FOR CHAD

You left me a year ago today. You left me and you were so sure you would never leave me. You were convinced and you convinced me. We both thought if anyone left, it would be me. We were wrong.

You left me a year ago today and it feels like yesterday. This pain in my chest comes from the little pieces of my heart moving around at every thought of you. Little pieces, all that's left after it shattered a year ago today.

You left me a year ago today and I remember screaming. I remember screaming and crying harder than I ever thought possible. I remember hurting so bad I did not think I could bear it. I remember getting in our bed and crying for you and I remember how wrong it felt to be lying there without you. It still feels wrong and I hate that bed now. I hate it because you're not there.

You left me a year ago today and I know that is not possible because I can still remember our last kiss, our last kiss that was six kisses, three kisses for I love you and how we looked at each other, smiled and kissed three more times. I remember our saying I love you and how you turned around to look at me before I drove away.

You left me a year ago today and I can see you sitting here next to me on the couch. I can see you watching me while I am messing around on this computer and when I look at you, you smile and say God, you're beautiful. I can see me smile back at you and shake my head because I am many things but I am only beautiful in your eyes.

You left me a year ago today and I still miss you holding my hand. I never thought much about hand holding before you, I could take it or leave it and really, it sometimes felt a bit awkward. But it felt right from the very first time with you. Holding my hand was the most natural thing in the world to you; you even did it in your sleep. My hands miss your hands.

You left me a year ago today and I remember the last time we made love and it breaks my heart remembering your "I love you". I never appreciated the difference between sex and making love before you. I knew there was a difference, theoretically. I just didn't believe in it until you showed me emotion trumps chemistry every time. (and now you've made me smile through my tears)

You left me a year ago and I remember our last phone call. I remember the love and I remember the guilt. It seems I can't have one without the other so I will carry them both.

You left me a year ago today and I remember everything. I was so scared I would forget and I haven't. I remember some things more often and some things more clearly but this I remember vividly: the entire last week before you left me. I remember everything about it, all the things I've already said and so much more. That week is frozen in my mind and maybe that is why it does not seem like it has been a year since you left me. Everyone has moved on, as people do. Not me. A year or a day, the pain is the same. I have learned to hide it better and that's okay. This pain is mine, this grief is mine.

You left me a year ago today and I went to visit you yesterday, in that godforsaken place your mother put you. I let myself get angry at you, for the first time. I said the things I've never said and you know what? They didn't help. The sadness and the pain far outweigh any anger. Also, I find it remarkably hard to fight with you when you can't fight back.

You left me a year ago today and I have some regrets that hurt because I can't do anything about them now. The biggest regret I have is not marrying you. I was stupid, silly and stubborn and I'm so sorry. You called me your wife anyway. You made me smile every time you did that. I'd like to think the wedding band I put on your finger, before they took you away from me forever, makes it right. I love you, husband.

You left me a year ago today and I'm supposed to go on without you. I have no idea how to do that. The past year is of no help, because I've only been pretending. I'm really, really tired of that. Sometimes, I think it would be easier to just move away. Go somewhere there are no physical memories of you and just start over with the only the ones in my heart and in my head. How did you manage to imprint yourself so completely in my life in such a short time?

You left me a year ago today and I am lost without you. You gave me such love, such beautiful, wonderful love, that the whole world feels empty without you. I am, at the same time, incredibly grateful for and absolutely devastated by that love.

You left me a year ago today and I miss you terribly.

You left me a year ago today.







Forever and always.

I love you.

Your wife

One Toe At A Time...

Soooo.

Here I am. This feels so strange, does not feel familiar or easy. And THAT is what feels strange, I think. I have been blogging (of sorts) for years, writing to (and for) myself for most of my life. It has always been easier for me to write it than say it; I'm more concise, more articulate.

And yet, here I am. I just don't seem to have the desire for it anymore. That is so very weird. So very different. Even in my darkest days, even in the depths of this stupid, ongoing depression, I always wanted to let it spill out here. All the rage, the grief, the blackest of moods, the happiest of times, the thoughts, the ponderings....they all made it on here. It's not like I don't have any of those any more; I do and I "write" them in my mind every night when I am trying to sleep and my brain just will not stop. I "write" them every day when my mind fills up with them, between times of forced verbal and physical interaction with other people.

But that's as far as it gets. I don't feel the need or the desire to get out of bed and blog and I don't feel the need or desire to come home from work and blog. I don't feel the need or desire to blog.

