Crawl through the fire of grief......

dear chris.....

last time I wrote I just wrote that I didn't want to be alone, although I seldom am, what I really meant is that I WANTED chris.....back in my life, here to talk to. Impossible relationships, my special gift (Richard Gere is in my head again). I can talk to Chris, through letters, here....maybe he will answer back.

Dear Chris:
I hope you are enjoying the transformation of the deck railing. I think it is quite spectacular, although is is not "up to code" or "historical". The poor carpenter has been so nervous about not pulling a permit and being caught by the building inspector that I gave him an Ativan last week. (I think it was more about his girlfriend problems...but I will get to that later).
I remembered when I had the inside stair rail done as a father's day present for you. We had been constantly working on the house, and had had all the walls plastered. You were investigating different approaches to the railing to make it less early American and more us. Unbeknownst to you I hired a carpenter to come in and look at the pictures you had earmarked in your magazines and decorator books (metro sexual that you are). In a matter of hours the railing was done and I saved you a whole weekend of work. You were very surprised and I think you really liked it (although you didn't like that it cost over $1400.00.
The deck railing replicates the inside railing. It has PVC sleeves over the old posts and the metal wire in between. I am thrilled that it means no more painting! John (the carpenter) even made a wide top for your stereo speakers and drink!
Only one small part had to be wood but other wise it is maintenance free!
It looks great and I have been wondering what you would have though of it. It was the original railing the Dave put up and was always a mess. You didn't have any ideas when it came to replacing it and there is always the code/historic issues. Well now it is done. I hope you love it!

tapestry

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lost weekend

afteri went to a book signing formy friend Steve and Max left i took to my bedm too tired to attend to the moutain of chores...laundry,bills filing, paperwork. totally sapped of any energy. I looked back I was in the same shape last year. It was 2 oclockand i laid down, turned the tv on and just laid there. the thought og getting up crossed my mind. I told myself i would get up at 230 then 3, then 330 all the way to 530. i was to hear from mac a out getting together for dinner but did't and iwas glglad. I didn't eat or drink I just laid ther all aftrrnoon and evening watching lifetime and googling nonsense. fianally at 10 i decide to shut down the electronics.

so sad

A year later.....still having tough days and this is one of the toughest in what will now be known as year 2. Good grief, another year of writing all this down?
So so sad today, worried about money and home repairs and having enough. A new deck railing costs $3600.00, too much, can't do it. (of course the HDMI wire would have paid for that). A million thoughts run through my head. Get my shit together, write Max a nice letter and disappear (it's a feeling----you readers out there ok?)
I have PT tonight, endless therapy to solve the brokenness of my hip/back/spirit.
She runs me through the "assessment". whatever, get me outta here, it's almost 8 and Adam is on AI. He kept me alive today.....can't wait to see him, here him talk (no singing tonight he is a mentor). I blast my FYE CD in the car, play Fever 3 times, in its synthcy wonderment. Wish he would play THAT on AI on Wednesday. Ah two nights of Adam on AI just when I needed it the most.

Adam doesn't disappoint. He is a mentoring king, pushing the lame into talented.
At one point he sings a wee bit of an Elvis song it is enough. I feel free, happy for just one second of a long miserable day.....and then some magic happens

After AI I decide to rip the japan CD (the one with rabbit hole on it) have to hear it in my car.....
While it is ripping/burning I hit the speakers in the front room, it blasts. I go toward the speakers so I can hear it all....start to move, I am dancing! moving. dancing without much pain....oh there is a little but I haven't moved like this in years without pain.....a special gift, a special uplift from my masacraed angel.

in the aftermath

It's not ok that you are gone and left me here with all the rest of my lie to figure out. We owe (YOU, YOU owe) $18,000.00 in taxes. Capital gains for your stupid etrade account that I can't even get to. How am I supossed to pay that? WTF, Chris.
And if that was't bad enough I have boxes and boxes of your stuff to go through. Not the clothes and books and music and dvd's that are upstairs. No the boxes in your computer room downstairs. I was going to leave them alone til I discovered that the mice have been making quite a nice nest in them. Yeah the mice I kept telling you we had, that you wrote to Gail about :" Karen thinks there is a mouse downstairs and points to some black dirt as proof". Well smarty pants I guess I was right. They sure do like all the copies of the Lowell Connector. What is that newspaper? It is the newspaper from when you were at ULowell, OVER 29 years ago.
What were you saving them for?????? I burned them all in the "outdoor fireplace/trash burner". Hope you are not mad.
I also clenaed out some of your leftover odds and ends from re wiring the house.. All those spools of HDMI wire. Yeah I found out later that they were worth over 4 grand. How was I to know? I put them out on the sidewalk and they were gone in 60 seconds......How do I know what is important to save and what isn't since you save EVERYTHING. Yeah all the cards and letters from Nahid and Gail and Lynne and your mother and Steve Lincoln, all predating email. I am surprised you didn't scan them.
I feel like I don't even know you.....Najid held your hatred of Lynne.She wrote to you of how much she loved you so much that she hated Lynne for you because you couldn't. Is that true? And does it even matter?
I guess it shows that there are two sides to every story te story you told yourself and the stories the girls are telling me now. Is this why you were so protective of your stuff? You didn't want me to find out thestory behind the story? As if I would have cared.
Maybe I didn't know you and you didn't know me. Otherwise why would you have left all of this for me to sift through?

April 2 2010 Evening

22 people for dinner!?!? What was I thinking? An unique way to remember Chris, something to create that we could look forward (??) to every year. Definitely a marker, though, a big deal. Lynne came early to help. Gail abstained. Only 2/3rds of the harem, oh well t would have to do. My fantasy was that if all three of us (withces of Eastwick) were here he would have to show, the pull would be too strong.
The table is set it looks better than I thought, all aglow in white linens and candles. I love the way everything looks, dreamy, spiritual. Candles everywhere. white rocks from Racepoint beach as place cards. It truly is a magical space created in our home. The sun is setting and the slanting rays cast a golden sheen on everything.
Folks start arriving, Kathy my next door neighbor comes bearing the meatloaf she prepared as well as Chris's favorite dessert Marble Cake1. Laurie comes with her trinkets and tools. A Sage brush to cleanse the energy of each guest before they enter the house. Not sure how this will go over with my Catholic "I can't eat on good Friday" sister and her Asian husband, but I want to do this right. Jared, my "tadpole" gets to stand outside with the burning sage brush and as each person approaches the door, he tells them that it is to cleanse their energy. Everyone has dressed in white and it lends a oneness to the night. Guests are respectfully quiet as the enter, carrying their offerings to kitchen. Laurie's partner is making the mashed potatoes and I was curious why he waited to make them here instead of making them at Laurie's and bringing them, one taste and I didn't care. They were creamy perfect clouds of yum, just the way Chris would have loved them. Simple, pure and whiter than white. I was in charge of the chicken and stuffing (in the bird of course). Andrea made a chopped vegetable salad with the whitest creamiest ranch dressing. All his favorite foods, all his favorite friends, what more could he want.
I don't really believe that he will show up in 3 d , I just want a whisper of a feeling, like a soft breeze that catches my attention for just a moment, brushes my cheek with its coolness and separateness. A sense of special.
Finally everyone (but Mac, Brit and Neal ---who are at a God Friday ?Celebration) is here. After a few minutes of enjoying Chris favorite appetizers, bread with dipping oil and scallops wrapped in bacon, washed down with a white russian or rum madras, Laurie rings her Tinga bells. She says nothing just a simple one note ring. She only has to do it twice and everyone is silent. She asks everyone to take their place at the table so that we may begin. By now it is dark outside, but there is sufficient candlelit for everyone to make there way to the table. Clad all in white the clothing seems to glow in the darkness. It looks as if we are lit from withing. Is that the meaning, the message? We all carry a part of Chris with us? Us who are left behind. Or is it us who have moved away from him?
We settle in, silent, even Aurora cooperates.
Laurie speaks:
" Grief is an altered state. Death forces the mind/body to enter another state of consciousness, another dimension. Our friend Karen has entered this awareness this past year. We have all observed her pain, both emotional and physical.
Chris and Karen shared a special love. They, the king and queen lived in the Love Shack while welcoming all of us into their home. It was clear to me that they knew how fortunate they were to have one another. They appreciated one notherr and the life they co created together. it was close to a perfect relationship. I smile when I remember Chris rolling his eyes as Karen took yet another call from a desperate client and talked them off the ledge.

