Ice Cream

Yesterday I had three hours to myself. I decided to continue on my quest to packing up the house. Everywhere I look there are memories of you and it makes it quite challenging. I went into your office, looked at all the books, papers and photos of the family. I abruptly walked out and shut the door. Not today.

I went into your tool room and tried to take some of the random bits of wires and junk and throw them away. Instead I found your old photo album when you used to coach your eldest son’s little league. The smiles and love in your face – I just turned around and walked out of that room as well. Not today.

I went to the book shelf and thought books are innocent. I can pack the books – how bad can that be? In the very first book I picked up I found an old love note I once gave you that you used as a book mark. I walked away. Not today.

I ran though the house desperate to find someplace safe to start. My head spinning like a top. I didn’t know where to turn. You are everywhere and yet you are nowhere to be found. You aren’t helping me pack – you are just a ghost smiling from the shadows and I am crying and lost without you.

Then I thought – the freezer downstairs. How bad can chucking out some old meat and defrosting the extra freezer be? I was excited to get something done. I went down armed with a garbage bag ready to get something, anything accomplished. I opened the freezer and there it was; your carton of ice cream. The last thing you ate in this house. I can still picture you sitting on the couch, spoon in hand with the entire carton on your lap savoring every cold mouthful.

The day after you died I took the carton and hid it in the downstairs freezer. I didn’t want anyone to touch it, let alone eat from it. This is my sacred carton of ice cream. I collapsed on the floor of the basement hugging it. I miss you so much that I am clinging to a carton of ice cream just to feel closer to you.

I am pathetic.

I couldn’t throw it out – I just could not. So I put it in a plastic bag and moved it back to the upstairs freezer in the kitchen. I don’t know what to do when I finally move. I have a feeling I am going to want to bring it. I know this is weird – but this is all I have left. I just am incapable of throwing it away and don’t think I will let anyone else do it either. Your love for ice cream used to make me crazy. I would beg you to scoop it into a bowl like a normal person. I would yell that the children would learn this bad habit from you and please use a bowl. Now of course I am grateful you didn’t use a bowl – it make this carton even more special.

After almost three hours I had done nothing but move a carton of ice cream. I pulled myself together and went on through the house searching for safe things to pack. There are none. There isn’t once corner in this house that hasn’t been marked by you in some way.

Everyone wants to come over and help me pack and I just say no thanks. In some way my packing is going to battle and I need to do this by myself. I am facing my demons with every room I enter and every drawer I open. I am trying to bring only the good memories to my new home – I want to leave the demons behind. This does not include the ice cream.

Today I am angry again. I am not sure at whom. I find my emotions flip flop between grief and sadness and anger and hurt. Sometimes I find it is easier to accomplish more when I am angry. These emotions swirl through me and give me strength. The sadness on the other hand sucks the life out of me and I am just a sad sack unable to do anything but mope around in self pity.

I know deep down my husband didn’t choose to leave us – I know that he had a disease and was sick and that is what really killed him. But I feel awful that I didn’t know how sick he was. I feel like a terrible wife for not seeing what was right in front of me. I feel useless and feel betrayed. I am angry at him for not asking for help and angry at me for not realizing he needed it.

The cemetery is calling me – like it does each and every Thursday. Thursdays used to be your day off and we would always do something – even if it was nothing. I always miss you the most on Thursday. But I can’t go tomorrow – I actually won’t let myself. The empty refrigerator is yelling at me and though I would love to ignore it, my children won’t let me. I have packing to do, have to clean for Passover and all the other life stuff that I never have the time for.

A big part of me just wants to get a huge tub of ice cream, go to your grave and just sit with you – even if only for a little while.