how miserable I was with him. His text said "Remember, I always loved you". I texted back "are you going somewhere?". I should have called him then and there, but he, in the past, had always been so dramatic. Making me feel guilty. But this time, he did it. What did he do? I want to think he was being dramatic and just passed away, but my fear and anguish and inner turmoil and regret is that he took one too many pain pills....intentionally. The coroner didn't do an autopsy. Part of me is grateful, the other part wishes they would have so at least I'd know. There was no letter....that I've found...as of yet. Part of me also hopes I will....at least I'll have answers. Did I drive him to this? Did I push him over the edge?
Of course, all my issues with him disappeared the second I heard the words "I'm sorry, he's gone" from the Doctor. Only my love for him was there.
Flashback, April 14, 2017....a couple of hours after the text message was received my son called me. Me and my friend and her daughters were in the car driving. We were going to some places in Columbus Ohio area. My son was obviously upset...he'd come home and found Chuck unresponsive in the bed. He called 911....he told me he didn't think he was breathing. I tried calling my Dad who lived about 2 miles away but couldn't reach him. I called my sister and told her and she and her husband went to get my kids. I called Chuck's ex-wife Doris so she could call her boys (Chuck's boys). I called the hospital, but he wasn't there yet. I called again and got through to the ER doctor and I remember this so clearly, yet in a haze...we had gotten back to my friend's daughters house. I was walking from the car to the front porch and was on her front porch and the doctor said "we tried everything we could.....I'm sorry....we couldn't revive him". My heart and world stopped. I remember crying out....like in pain or agony. "No!!!". I bent over, sobbing. Chuck couldn't be dead. He was so fucking stubborn!! He'd been through 17+ surgeries!! He was too hard headed to die. Too much a part of our lives, my life, my soul, my heart to not be here anymore. He promised he would always love me and always be there....that he'd never leave. He was a rock, a boulder, Mt. Everest when it came to his love for those in his life. It hurts my heart and soul knowing that those of us he loved have lost that.
And to be gone, in the blink of an eye, with no final touch or words or knowledge. No chance to say goodbye, to ask for forgiveness, to feel his hug, his voice; to look in to his beautiful eyes and see and feel his love. I know trillions have felt this pain as well, but it feels so individual and personal and unique; it's hard to imagine anyone else knows what I'm feeling. The complete and utter loss.
And here I am, withdrawing from my family, from my boys. Looking inward...all I see and feel is my pain, my loss. I literally have blinders on. I don't (can't?) see what's around me. I know I need to. This has caused irreparable damage to my relationship with my sisters. My dad was ill and died one month later (on my son's birthday) and I wasn't there for him. I didn't call when I promised to...go see him, nothing. Because all I could see was inside me. I literally feel like my back is to the entire world and all I can see is inside myself. I know there are others around me, asking me to see them, begging me to, but they're muffled.
I don't know what to hold on to....I mean I do...I need to hold on to God. But I don't. I want to and I know that it's all up to me to do. But I feel like I'm living in a bubble and my children and family are outside of it. The bubble is insulated, so I don't feel much of anything. I can see (what I choose to see) and if outside the bubble gets too hard (like dealing with reality, day to day stuff), I just rush back in to my bubble. I know it's wrong and I need to pop the bubble and get rid of it, but THINKING that I wanted to leave him and KNOWING that he's gone forever and ever and I.....what? I didn't do the leaving? I didn't try? The normal regrets one has when someone they love dies or is it more? Is it that I really wasn't ready to leave, just unhappy? I want an answer because the wondering is killing me.
Speaking of killing me, being here, in this house, this town, this state kills me. EVERYTHING reminds me of him, the turn in to the neighborhood, our friends, the exits on the highway, the local grocery store, our bedroom, our bed.....it's ALL HIM. It's too much. So, I'm uprooting my children from the only life they've known...my oldest has 2 years left of high school, my youngest is just starting and I'm moving to Ohio. I used to live there years ago with my ex-husband. My oldest son was born there. My best friend in all the world will soon be back there. Her daughters and their families currently live there. But Chuck was NEVER THERE. He never stepped foot in Ohio so there are no memories of him there. I found a house and went up to register my kids in school and bring a few things to the house before the move and in an empty house, on an inflatable mattress, I had the best sleep I've had in months. No memories. Not that I want to eradicate them, but they hurt right now. I want to heal without the constant reminder and presence of him. Because it seems I was madly in love with him still. While I may have eventually left....I'll never know....I do know that he was and is the love of my life. He taught me so much about myself and relationships. Not always in a good way, but, unfortunately, due to his death, I recognize how desperately important it is to TALK.
So I'm packing up my house...10 years of living and memories and STUFF needs to fit in a 26' Uhaul truck, What doesn't fit...or what hurts too much....stays here. I'm facing forward...fighting the urge and instinct to turn around.....but for now, right now, today, I'm facing forward. It's raining and ugly, but I see the sun poking through.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)