So it finally happened…. I finally got a comment of, “I’m so envious that you have a whole quiet house all to yourself all the time.”
Not the words to say to a widow. Not the words to say to a widow who was unsuccessful in having a child with the love of her life after over two years of trying every single month.
I would give anything to be sharing this house with the love of my life still and to have the chance to have our own children making a ruckus throughout the entire thing.
We had the plans, the dreams, the names, the house, the ….everything… We had one another.
Decided to move a couple things to their proper (new) locations tonight… One was a big stack of love cards from me to Mark. I couldn’t resist looking at some (okay, a lot)…
“I don’t know what I would ever do without you and I never want to find out!”
“I am so excited that I get to love you and hold you for the rest of my life”
“Cannot imagine a day without you by my side and I don’t want to!”
So many of our jokes, our nicknames, and so so so so so so SO much love.
I love him just as much today as I did in each one of those cards, as each day we knew one another, as the day I married him, and every single day between.
Despite sitting here widowed and living it each and every day, I still cannot imagine a day without Mark in my life, and I still don’t want to.
How so very much I miss him and wish he were still here by my side.
Love you forever and always, lover. Majorly. Mykylyhycwy
As I sit on the main floor waiting for an afterhours service call, I can hear the water dripping (pouring) into the rubbermaid tub I’ve set out to catch the leak in the basement.
“Follow the copper line to where it meets a water pipe, there should be a shut off valve” ….oh god… there isn’t one. I was about to shout out, “I’m a widow! I don’t know what I’m doing!!” when I realized this isn’t going to help the situation. …and why don’t I know these things anyway? Why weren’t we – as people bound to live in houses, apartments, etc. – pushed to learn about electronics and plumbing and furnaces?! Why aren’t there little tags on everything to indicate what they do? Why weren’t these issues caught when I had the company in for servicing at the start of winter?
I so badly want to hold onto our home, the place where we’ve built so many memories. Instances like this make me doubt myself; is it realistic to think I can handle a whole house myself? I’m not ready to sort through Mark’s belongings and pack it all up. As painful as it is some days and as ridiculous as it may sound, I want to be surrounded by his ‘things’. It shows me that besides in my memories, he existed, he lived, he was here.
Service call complete, water not pouring anymore, and another booking for Monday to actually fix the issue.
“Are you around on Monday for us to come fix it?” …as the sole owner and occupant, I guess I’ll have to be!
I speak to you every single day, at home, at work, everywhere. I miss your voice. I miss you so badly.
You’re everywhere and nowhere. After 265 days, I still don’t know how to do this.
Today I bought a picture for the spare bedroom. Besides it feeling very wrong that I was doing this alone, it didn’t feel any better when I got home and held it up to show you, nor when I placed it in the bedroom and asked what you thought of it. I miss your voice, I miss hearing your opinions, I miss your laugh.
Today I read about a job opportunity and am considering applying. I wanted to ask you what you thought. Daydream together of what we would do if we were to move to another city. …how could I leave our home… …how could I not be minutes from our grave where you await…
I miss you, Mark. Every moment of every day and night.
I’m not sure when I last didn’t feel exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. On a positive note, I am functioning. It’s been hard to even imagine that “functioning” could be possible after the passing of my Mark. I don’t think I can ever accept what has happened, despite knowing it has, but I can go to work and cook for myself and even laugh again.
There are still days where grief squeezes me so tightly that I cannot breathe, but I try to focus on getting to the next minute, hour, or day in whatever way I can. In those moments it’s purely about survival (and consequently the inevitable questioning of what I am surviving for…); eventually and somehow, the minutes, hours, or day passes.
I have no goals, I have no dreams; they were buried with Mark. Someday I will figure out what I’m doing; just not yet, and it’s okay to not know right now.
I miss Mark every second of every day and desperately hope this new reality is not real. I love him with every bit of my soul and will continue to do so for the rest of time.