I believe Karen found her anchor, in Chris, her ground her dearest friend. and within their love she healed some of hr deepest wounds.

Chris' world opened up by sharing life with a wild woman. This vibrant ever changing with the new liberated, high energy, loving female changed his world and made it fun and exciting. He told me so,

And so Karen was forced into the sacred practice this year, fored to bear the unbearable. The loss and grief of a beloved husband nd companion. She has experienced that very skillfully at times:individual therapy, group therapy, support groups, journaling, crying, blogging, eating, not eating, drinking, not drinking, being alone, being with friends, working too much and turning grey.

Sometimes when she stopped resisting she would go directly into the pain,sometimes moment by moment.

As Karen moved through her grief sh has had to push herself beyond her own limits to go beyond whatever and who ever she had previously imagined herself and her life to look like. I believe Chris prepared her for thistransformation of inner bonding as hard as it was and still is.

During this difficult long year of mourning she never stopped caring cooking,laughing,volunteering and being there for others with her wit, her energy and her food. Adam Lambert, the sexy massacred angel, sang to her to guide her along her path. And she has black leather glove to prove it.

Karen's essence energy is straight from the heart. Chris'essence energy is straight is straight from the heart.

In the words of one of my favorite spiritual teachers Stephen Levine 'when we die energy moves from one state of being to energy of a different kind'.

i invite us all to have a moment of silence together to honor Chris' spiritual energy and heartfelt essecne and to see, embrace and acknowledge Karen in all her goodness and growth"

Karen may you saturate yourself with compassion and deep self care and move forward living your life from your deepest highest most alive self."

I am blown away by Laurie's words. She has crystallized the year and in true and beautiful way. We are all silent.

Laurie invites others to speak. Using Chris' GORT figurine as a talking stick she invites everyone to share something with me.

Janet tells a story of a time when she and Chris after one of the many many meetings they attended to advocate for dogs in the park, went out for a drink. As was their habit she called Mike and Chris called me to join them. Before we got there Janet shared that Chris asked her to compliment me when she saw me as I had just begun a bootcamp-style workout and had lost some weight and he wanted me to feel good about it and continuing. I had not heard the story before and it was another shared moment demonstrating how loved I was.

one year later ~morning

It is April 2nd 2010. a year ago I lost the love of my life. Did I know then what the impact would be? His death affects everything, colors everything, every decision, every action, every thought or feeling I have is colored by the loss.

I wake up at 4:30 AM too early for my meditation at the time of death 5:38 am. I have the alarm set for 5:20. i try to coax my self back to sleep, it is dark. I think back to the night he died. His rising up out of bed only to fall into child's pose, the struggle he experienced to "pass". I must have fallen asleep with these thoughts for the next thing I remember is the bleep bleep of the alarm. It is 5:20. I feel exhausted. I turn off the alarm. I move over to his side up the bed, the last spot he wa alive on this earth. I am sitting up I try to meditate, solo, no CD or music. I breathe in and out, I heighten my awareness. I want to notice something a sign a feeling. I watch the numbers on the clock change ...it is a slow deliberate process. Maybe that is the problem it is too deliberate. I am not in the moment I am trying to be in the moment. That's not how these things work...
Finally it is 5:36. Two minutes to go.....Aurora, Chris' beloved Labrador begins to twitch in an jerky manner. It is not her typical having a dream moving the legs but an all over her body shaking. She keeps it up for two minutes. I don't pat her or interrupt whatever it is that is going on. Is she getting a message from Chris? It is because she is not trying or at least I don't suppose she she is) that she gets to receive something form him? I have nothing. the clock moves to 5:39. The time has passed. I have not received a message or a sign or any comfort from this special time.
Is it because I was trying too hard? Wanted it too much? Or because it simply is not there?
The day stretches before me. Tonight is the "small" remembrance dinner. Nothing to do for that. I decide to walk the dog, maybe she will share what her twitching was about.

T-2

Saw my therapist today, the regular one not the Hospice one....We tried to recreate the lst days of Chris. What was happeneing. I saw her the day before Chris died, was still hopeful about Florida. I shared that I wished she had pushed me more to have important dialogues with Chris, not about pragmatic thing but about what he was feeling, what he was thinking about his life and his possible death. I am looking for some sort of statement or statments that could have served to guide me during the next 365 days. But those conversations didn't happen.....I was left a drift without an anchor. Adrift to navigate the seas of loss and grief.
It is almost too much to bear. it is not the ripping, tearing, searing pain as it was not so long ago, but it is an allover pain. A dull all over ache that weighs me down....will it be lifted on April 3rd? who knows.

T-3 and counting

3 days til one year. A whole year without you ....unbelievable and I survived....barely. Oh ok, I survived, but didn't thrive. I came out the on the other side. I hurt, I miss you but I still had time for friends occasionally, I went to a few social things (Jack and Sammy's birthdays).
It is a roller coaster, one minute I am level the next minute I drop down, down, down into the vortex of pain. My hip feels slightly better so I can feel more emotional pain, just in time....are you lifting the pain so I can feel my heartache more?
I wished I had written more about that last week at home. Some parts are clear, others foggy. I was frightened of losing you, and yet you were slipping away. I thought the lactulose would help you wake up, but it didn't make you vibrant.
I feel heavy with sadness, yet hopeful that the dinner will bring some lightness.
I talked to Lynne tonight. we talked more about the dream. We are very close and I feel you through her. She knew you so well, so much better than I did in some ways. You truly were like minded. How funny that we are such good friends, now. I remember when we were first dating, how important it was for us to meet. And how we were instant friends,,,,,,how nice that she is here for me. A special gift.

and what will you do with all those Oxy's????

I met with my therapist today. I told her about wanting to remember Chris' last week and wishing that I had written more....we tried to recreate parts of.....Hospice admit, Spread sheets of meds and times, a horrible trip to Bank of America. All that.
I shared that I had a bad appointment with the pain doctor and that he gave me a Rx for Oxy's....which I took and filled despite having all of Chris leftover pain medications.
She asked me why I took it....I was offered. I didn't get it at first, but she was worried that I might do something with all these pills around.....

