February 2, 2025
Dear David.
The heart can withstand a tremendous amount of breakage.
There was no way, in my anticipatory grief, to have ever prepared or comprehended how much I would miss you. I miss you more than I ever realized was possible and for reasons I didn’t know existed.
I am not very good at Wordle without you.
I no longer need a coffee pot
Everything is still colorless. Even when the sun shines. It is a gray day to me. I am a modern-day Eeyore. Anhedonia is just the new normal.
There is no one to say something smells good in the kitchen if I am cooking. You did this without fail. I could have been boiling a dirty sock and you would still say “that smells good” and would come over to stick your nose in the pot and usually steal a kiss with that smirk on your face.
I forget what my voice sounds like some days.
The cats miss couch time with you even though they know you are gone.
SL is really good at living in the moment. I am not.
I lose time during the day, and I don’t know what happens to it.
I have 3,002 things I need to tell you at any given moment of the day.
I still need your advice. Desperately.
I don’t like going places without you.
I am discovering what true bottomless pit of despair loneliness feels like. Daily.
Sometimes, I want to reach out to people that knew you (or even ones that didn’t) and say do you remember when he did this or that…but I don’t because it feels like I will seem pathetic.
I feel very pathetic and vulnerable writing these things knowing someone will eventually read them and possibly think “who cares. move on already. everyone loses someone.”
I don’t remember how to reset the internet even though you showed me hundreds of times. And what is the password for everything again? 🙂
Sorting through your things is hard because you are part of every square inch of this house.
You have a lot of cables and cords and chargers and I don’t know what they belong to.
I am not very good at therapy. In therapy, you are expected to find ways to move on. Process emotions that burn and memories that leave scars. Get out and do things you don’t want to do. Be vulnerable. I am not good at moving on or being vulnerable or talking when I don’t feel like talking. I just feel stuck like I should want to WANT to keep going but don’t? Still working on that one. Or not. I can’t decide.
All the songs and music belong to you now. Everything has a meaning or a memory. Good or bad.
I haven’t done anything with your social media accounts like we talked about because every day I go into your Facebook account and read your memories and every day I find something to smile about. Downloading the data doesn’t look the same.
I am not very good at reading for distraction.
I no longer have focus or a purpose. People can list things for me but those things don’t resonate. I know it is because I am not open to listening.
Numbness, aching, anger, despair, loneliness, denial, desperation, resentment, pining, sadness, anxiety, yearning, can all exist chaotically at the same time. Acceptance, though, is elusive.
The waves of grief that people talk about don’t just wash over me. Like the real ones in the ocean you would warn me about, they sometimes just knock me down, choke and drown me and don’t actually let me get back up to catch my breath before the next one is already on top of me.
You find things out after someone dies. Maybe things you want to know. Maybe things you don’t want to know.
The house makes different sounds without you here. Sounds I never paid attention to before.
I do battle seemingly to the death each day with the shoulda, woulda, coulda gang. They are ruthless and relentless and they wear me down. My hands over the ears “la la la la I can’t hear you” strategy is getting weaker by the day. Anti-anxiety meds have to be my champion during the days when the trial by combat is at its worst.
I don’t sleep the same way.
I am working on your circle a word book that you wanted to finish.
I don’t eat the same way. Food doesn’t taste the same.
The TV is hardly ever on anymore. No football whistles, or westerns, or James Bond chivalry, or Dan Patrick Show discussions. I did use my laptop this past week to catch up on a few of the shows we started. That was hard, but I started with the ones you could take or leave anyway. Or at least the ones you said you could take or leave but always got very interested in. Ones you would not admit to liking like Cobra Kai and the OBX and omg why did they end the season like that. Those damn scooby doo treasure hunting kids. I can’t think about finishing Yellowstone or any of the Taylor Sheridan stuff we were watching. Those have to wait for now.
93% of the groceries I bought were for you. The fridge and pantry is basically empty now.
I have been in our living room only a handful of times since you left. It is one of the emptiest places in the house.
I don’t know how to cook for one person.
There is no humor anymore. I no longer feel humorous and that scares me a lot.
I didn’t even know who was going to the Super Bowl until I Googled it. I would have already known that by now and who won what and when because you always sketched out the playoffs, divisions, and championship brackets for me, so I would understand.
I only cared about football because you did.
Silence is deafening and uncomfortable when I sit with it for long periods of time.
No one listens to me like you did. Or cares to. No one.
I am no one’s person. Anymore.
No one understands this particular situation. All loss is different. Everyone processes differently.
No one brings me flowers anymore. For no reason. You did this from the start.
Work isn’t what will help me focus.
King size beds are too vast with just one person and a cat.
After 30+ years, I feel like I lost many important roles but also my job, as you often put it, your caretaker, secretary, and personal assistant that kept you moving forward.
We should have taken that last trip out West like we planned. We should have put the chemo on hold for a couple of weeks and just gone. It didn’t matter anyway, but I also know you didn’t want to wait one moment if it could have been effective.
Some days I take a shower with the soaps you used because I need to smell you again. You always smelled nice. I can’t do it every day because I cry more tears than the shower has water.
I don’t know who to call to fix things around the house or what to ask for to be done or how to know if it is done right. .
Because I have not had the heart to disconnect it, your phone still gets spam calls and daily texts about the weather and which flags are flying at the beach because you were always interested in that, and we don’t remember seeing a green flag ever and that was odd to us because maybe they do not even own a green flag? I still keep checking.
I still text you especially at that certain time of day when one of us would see the time and send a text just to be the first one. I just don’t get a response. I guess it would be interesting if I did huh?
I still charge and update your laptop and iPad and watch. Funny how you were the one to remind me to do those things before.
Sometimes, I want to like one of my posts from one of your accounts just to see your name on there. But I don’t because it feels like it would be weird.
I didn’t feel like a weird person with you, but I feel weird again with just me now. I don’t belong anywhere anymore. A duck out of water.
Can I keep wearing your wedding ring? Is there a rule? Is that a weird thing to keep doing? I don’t really care, but I do think about it.
I don’t know how to keep going when I don’t want to do anything. People and writers of books say on my own time, but that isn’t reality, is it? People say this a lot to me “give yourself grace” I never really understood what exactly that meant. Now I know, and I can certainly do that, but in actuality, the world and people in everyday life really expect me to function as usual. It makes them uncomfortable otherwise and they start to avoid me. So, I don’t know how to do that when there are everyday life demands, and work, and bills, and death things that have to be taken care of, and unforeseen issues I don’t even know about yet. How long can I “give myself grace”?
XOXO-your eternal cynical pessimist-me
P.S. Both Punxsutawney Phil and General Beauregard Lee both saw their shadow this Groundhog Day morning and predict six more weeks of winter. It feels like perpetual winter for me anyway so it really doesn’t matter. Now is when you would say…enough…go sit in the sunshine and listen to the birds. 🙂 <3