I still read other blogs. I read a lot of other blogs. Some of my old favorites and many new. I've been reading a bunch of decorating blogs because some day, I need to do something with my humble little abode and make it a home. And other blogs I stumble on some how and keep reading for some reason or another.

Do I miss blogging? Well, yes. I miss it in the same way I miss cleaning my house or taking regular showers (depression: it ain't pretty) or coloring the gray in my hair or wearing makeup (really. it's not pretty) or spending more time outside of my home than in it. I miss all of these things in a slightly disinterested, abstract way. I am trying to bring all those things back to "normal" - including blogging. I feel like I am going into a cycle where that may be possible. I hope so.

So, yeah. One toe at a time, this process. I don't want to let go of this blog and that's a good thing, I think. I want to clean my house on a regular schedule and that's a good thing. I want to take better care of myself and get out more and gather up those relationships I've let slide and that's a good thing.

Consider this a dip of the toe. Total immersion of the toe might take awhile, but I figure the foot will soon follow.

Or I'll lose the toe to frostbite. It could go either way, man.

TAP TAP TAP

wonder if this thing still works?

i don't know, it's awfully dusty in here.

i'm coming back.

it's time to get my house and my blog in order.

famous last words?

JOKERS TO THE LEFT OF ME, CLOWNS TO THE RIGHT

****okay, I wrote this around 5am when I couldn't sleep and all this came spewing out. I didn't post it then, just saved it. However, after reading it through tonight, I realize this really is how I feel so I decided to go ahead and post. All I can say is,, at least I "act" nicer in public.****

Hello, anyone out there? Ha, I just realized if I had typed "is there anybody out there?" I would have had two lines from two different song lyrics. Oh well, it was interesting to me.

So, yeah, I'm still here. Thanks for all of your messages and emails. I have not blogged in so long because I just haven't felt like it. The urge to write (type?) wasn't there and when it was I wanted to write about Chad and yet I don't always want to be writing about Chad and doing the whole "woe is me and I miss Chad so much, boo hoo hoo" bit. It gets old, I know. I live it, I know it, trust me.

Having said that, woe IS me, I do STILL miss Chad so much all the time I ache from it and I CONTINUE to do my fair share of boo hooing. So here it is, over 6 months later and nope, it's not any easier. I find it hard to comprehend how time continues without him. This is not helped by the insurance company insistence on fucking me at every turn by refusing to cover the anti-depressants my doctor prescribed. Any of them. They did, however, have helpful suggestions on the ones they would like me to try. Apparently, without me realizing it, they have actually met me, listened to me and feel completely comfortable with diagnosing and prescribing medicines for me. Perhaps this is possible; as spawns of Satan, they may have some special power that enables them to do this. I grew weary of that fight and now just take a twice daily dose of fuckitall. Seems to work about the same.

My health is horrible. From stroke eminent blood pressure (despite four, FOUR! medications) to teeth problems to skin issues to sleep disturbance (cause I can't) to intensified pains and aches to...well, you get the picture. Yes, I do hear that tiny violin playing and thank you, I believe I will have some cheese with my whine.

I find myself becoming increasingly more irritable. You know, the I want to really slap the shit out of people irritable. With that in mind, I'd like to give a shout out to the following:
*to the woman SITTING in the aisle at Wal-mart: really???
*to the parent in front of me at the store: you are an idiot. you are trying to REASON with a 3, 4, 5 year old CHILD. you seem to take their increased shrieking and howling as affirmation they understand you. you are wrong. i want to run over your head with your own grocery cart and give your kid the spanking he/she deserves. yes, a spanking. this kid is beyond the point of negotiating and is ready to learn about consequences.
*to the sullen bank teller: maybe there's a reason why you give me such attitude. i don't know nor do i care. whatever shit story of life you've got brewing, i'm pretty sure i can top it. please increase your speed from sloth to turtle.
*to myself: why are you watching shows like "i'm a celebrity, get me out of here!"? these people are not celebrities, they are train wrecks of humanity. turn the tv off and walk away. now.
*to my next door neighbor's mom: i can not believe you continued to put poisonous insecticide on your daughter's plants after i told you my dog has to walk right by there. the outlook is not good for the plants.