FML

I Hate My Life. Hate Hate Hate. Pretty Hate Machine. Can you tell this is a bad day? Immense pain all day, cry at my desk nears tears all day kind of pain. Searing hip pain, limping crushing mind altering pain. Took an Oxy -no relief. Want to end my life so I can't feel this kind of pain. Too bad I had to borrow my son's truck or I would have driven my car over the Annisquam bridge.
I cried on and off all day today, the pain, the helplessness the what do I have to live for. FUCK. I am done. I have had enough. Maybe I would feel different if I didn't hurt so much. But I can't do anything. The tulips are up but they won't last long covered by leaves. I tried to rake the leaves off and was rewarded by pain running up and down my leg. It's too much.
I am doing everything I can to help myself
My therapist thinks the pain is from my grief.
The medical intuitive thinks it is from carrying Chris' cancer.
The chiropractor thinks it is from sublaxation.
The acupuncture thinks it is my gall bladder
My PCP thinks it is my back.
The back Doctor thinks it is bursitis in my hip
The orthopd thinks it is arthritis.
Can't anyone agree? Can't anyone help the bereaved widow take care of her emotional pain which is severe being sublimated by this physical pain?
If I have to deny my grief process much longer..............
you make this all go away, you make this all go away.
I am down to just one thing and I am starting to scare myself.
I just want something I can never have.......
My
Life
Back.
Grey would be the color if I had a heart.

Widows group-homework

We were to write a letter to our dearly departed.
Here's mine:

Dear Chris:
Where are you? why can't you contact me? What happened when you died? were you afraid? I tried to not let you be frightened. I am frightened and sad and so so confused. Do you know that? Can you see and and are helpless to help me? Does that upset you or is this one big cosmic joke? Are you sitting somewhere watching me struggle, knowing that this is my journey because yours is complete.
I talked to Lynne last night. She had a dream with you in it. It was amazing. Are you in her dreams because you can't get into mine. In her dream you were standing by the water on a beach......P town or St. Thomas she was not sure. I was with her. We knew it was you from your profile. She wanted to approach but I was afraid and couldn't move. She went toward you, you had Buddhist robes on, you were enlightened. She put her hands around you not touching but near you outlining you, absorbing your energy. she brought all that energy to me and gave it to me.....
Is that it?
Are you enlightened, and Lynne can see but I cannot. Is she the passage to my enlightenment? or just the messenger? Am I supposed to understand now that you were here only for a short time to help me learn the many lessons you taught me?
It seems like that is what is happening. I just want the dream myself............

overwhelming sadness

It is barely dawn, dark with a hint of light. i lie in bed looking out the window at the pink and gray of a new day. Isn't that were I am supposed to be? coming out of the darkness? It has been 345 days, 11 months and 11 days. 20 days from now it will be the " death anniversary". What a term. Maybe it is because it is the weekend and although I have to go to work and group I don't have that jump out of bed urgency. I miss him. I miss Chris. I miss having our lives to share with each other. It is a sadness that is very deep. It is in my bones, deep withing It has changed me, it has altered my DNA.
I cannot fathom why he was taken from this world. What is the meaning?Is there a meaning? Why was Lindsay's fiancee taken from her? They were so in love, so perfect for each other? Is there any order in this chaos? Why did Chris just finish the kitchen, the last renovation of the house only to die 16 months later? What does this all mean? My mind feels confused and yearning to know. Why did I meet Chris? We met through an online dating service back in the day when such things were a novelty. What compelled me to write to him? Meet him? Marry him? Is it as the medical intuitive thought that I am drawn to those in need....Chris, Bob, Dave? Is that my lot in life eternal caretaker, giver, helper?
I thought Chris was my reward for all those years of suffering in bad relationships beginning with my childhood. I had endured a hellish upbringing, a bad marriage, a broken heart and here was this man loving me in a way that I had never known. thanks for loving me, because you are doing it perfectly.....what do you want from me? a line from Adam's single on the radio now.....what does life want from me, now?
Should I take that job in Provincetown? Move away from everything related to Chris, leave his masterpiece of a house and start over in our favorite place?
I am paralyzed still, I show up to life as it is listed on my schedule, I go to work and social events as indicated on the PDA. But I am not living, I am sleepwalking through life. And I don't want to do anything to change it, that would take me away from my grief, the only connection I have with my husband.....

Will Rogers Follies

Tonight was my friend Lauren's son's (Aaron) play "Will Rogers Follies". I dreaded going, the people I might run into who I haven't seen since last year's play (Copa Cabana.)
I m a huge Aaron fan though and wouldn't miss it. I haven't missed one of his performances since he was Chip in Beauty and the Beast (they brought him from middle school to be in a high school production.) He has a great voice and presence and he like all good performers, takes you out of yourself.
Ultimately I am glad that I went. Aaron seemed genuinely glad that I was there, hugging me and chatting after the show. I ran into a former high school guidance counselor "Madonna"---the nickname my then 2 year old have given her on his many trips to the high school while being cared for by my friend Lauren (yes we have been friends that long). Madonna (her real name is Donna) hadn't seen me, and expressed her sympathies. I wasn't upset that she did,it was the right thing to do. But it numbed me out. I just shut down. I felt like I have been given a drug. Everything feels heavy, deadened, anesthetized, detached,remote. Everything I hear and see seems far away. I feel as if I am watching myself. After the play I have to grocery shop for the Shrayer/Huth dinner. A quaterly event in which I buy and cook food with the Huth girls and I schlep the food over to Huths's the Shrayers show up and in 45 minutes, 5 hours of work and a 100 bucks is gone.
I shop I have a list I am robotic. I feel nothing, I don't care if I am here or home, nothing sinks in.
In the car Adam is on singing "Pick You Up". One of my favorites because he laughs at the end. The song seems to penetrate me, but it the only thing that penetrates. Even writing this now seems surreal. I see my hands hitting the keys but feel so detached. Some one pick me up......

waterr bowl~widows group

this is our third meeting. This group is different, the leader has less control and there are times when some group members talk more than others and the social worker in me gets tense, wanting to help the group move along so that everyone gets enough time, but that is not my role here. The group tonight has an activity involving a bowl of water that we add food coloring to, to represent our feelings. I add purple, because it was a color favorite that brought Chris and I together. I am missing him and one of his favorite colors represents that. After everyone puts in their colors, red for anger, blue for sorrow, the water is black. We then add drops of bleach to represent our coping, mine is this blog, others have family, friends etc...I do too, but writing is the best for me because I don't have to feel like it needs reciprocating. The water lightens....the lesson here is that with time, we will have clearness back, tinged with the color of our grief but not so black. It is a different experience, this art stuff. It takes away some of the intensity, although I feel that it resonates within everyone.

