Lessons

I guess it was inevitable that I would get sick. The only silver lining was that I didn’t miss work or therapy and have amazing friends. Though my sister is furious with me for not calling her for help – she is forty minutes away and my friends are two. Sorry R – I know you are there for me always.

I did something horrible in the midst of my puking and learned a valuable lesson. It was Thursday night – 7 pm and I had just finished throwing my guts up. I had somehow gotten through dinner (pizza bagels served on the floor in front of the TV so I could lie on the couch) and was trying to get the kids to put their pajamas on so I could get them into bed. They were not listening and were running around and my world was spinning – literally. I started yelling at them to get dressed. They ignored me. So then I started yelling that I was so disappointed and couldn’t count on them when I really needed them and they weren’t here for me in my time of need. Then I stopped in mid scream and just started crying. Because I realized as the words were spewing from my mouth that I wasn’t talking to them. I was yelling at you. I was so sick and really needed you home to help me and you aren’t here – you are freaking dead!

As soon as the words passed my lips and I really heard what I was saying I knew they were not meant for my children. Even though I was so upset with myself I stopped crying. I looked at the two of them through my bleary eyes and told them how sorry I was for yelling and didn’t mean anything I just said. They looked at me confused by my quick change of pace and then went on not listening again. No damage done. But I realized in that moment that I do this a lot. I yell at the children when I am angry and frustrated, not so much at them, but at you. I am yelling at you through them and this is not helping anyone. You of course can’t even hear me – so what is the point?

Today I am better and am able to reflect a little about what I learned at therapy. There were three newbies there. People who have lost loved ones more recently than me. They reminded me of the first time I went. They cried a lot and had that lost and confused look on their faces. Though I still cry and look lost, I felt horrible for them. I wanted to give them all hugs and tell them that everything would be OK. But it would be a lie. Because nothing seems to ever feel like it will be OK ever again. The theme of the night was “mystery”. That each and every one of us are left with unanswerable questions to why our loved ones took their own life. The mystery of how this could have happened and the guilt we feel because maybe we could have done something differently. Knowing that everyone else feels as lost and confused as I should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

Tomorrow is five months. What have I leaned in five months. Nothing at all. Maybe this is why I left therapy feeling like maybe this isn’t enough for me. Maybe just being in a room with people who can relate to me better than anyone else in the world isn’t enough to make me whole again. There is a woman who lost her husband and has three children. She says that she will never be happy again. Never. I feel like I understand where she is coming from. The only thing that would truly make me happy again is to have my husband alive and for my children to have their father back. That would truly only make me happy too.

But the reality is that this will never happen. He has taken himself away from us forever. I hate the idea of never being happy again. My children deserve better than this, better than what I am right now. I don’t want to be sad mommy forever and I don’t think my dead husband would want this of me either. There has to be something in between never being happy again and missing my dead husband forever. There has to be someway to climb out of this pit of despair I have landed in. I don’t even know where to begin; how to close up this huge gaping hole in my soul. I am not sure what it is I am searching for. All I know is that I owe it to my children to at least start looking.

Maybe this means I need more therapy. Maybe it means I need drugs. I am not sure. Maybe it just means I need to fix everything that is not working right now in my life. Maybe I just need to get past this move and settle into someplace new. Spring will come and the sun will be shining and maybe I will want to go outside again. Maybe I will even smile and mean it.

I can’t believe it has been five months since you are gone. I feel like these past five months I have lived a lifetime. It feels like you have been gone five minutes. I could sit and cry for hours on end if I let myself. I just don’t let myself get so upset anymore – there isn’t any time.

I was so very angry with you yesterday. I could not believe how many people I had to call to ask for help and none of it would have been necessary if you were alive. I really needed you home to help me and I guess I know what I am really thinking. This is only the beginning of times where I need you and you aren’t here. It doesn’t help being angry at you. I guess I just really miss you so very much and spend so much time trying hard not to miss you, that when I can’t help it – when your absence is so apparent - it feels like you died all over again.

Tomorrow is another Saturday. I will not pack again I am sure. I will snuggle in bed with the kids and make them pancakes and we will try and figure out the day – just another Saturday without you.