So, that's what's going on here. I keep on keeping on. I've been spending more time on Facebook because I find it easier to write a one line status "report" than a blog post. (Also, it's easier to pretend on there.) I still read my regular blogs (but rarely comment, sorry). I am toying with the idea of starting a new blog, where I review books I've read - just for me, not for pay although that would be cool.

I expect I'll get around to posting more sometime. Perhaps when I'm less irritable, hmm?

CONNECT THE DOTS

I have an old friend, Glinda.

I met Glinda when she was the girlfriend of one of my brothers and he brought her home to meet us. Although both he and Glinda lived in the south at that time, it turned out Glinda was born and raised in this general area. Connect One.

We got along well during that visit, Glinda and I, so when several months later I moved south (the beginning of the period I refer to AS THE TIME I RESIDED IN ANOTHER STATE), Glinda and I became roommates.

During our time as roommates, we learned that her stepfather had lived one street over from me while I was growing up. Connect Two. I knew both of his sons well and in fact, his youngest son could conceivably be called my first "boyfriend" as we liked to sneak off on our bikes to the dam and practice kissing. Connect Three.

I also learned her stepbrother from her father's remarriage was a good friend of mine from school. Connect Four. And his brother had married the sister of my best friend from childhood. Connect Five.

She had an aunt who lived behind the house we moved to when I was fourteen. Connect Six. The aunt's daughter, Glinda's cousin, came to visit us and I discovered through a conversation with her, I knew her uncle Roy - although I knew him as "Moose". Moose's house is where I ended up, drunk and puking, after leaving my high school graduation party. Connect Seven.

I found out her dad was from an area of Kentucky where one of my (many) aunts & uncles lived and one cousin still resides there.
Connect Eight.

Glinda and I parted ways as roommates but continued our friendship until I left the south and returned here to hell - err, Ohio.

I got in touch with her a few years later when her young and only son was killed in a car wreck caused by a drunk teenager. I'm sorry to say we lost touch again after that although I thought of her often. Many times I tried to locate her via the internet with no luck.

Fast forward twelve years to last week. I had been thinking about Glinda a lot. Seriously, A LOT. I tried the internet again and again, no success. Since I couldn't find anything on her, I began looking under her husband's name and finally found something on them.

It was her husband's obitiuary. He died last October 4th. My heart broke for her.

I managed through the information in the obitiuary to locate one of her nephews on Facebook (they don't call me Nancy Drew for nothing) and sent him a message asking for help getting in touch with Glinda. He very promptly replied with the information.

We spent over 4 hours on the phone Saturday night, Glinda and I.
Glinda had looked for me on the internet and had actually called me in early November on my home phone. Connect Nine. Unfortunately, my phone was answered by Chad, who pretended to not hear her and then, when she persisted, hung up on her. I had instructed him in this behavior since I don't use my home phone and let's just say, I figure anyone calling that number for me is probably no one I want to talk to. He may have carried it a little too far, in hindsight.

It was wonderful to talk with her again. Since she had recently and suddenly lost her husband of many years (her soulmate) and I had recently and suddenly lost Chad (my soulmate), Connect Ten, we were able to talk with each other about things NO ONE else can relate to. It helped us both, in ways you can't imagine.

I also found out the home I recently purchased is one cul de sac away from the home she lived in with her father many years ago after her parents divorce. Connect Eleven.

She and her husband, after their son's death, became foster parents to 119 children. How awesome is that?? They also adopted four of those children, two of which live still live at home. How wonderful is that? And just so Glinda; she was born to be a mom.

When Glinda asked what I did for a living and I explained I work as job coach for people with mental retardation/developmental disabilities (MR/DD); she told me that many of her foster children were special needs kids, including some of her adopted children. Connect Twelve.

While we were talking about how strong the feelings were for me to find her last week, she told me it had been a really bad week for her - paying off her husband's funeral, ordering the headstone, taking care of financial things she had been putting off. We both think this is why I felt the need to find her. Connect Thirteen.

It was good, good, good to talk with her again. We both laughed more than either had in months (since the death of her husband for her and the death of Chad for me). I really feel we will keep in touch this time, through phone calls, emails and such. In fact, I am hoping to visit her soon, since she now lives about 3 hours away....in Kentucky. Connect Fourteen.

Six degrees has nothing on us - take that, Kevin Bacon!

**sometimes, we forget. what a small world it really is and how interwined our lives are with so many others. i think it's wonderful, really. i'd love to hear other stories of connections like this - if you have one, share!***