DISCLAIMER

This is a tough time for me. the feelings and emotions that are expressed in this blog are just that. It can be dark and painful to read. I am not planning anything.I am just out of my mind. I promise to come back someday. So please don't send the white coats over here ok

NIN

March, the month of the big slide when Chris began his descent to the the other side. Yesterday was so bad, I cried all the time, losing it here and there, culminating in a massive melt down at a YOGA class. I was so gone. I called Laurie hoping for some insight into why I was losing it in such a big. Bogged down with boyfriend problems, she doesn't hear her phone or chooses not to answer or listen to my message.
I go home....Not wanting to drink beer (gasoline on the fire) I opt for something different.... I HATE Riesling....a white wine, a favorite of Lynne's. It is ok. I start googling "how to make suicide look like a natural death" oh I am serious. I have had it. I see the road ahead. I know it's bad. I don't want to relive it I know how it ends......I google it for awhile, mostly message boards full of hope for the poor saps like me that have had enough...and I have had enough. It's like ok I have lasted 11 months isn't that enough? I did my best. I suffered through all the holidays, the anniversaries. I made it. I coped so what did it prove? Not a fucking thing. That I can suffer I guess. That I can cry and rail and rant and rave. and still go to work and do amazing things and be a great therapist, a great placer of the unplaceabale. a phenonm. and yet when I get home I am ugly, rageful, sorrowful and insane. two people or just one crazy person. surely i am not the only woman who was in love with her husband to the point of painful only to have lost it all. Did they all go crazy did they all enter the nether world at night?
I want to leave this life.....take a job in P town, California? (my other google obsession) or just check out.
My therapist checks in with me....do I have any plans for the future( an indicator that I am not all that serious). Yes I am going to Phantom of the Oprah with Dave,I have a legit hotel reservation in August for Carnival and I have a son.... I wouldn't put Max through anything this grotesque. He is the only thing that keeps me from driving my car off the bridge. (one of the recommendations from the sight).
My sister calls. Adam on Leno. I did dvr it but the dvr cuts off before it is over...of course.
Last year we were at the Brigham took the ambulance in, his crit was down to 15 (12 =death)he was admitted. We spent the better part of 2 weeks there.It was up nd down. I read the caring bridge today.I am icily calm in my writing. technical without being too graphic. Just the facts.....some humor but short, unlike the longer entries over the past 5 years. 5 FUCKING years that I tried to save him....yeah I know I am not an oncologist, but whatever.
Is this the apocalypse? do I only have to get through this then I can die too?
AsI sit here the pain flows through me like hot waves, over and over.
Though it all looks differnt now I know it is all the same
Everywhere I look you're all I see
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be
Who we used to be.

one year ago......

From Caring Bridge.....
Monday, March 2, 2009 1:43 PM, CST

Well after a tough weekend (Chris is still short of breath and bascially bed to bathroom and back) We were glad to be going to Dana Farber for a scheduled Transfusion (hereafter known as Tfx). I had the drive way all sholved, the car warmed up....we were good to go at 5:15---out appoitnment was scheduled for 7 AM. Chris asked me to wheel him out on my desk chair because he was felt a little weak to walk from the bedroom to the stairs (don't know what we were going to do at the top of the stairs).... LONG story (ok medium) short... I called the good boys at Lyons. (ambulance) and for a mere???? thousand dollars they drove us in in record time (how does 1 hour and 40 minutes sound?

so we got here Chris 'crit was 15, he needs 4 more buckets of Tfx bags. AND they admitted him (penthouse of course!). So I am on the 16th floor with my hubby waiting for the gastro boys to plunder his esphogus looking for bleed

Vault

Long day at work......Huge success at the 11th hour placing an unplaceable patient, tired but happy. I offer the PT a ride home, with a caveat that he would have to stop at the grocery store first as I am having a party for Mac---he is engaged. Doogie (the PT) doesn't know Mac but he is happy for a ride to the train even though it involves a trip to the grocery store first!
He is a happy person and it is infectious, he runs up and down the isles expediting my list, milk, pie crust garlic. all missed with the first pass through all brought by Steve (his real name)
I drop him off at the depot and go home to cook. I admire the kitchen, and I start, wild rice in , veggies chopped
I decide to turn on the vault after all we will need music tomorrow, more than just my tinny radio,
I actually manage to turn on the vault,hit the TV and the receivers....what to play?
Jim has it all alphabetized different than Chris....so I pick an "A" Aaron Neville, he is first in the list....
I hit on and it plays in the back room,but not in the front, i tweak the knobs til I hear it in the front I move to the front room and I hear it.... the music, it fills the house.
All of a sudden I crack,I crumble. the music is loud, it fills all the empty spaces in the house.
I haven't played music in so long it overwhelms me. This is a gift from Chris.
I lose it, I sob I hold onto the door jamb between the two rooms. I realize what I have lost and it cuts through me. It hurts. I feel like I am being split into two.
I love Aaron Neville and his music has always been so beautiful to me and now I am overwhelmed. I can barely hang on to the door jamb, I am crying, screaming and sobbing.....there are no words just sheer and raw pain, like a wounded animal wanting to be killed I cry until i can't cry anymore.....

long way home

late again leaving work at the Cape Ann hospital (still leery of Big Brother so I won't name it here. driving home or to my next shift at my other job. I have 3 clients yet to see, something that would never happen if Chris were alive, I would be heading home to make dinner, enjoy a meal and some AI with my husband. It strikes me that I can't remember what that feels like. I try to pretend he is home or that he will be home. what did I think while driving all those nights when he was alive. What was happening a year ago? I do remember thinking about the possibility that someday I WOULD be doing what it is I am doing now. Driving home as a widow, alone to an empty house. I chastised myself then, if you think it will make it happen, I hated myself for going there in my head, but it was like biting a sore tooth, you can't stop....or at least I can't. I imagined the loneliness and emptiness.I imagined being able to go to the second job after the first, not having to cook dinner, not having anyone to kiss at the end of the day, not having anyone to even know that I made it home after a snowy night.
Why oh why, then can't I remember the real feelings of going home every night to all that love that Chris had for me? What was I thinking on this stretch of 128? What to make for dinner? What we would watch on TV? Looking forward to hearing about his day and telling him about mine. Having a warm and open presence.....just someone who got me, loved me and lived for me.
So so easy for me to slip in the " this is what it will feel like when he is dead" mode when he was alive, than to feel the memory of what it was like to drive home to him when he was alive.
Why is that?
Why?
Y?

Happy anniversary

10 Years ago I married a wonderful man who loved me like i have never been loved before. And now he is gone, taken from me .....for what reason I will never understand. Even in my deepest meditative buddha state, I can't get it. Was it karma? something I needed to learn? It must be one hell of a lesson for someone to have to die. I prefer to think it has absolutely no meaning except it is part of my shit life. Doomed to this I was from the start I guess. It is why I will never recover from this, I don't want to, to recover means to risk hoping for some semblence of a normal, maybe happy like. Why risk that again? If I am miserable and in pain, and stay that way nothing can be taken from me again. Very Buddhist of me to form no attachenments. Maybe the job in Provincetownwould help me, move away from everything I love, form no new attachemnts and never get hurt again. Oh I will carry this pain, but I won't get any more pain.

Young Widows Group Part Deux

So I decided to do another group at Hospice.I feel like I need a place to go to be with other widows. I know about the group in Lynn, but its lack of structure and leader is scary to me, the therapist that has run homicide survivor groups for 25 years. I can't imagine putting clients in a room by them selves, with no agreements to meet weekly and support each other, the come as you are where you are of a drop in group is so very foreign to me. I need the safety of a group leader and the safety of a start and end date.
The first group was ok, the leader was different a young "counselor" type. She probably has her masters but seems very nervous, she is obviously taking over for Holly the widow who ran the first group I attended, but is not here now.
We go around the room, introductions......mostly cancer deaths, a heart attack, an aneurysm. I am drawn to Lyndsay, not just her name, but she is young, fragile, lost her fiancee suddenly. They were so in love never fought and cherished each other. She had the love I had with Chris, I felt an affinity with her. She had what I had, she lost what I lost.
She is the reason that I come the second week. I didn't want to come after the first session. Not sure why, just didn't want to.....couldn't NOT go though, the therapist in me has to "show up".
There are less of us this week, the lone male is late ---he didn't want to come either......The leader opens up with asking us to describe our relationship what we lost and how the person died. I am shocked that this is the direction she is going in, but I am curious to hear everyone stories. I don't think we talked about this int he other group.
It is hard, I cry when i describe the loss and how it went down.....next week it picture week......good grief seems like we are on the fast track. The first group I couldn't stand to bring a picture, I still feel the same. How cnaI bring a picture when I can't stand to look at one?

the green bowl

I decide to have cereal for breakfast, unusual for me, I usually like something warm. All the dishes are dirty, and the dishwasher is full. The only bowl available is Chris green plastic tupperware bowl. It was his favorite and I wasn't allowed to toss it. It was perfect for Raisin Bran (he liked to soak them in milk til soggy), perfect for Wiz Fizz (his root beer and ice cream concoction) and when he s single it was his go to bowl for his Dinty Moore and wonder bread creation. Oh yes the green plastic bowl was much cherished by Chris and much derided by me. It didn't have a place near my 25 dollar a bowl recycled glass bowls, or my Crate and Barrel clear bowls.It would end up in the cupboard or drawer siting on top of something else, out of place and unwanted by this chef. I once asked him if I could toss, I was soon listening to the virtues of this forlorn piece of tupperware. So it stayed. It held his Raisin Bran and later when we went organic/sugar free cancer fighting diet, it held his organic bran flakes with organic raisins sweetened with agave. I even made sugar free ice cream and ho made sugar free root beer for non cancer feeding sugar free Wiz Fiz ( he proclaimed it better than edible, but quite good!).
So the bowl holds alot more than just food this morning as I poru my Specail K into it. I think about all the times he held the bowl in his hands or had it by his side at his desk waiting ti the cereal was just the right kind of mush. He had this bowl for 15 plus year (maybe 20) and I wanted to throw it out......and now O am so glad the bowl is here. I had never used it before. It was a good cereal bowl with it's graduated side. I held it in my hands, I started to cry. Is this all I have left of the man I loved? What if I had thrown it away? I would have been so sad, missing it, another part of him lost to me.
The tears ruin what little appetite I have, finishing this breakfast will be a true Special K challenge.

Angel Catcher

I have started the Angel Catcher journal. I saw it in a book store and it is a journal of sorts, except it has prompts.....My last conversation with you was.....
Your favorite ice cream was......You last read this book.......it is book of memories, designed to capture what is fresh in the memory before it fades to black. I only did a few pages. It was tough. I put the pen down and turn off the light. Lying back I stretch my arm out over to "your side" of the bed. It will always be your side, closest to the bathroom and the books, my side is closer to the window and the light. I lay my arm across the bed where your heart would be. It feels warm, the first time I feel rather than hear you (in my head). Swollen hot tears flow down my face. I don't dare move my hand to lose the connection I think I feel. I gaze out the window, I often leave the shutters open lately, so I can see the dawn when it comes. I miss you so so much. I am barely living, hanging on, I go to work and get the bills paid, the laundry done when it hits critical mass. It doesn't seem right that you aren't here, I don't want it, this single life, this one ness. I feel you now, I believe that your energy is here somehow, but I am not satisfied. I want you in 3 D. I want to hold you, kiss you goodnight, make love to you, all of that is lost. In a weird way I know why some poeple don't like creamion. There is nothing left of you. Your mom goes to you dad's grave. His body IS there. She also goes to your sister's grave, she is there. Where are you? In a marble box in the living room?, pieces of you in a small urn in the bedroom. Maybe I should have had you buried so I too would have a place to go. I went to my father's cometary a few times, but he was created and then buried, I didn't feel like he was there. Of course he wasn't there when he was alive---but that's another story.
The pain is fresh. It hurts like the the first few weeks. Masybe trying to remember is moving things around in my head and stirring up too much. Maybe I am doing too little or too much. What is right? What is wrong? It is so hard to know which away to turn. All i know that you dying is horribly wrong for you, for me and for the rest of our world, now my worls. Som empty with out you.

all by myself

Saturday
Have to go see clients today......the curse of the 60 hour work week.
I am checking email and glance over the camera that it is on the counter.
It strikes me...I have to dowmload the pictures and archieve them, I have to manage all the media, the electronics, the home repairs big and small, all of it is mine and mine alone.
It does not ovewhelm me so much anymoore it saddens me. I can do , I have learned how to do so many things, it's just that I don't want to or feel that I should have to.
I was so loved and cared for by chris, and now I don't even care about myself enough to do the simplest things. It is only because Lynne is coming that I clean the bathroom or pick up the clohes off the back of the couch. I have laundry to d and now it will get down, out of some sort of respect for Lynne's friendship. It is sad, pitiful this life.Maybe I would feel more like doing things if the hip pain was not so overbearing. I makes me slug like and pathetic. Somehow I don't care. Maybe the streroids are making the anit depressant less effective? Who knows and who cares.
I have so muuch work to do. It is three o clock and I must hwead back to the office for a few hours. Ah the single life.

bone weary

so tired today. Had Acupuncture today for the hips/back. Hoping it can help. I liked the acupuncture, it reminded me of Chris going to Tom Tam. It was really relaxing and I felt myself drifting off. I remembered that this was always Chris' favorite part of the Tom Tam experience. I am lucky that I know the practitioner from the New Earth book group.It made it easier somehow.
When I left I was so sleepy. I met with Laurie for a while then had two clients, it was a struggle. I went to a store afterward to get something to wear for the fundraiser. By the time I walked half way around the store I had to leave, I was in so much paining. Limping to the car I started to cry, the pain hurt so much and I felt myself getting angry. Angry that this pain is standing in the way of my grief pain. Angry that I am putting so much effort into fixing this pain and I feel no different. Maybe I should quit the chiropractor. I am so tired of dealing all of this. So very very weary. I would just like a day that is normal, get up, shower and get dressed without wincing in pain, do some mediation, reading, walk the dog. I can't do any of this without pain. And I have so much I want to do but the pain prevents me which makes me depressed, angry and tired. When will it get better. And even if my hip gets better will the rest of my life be any better? Or will I be confronted with enormity of my loss, the emptiness of the rest of my life. I feel like I can't concentrate on anything as all I can think of is wanting to saw off my leg. (Maybe I have been watching too many Jig SAW movies???)
I get home and stagger to the couch, the dog needs to go and I stumble down the stairs to let her out, still crying. I contemplate the assortment of leftover cancer drugs I have, none of them worked before......perhaps a six pack, but even that doesn't appeal to me anymore.
I decide to try and watch tv but can't. AI is on at nine I won't make it,I crawl into bed at 8 PM and leave the TV on. I don't know when I pass out, but I eventually do.

2/2/2010

10 months today. No wonder I woke up so early this morning. the one year mark is coming. I await it's reach with baited breath. It's like I can't breathe until it gets here, then what? I will breathe again, or I will know that I survived the worst thing that could happen.

mosaic thougts

Can't gather all my thoughts into one coherent entry. So here is my mosaic.....
When I got home from work there were two blue hand blown vases on the granite counter top. Jared was here. The vases swirled with blue, a bud vase and a wider one --could be a candle holder or a vase. Not unlike the larger orange one he gave me a while back.
Isn't it strange that the woman who has long collected leftover glass in pieces weighting up to 50 pounds is now hanging out with a real life glass blower, who is filling her home with home made glass trinkets?

Debbie (a nurse at AGH) asked me today how I was doing, I seem ok...she said "do I have any real moments of happy?". I told her about the group calling me out when they asked me the same thing...I always answer humorously never real.... and how being alone was hard. I seem to be mostly ok around lots of poeple a change from 6 months ago when I couldn't be in a crowd of more than 2 without crying, now it is like I am performimg.....look at her she is doing so well......
And then I cried all the way home tonight, overwhelmed with the fundraiser, stress from Mark Libon and an uncertain future.

Talked to Max today, he is broke again, he is going through cash so quickly I am worried that he might be into something bad. I swear this is the last deposit I make ito his checking account.

I spent Saturday going through stuff in the back room, Chris' sanctuary. The dust and dog hair were alittle overwhelming. I wanted to start a fire and did. The years of Fine Home Building Magazine were weighing heavy on me. I hate the build up of paper especially magazines. Maybe it's my sister's husband's office filled to the brim with scientific journals that got to me once, or maybe it's just thatI did buy Chris the entire FHB collection on DVD ( for 400 bucks---it is still in the shrink wrap). If I have them on disk why keep them here? I know if he was here and alive he would just tell me to leave them there, are his and I need to respect his stuff.....which always makes this so much harder than it is, if that's possible.
Truth be told I had a couple of BL's and that helped. I emptied the shelf and took them all the way out to the recycling bin where they will stay until next week when the recycling truck comes. In theory they are not thrown out until that time. I still felt a twinge of guilt, like he will be mad at me, upset that they are not there. This feeling comes as a surprise, this feeling hasn't been around much, it is awakened by the action of tossing something that was Chris'. Something that he had not touched for at least 3 years, but his nonetheless.
Braver and brazened I turn to the bookshelf. More home improvement magazines and books. It is the shelving unit that contains his ashes.Hallowed ground. Still there are so may books on kitchen remodeling, will I ever need these in my lifetime? Or if he comes back he won't be here doing the kitchen again will he? I list a few on Amazon, none of the ones with the post it notes though I save those. The ones we picked out together I kept, the ones he bought that don't register are fair game. Out of one whole shelf I get rid of half. I make room for his ashes so they aren't crowded. I turn the bookcase around so it faces the entrance more so I can see his ashes while I watch tv. It comforts me somehow. I don't think he would mind, at least that is what I tell myself.

Ice princess.

Group today. Toward the end Stephanie asked me how I was doing. Immediately thought of a picture I had found on Google. I shows a SUV not unlike mine completely encased in ice. Unmovable. That is how I feel. The landscape inside me is frozen, barren hard as the winter ground. It started when it started to sink in that Chris is not coming back. I am losing that feeling of something might happen to change things. The realization seeps into my brain like ice water, filling every crevice and crack in my brain. It is a cold realization, so cold like nothing I have ever felt. It seeps down inside the walls of my body immobilizing me, freezing me. The truth frozen solid, unshakable, unable to be broken. The cold hard facts. Death is cold, reality is often seen as harsh, as in cold harsh light of day. I see it now, for what it is. A barren white tundra represents my future. It is no wonder I crawl into bed every chance I get. My core is frozen with he knowledge that this is it.
I hate the winter. I hate this.

slice me open and while you are at it cut out my heart

I met with the surgeon about my hip and failed injection. He was brusk ( as all orthopds are) and gave me two brochures, one for the resurfacing (which he said wouldn't be a good idea) and a total hip (which recommends) I was told to read the brochures and pick a procedure and to call the scheduler to book it (why don't I do the surgery myself as well?).
I know that ortho's are assholes. But I couldn't have felt less heard or cared for. I left in tears. Cried all the way the home. The thought of this major surgery and rehab is overwhelming. Who will help me? Who will be in the hospital with me? I was with Chris for all of his surgeries, spent every hospital night with him in his room. What do I get? nothing. a nursing home probably. Wonderful.

lisa, lunch and lattes

I met Lisa, one of the young widows from my group. She and I get along very well. I remember the first time I met her during the hospice support group. She mentioned her husband was on Sutnet, my ears perked up that was the drug that had the most therapeutic benefit for Chris. I knew it had other uses, but it was something to actually say it out loud. I felt an affinity with her immediately.
We met half way between our homes (which are 40 minutes apart). She had suggested a Mexican restaurant and we met there. She was little late and we chuckled about that (she was a late attendee to the group by design). We sat down and chatted for a while before ordering. We have an easy rapport and mostly talked about our loss and where we were at. After lunch she suggested a trip oer to Panera for coffee and more conversation. I was glad, it felt so relieving to just be with someone who just "gets it". Even though no two widows experiences are the same, she is certainly closer to understanding and sharing then someone else (like all those people that share that they lost their cat last year so they understand my grief....)

Bed the ultimate reward

It seems like I can't get anything done, unless I reward myself with more supine time on the tempurpedic. Empty the dishwasher- 10 back to bed minutes. Fold the laundry 5 more minutes. Take a shower (yes I have to bribe myself to do this, back to bed in my terry robe to wait til I am dry. I am addicted to the bed the way I was addicted to American Idol. It is the key motivator in my life. I bring my big lap top with me to pay bills and manage my emails and work stuff. I can't sit at the desk anymore, everything is done in bed. I eat all meals in bed, read and watch TV in bed, it is my epicenter. The rest of the house does not appeal to me. I did get up and travel to the back room to watch AI last night partly out of guilt, partly for the bigger picture. Yes I am addicted to my bed. Or is it a prison that I willlingly lock myself into?

MLK day

a day off, but not for me,I scheduled 3 things today. YOGA, a client and therapy.There is a raging snowstorm outside. I stay in bed all morning wondering if YOGA is cancelled (this class was free in honor of MLK). Finally I call. It is on. I dress, coat, boots, scarf and trudge to the car. I am not plowed yet but the 4 WD allows me to drive easily over the bridge to the YOGA place. I forget my water and it is hot YOGA I struggle through it, modifying many of the poses. The mediatation at the end is guided and doesn't make me cry about Chris (no mention of sending light to someone or picturing a loved one). Next up my client, she is depressed (who isn't) and I decide to commiserate with her, instead of offering solutions to her depression, sleep better, move more, take better care of herself. I just let her vent and when she asks for input I tell her I am sorry she is in a tough place.I leave there and go to my therapsit appointment. We talk about my daily actiivities, YOGA, work. I tell her about the intutive and the guilt about spending 400 bucks on a useless reading. I struggle with her suggestion that I should get a cleaning lady to help with the house work I can't do because of my hip. I tell her I will think about it.
When I get home I am suddenly tired, I don't want lunch or anything to drink or snack on.It is 2 o clock in the afternoon. the bed calls me. I lie down and attempt to read. I grow sleepy and decide to give in to the overwhlming fatigue. I sleep until 6:30 and when I wake up I think it is 6:30 in the am.I am disoreintated, for a moment I can't figure out what time it is really, what day it is. The only thing I do know is that I am alonein the bed and that it sucks.

What Do You Want From Me?

Adam's new video What do you Want From Me came out yesterday. In it he wanders around his home going from room to room, he acts upset, depressed. It looks familiar.
Thursday night I did the same, I wanted to write, but couldn't get out of my own way. Couldn't surf, or read, just plunked down in front of the TV. Watched some horrible Lifetime movie. Comatose outside, numb inside. I always turn Chris' chair which is next to the couch around to face the TV. As if his ghost could sit there.I feel so very alone, and yet have so many friends that want to be with me. Just not tonight. the phone which usually rings at least three times a night is eerily silent. The house is completely dark, except for the glow from the 65 inch magnet I am drawn to.
Is TV an excuse? Is it better than just sitting alone in a dark house. I am not really watching the movie I might as well have the TV off. But my "always must be productive personality" prevents that I guess.
What am I supposed to be doing? What do you want from me? Move on? Pretend my marriage never happened, so I don't have grieve that my wonderful life is over? Don't be angry that I don't deserve a modicum of contentment in this life? What am I supposed to do now? Live a life? It seems so useless, work home sleep, work home sleep, I hardly do anything else. Of course 60 hours a week doesn't leave much else. Still there are unharvested hours. 8 to 10 every night. 6 to 7:30 every morning. All day Sunday. Maybe that's something to work on, not working so much. An oxy moron.
Maybe I will just wear out and stop like a robot with a dead battery, like a wife with a dead heart.

Medical Intuitive

I consulted with a medical intuitive, at Laurie's (my friend who is Yoga/alternative guru)insistence. She called Dr.Schultz (yes she is a real MD who worked with Oprah and Dr. Oz) and handed me the phone.I was intrigued and am so desperate to get rid of the physical pain (so I can concentrate on the psychic pain???).
I had my consultation last night. She began by saying that my physical maladies were related to all the care physical, emotional and psychological, that I had poured into Chris. My hips hurt because they buckled under the burden of the cancer caring. She talked about choices I had made with respect to my relationships. ( My last three romantic relationships involved men that experienced cancer- Max's dad has prostate cancer (in remission), the man I was with before Chris, died from pancreatic cancer and Chris. I joked that I was like the black widow, fall in love with me and die.....she said that because of my chaotic childhood that I was likely and intuitive and that sensing somehow that these men would need care, I hook up with them. Even before they are aware of anything. (Boy that match.com is amazing.) Not sure if I buy this,however I have wondered why the last three big relationships in my life ended with cancer. I figured anyone stupid enough to fall in love with me would die from trying to penetrate my cold hard cancer (astrological sign----coincidence?) heart.
Something to think about. She told me to stop reading my grief books and to start working on my intuitive powers. (I know what you are thinking right now......what alot of bunk.....see I am intuitive!!)
She also recommended glucosime (duh) and Sam e. And she said I would probably need hip surgery. Okie dokie thanks !

AI Season 9

Another season of American Idol tonight. ~sigh~
It was a welcome diversion (as it was always was for Chris and I). Winter, holidays over, something to get us through. And how how it got me through the dark days of April and May. there would never be another Adam, though, so why watch? What else to do? I would just watch Lifetime Movie Network or channel surf, why not allow my self another AI? After all Donna watches it and we used to chat about it, it was a nice connection. She was the one who actually started Chris and I wathcing it, she has watched all 9 seasons(and is a devout ---hard swallow---Claymate).
I called Donna, before the show. She was out to dinner with the "JC Penney girls".
She would be home in time, but cut our conversation short when she arrived home. She did tell me that she and Darryl (Jennifer's widower) and the girls had lunch Sunday, Darryl was sad (belying his "I'll be just fine" on Jenn's funeral day). He yelled at the kids at the restaurant because they were acting up. Donna wishes the kids would behave but I think it is a good sign that they are acting up, acting normal.
Anyway I missed the connection with her, and plan to call her again.
I settle in on the couch. No candles lit just me and Aurora on the couch.
I start watching a half hour later using the DVR to buzz through the commericals. It felt weird, watching it without Chris. For the last few years (since we stopped wathcing Survivor), this was our show, that we actually watched together. Maybe it was the music, or just the comic relief. But he is not here. I turn his chair around so it faces the TV. I pretend that he says "This is American Idol" with Ryan. It doesn't work. I am profoundly sad but cannot cry. I watch the show, I thought someone (Sharon? Donna?) would call me......no one does. One guy from Boston who kicked cancer sings Feeling Good (when Adam sang it I thought it was a message that Chris was happy and in a better place. Adam sang from a pink stairway--Chris' mom's favorite anti cancer color---another Chris link). Is it weird that the cancer survivor is singing the Adam Cancer song?
Is it a sign? Can I watch tomorrow night?

Sad Sunday

I spent today working on my RFR. It kept me distracted, but my hip pain kept focused on the fact that nothing seems to be helping. 5 days after the cortisone injection no relief.I start crying at my desk, exhausted from the pain and just tired of it all. Tired of working so much, tired of limping around and hurting everytime I move, tired of the oneness of this widowed life. I have no one to share this with. I cared for Chris for years and now I am left alone to face whatever....surgery, more pain and an uncertain future. I don't feel like I want to die, that feeling is less and less, it just so overwhelming to be totally on my own for the first time in 30 years.
I concede to the pain and take 2 percocets. It makes me tired (usually it has no effect) I decide to lie down. I have to call Lindsey first, I was to join the Shrayers et all to watch the sinking Patriots. I call, Kevin answers, I beg off, he understands. I sink into bed......exhausted, it is 1 pm, the day is sunny. I close the shutters that Chris put in for me; to finish the Caribbean themed bedroom. I remember the day he finished them (they were a lot of trouble to install, he had to customize them... and spent so much time getting them right). I had wanted them for so long, I hate curtains and blinds and we had none in the house, but something was needed in the bedroom to cut the light and spare the boatyard across the street from any peep shows while we were dressing.
The day he finished them*
I remember it longingly and start to cry, from the memories, from the pain.....the physical pain and the emotional pain co mingle. They mirror each other, like an infinity mirror. It is impossible to see which one is the beginning. Which one is the catalyst for the other. They reflect each other and intensify each other. back and forth back and forth, hip, head, heart, hip, head, heart, throbbing hurting aching and screaming for attention.
I fall into bed, and pass out quickly, I must have been so overwhelmed it is as if my mind just shuts down, like the kill switch on a computer.
Two and a half hours later I wake up. It is almost 4 PM. The waning sunlight strains through the shutters. I cannot believe I slept this long. Aurora was with me the whole time snoring and radiating heat.
I am not sure what to do, check the Pats score? Call someone? I am slightly disorientated. i wish I was disoriented enough to think that my life was back, some widows have that I don't. The awake and they forget that their husband is dead just for a few moments in the morning. How delicious that would be, just to have a few fractions of a minute of relief, even delusional relief. But I am not granted this. I struggle out of bed and head to the back room, Chris' media room. I have simply moved from bed to couch. I watch mindless TV. LifeTime of course. The channel for those with no life. I sit there for hours in a stupor, watching a movie I had saved on the DVR. It is crap. But there is nothing else right now.Tthe movie ends and I limp back to bed. I can't believe that I can fall asleep again, but do. Unable to face the rest of the day, but not wanting the next one to begin.
I am exhausted from doing nothing but fighting the throbbing hip and aching heart. It is like a full time job. n top of my already overflowing schedule. But this is like spilled coffee on a calendar. It seeps into every unused space and fills it up. It surrounds the scheduled time and seeps into other commitments. COloring them with the darkness of of the reality. It is everywhere inescapbale. It spreads from the workday into the night over to the weekend and into the to do list. There is no space anywhere in the day that it cannot reach. No wonder i like to sleep, I never put that in my calendar, maybe that's where I can hide from the river of sorrow.

sleepwalker

If anyone ever wonders why Adam's voice calms me, centers me and makes be capable
of breathing they should just listen to this song.
I didn't like it all at first the opening is too "Moby". The lyrics and Adam in is his low register, make me able to to just live another day. I wish Chris had heard


I saw a picture of you......I carry it everywhere
Hanging in an empty hallway
I heard a voice that I knew.............The video at Christmas
And I couldn't walk away
It took me back to the end ..........when you died
Of everything
I taste it all I taste it all
The tears again...............the tears never stop.


Outside the rain's fallin' down..........just like I told Stephanie, if I start I will never stop........
There's not a drop that hits me.........all the tears are outside the therapist office, non of themhit me but i can see them......
Scream at the sky but no sound.........I scream for you all the time in the drk, cold house, you never answer
Is leavin' my lips
It's like I can't even feel
After the way you touched me
I'm not asleep but I'm not awake
After the way you loved me
Chris I will never be the same after you loved me because you did it so perfectly. I am not asleep, but I am not awake. I am not dead but I am not alive after you died


I can't turn this around....... I can't change that you are dead
I keep running into walls that I can't break down...........running into walls, losing thigs, running red lights.....
I said I just wander around........all night long
With my eyes wide shut because of you
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker

Let me out of this dream ............I think they call it a nightmare

Everywhere that I go
I see another memory...............uh huh every room in the house
And all the places we used to know..........cruises, P town, NYC
They're always there to haunt me
I walk around and I feel so lost and lonely
You're everything that I want
But you don't want me

I can't turn this around
I keep running into walls that I can't break down
I said I just wander around
With my eyes wide shut because of you
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker

Let me out of this dream, dream
Let me out of this dream

I can't turn this around
I keep running into walls that I can't break down
I said I just wander around
With my eyes wide shut because of you
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker
I'm a sleepwalker walker walker

Let me out of this dream

I am so drunk....and it is only 5:21

I skipped the gym and came home, to check some email replies from the flurry of grant related emails I sent out yesterday. Got one from Andrea and Donna( my financial planner) which triggered me to check to see how all the big transfers went. I of course have to get out the secret password book to get access to ETRADE. I noticed an AOL account of Chris' that I never noticed before. Was that tied to his netscape, gmail account? Not sure. check the Fidelity and log on to the AOL account. It is still active. There are 3500 emails recent up today. I go to the sent folder there are almost 3000 emails sent by Chris .....to me, to Lindsey to Gail, to Lynne and many others. Many around my birthday party, thanks yous to folks for coming to his party (oh so David Goudreau gave him the Klaus Nomi DVD!!!)
I read for an hour, it was like hearing his voice, his personality and humor and just him came through. Wasn't it only 2 days ago I was crying in bed saying send me an email, and now I have thousands to read.
Energy? Chris?
It is so heady to read them (hence the "drunkenness"). It is like found treasure, a winning lottery ticket,or as Adam says "if I had you life would be a party it would be ecsacy"

Big Blogger

Last Sunday's entry was "picked" up by My employer's meta crawling computer that searches for all mentions of BH (I don't dare type it here AGAIN!) It is a hospital in the town I live in.
Well the HR director read the blog and called my boss' boss to see if I was ok. She in turn called my boss to see if I was suicidal (why did Adam Lambert retire??)Well he was concerned enough to read the blog......long story short I got a little creeped out....my writing is a no holds barred, take no prisoners style (but then you knew that)
I decided that since I didn't want those in charge of my paychecks read the mad ventings of a grief stricken widow (did you catch the entry where I set myself on fire in front of HES??) and I don't want to edit my self or my feelings. So I have now changed it to invite only.
and aren't you lucky?
That said if you are reading this you have been invited....so congratulations!
The rest of you will have to wait until I am on the NY Times Best Seller List.

January 3rd

January 3rd.
worked all day at the Big House (Beverly Hospital). I cried the whole
way to work in the car. It was snowing and blowing and driving
conditions were hellish. I felt cold, wet (from brushing off my car)
and alone. It was so white it was like being in a snow globe, nothing
but snow swirling around me. I could only drive about 10 miles an
hour.....no matter, I am the only one on the road. Still feeling sorry
for myself, I am sobbing and driving with no visibility from either
side of the windshield ; on the outside because of the snow and on
the inside because of the tears flowing from my eyes. Pathetic. How
can I go to work like this? I want to turn around so bad. Turn around
and go home and do what? Cry? Anesthetizes my self as soon as it is the
cocktail hour? What? I inch along crying and crying. No thoughts just
tears. I turn on the CD player (Adam is in it of course).
If I had you is playing.

So I got my boots on, (SNOW BOOTS)
got the right amount of leather (just the gloves.....)
And I'm doing me up with a black colour liner (no make up for me---no
energy to even shower today)
And I'm working my strut but I know it don't matter (more like a limp
with the arthritic hip)
All we need in this world is some love (I need love but my love is dead...)
There's a thin line between the dark side and the light side baby
(there's a thin line between my depression and my desire to
die)
It's a struggle gotta rumble tryin' to find it (You got that part
right,Adam, this is a struggle of gargantuan proportions)

But if I had you, that would be the only thing I'd ever need (Chris Chris Chris)
Yeah if I had you, then money fame and fortune never could compete
(Chris I promise I will quit all my jobs like you wanted me too..)
If I had you, life would be a party it'd be ecstasy (and this pain
would be gone....)
Yeah if I had you
The song is up beat but the lyrics make me cry. If only I could have
Chris, why was he taken, what the fuck did I do in this life or a
previous life to deserve this hell? What am I atoning for?

I am driving so slowly now 2 cars pass me. I can't see,I pull over, at
this rate I won't make it to work until lunch time. I try to get myself
together.I take a swig of some half frozen orange soda left in the car
from a home visit last week. Pathetic.

Back on the road, the next song is : Pick you up

Jumpin’ out the window (Wouldn't I Love TO??)
Movin’ on, groovin’ on
Which way will the wind blow? (Oh it is blowing all around me and it is Frightening)
We can’t be wrong, so say ’solong’ (were we wrong to think we could beat this cancer and now we have to say so long to our life?)
I’mma pick you up, I’mma pick you up (Oh Adam you always do but you better
What’re you tryin’ to say to me?
Catch the train out to what you’re tryin’ to do
Are you gonna play with me?

All my life, I’ve been waiting (all my life I waited for someone like you, Chris)
Pass my time, procrastinating now (wasn't interested in any one or getting serious)
It’s a trip on a flip (life with you was a trip like I had never even imagined)
And flash right through the scene
Can’t you see what I mean?

Breaking through the boundaries (of my life with you??)
Rollin’ on, strollin’ on (trying just to get by..)
They won’t ever find me (if I ever end up getting that gun...)
And after all, we’ll have a ball (yes Chris, you and did have a ball, but now Cinderella is it ver)
I’mma pick you up, I’mma pick u up (I know I will get through this I just don't know why I care)
We’re gonna see where we can go (we had so many places to go..)
This is how I live, this is what I give I love alone, I give so much every day...)
And you’re the one I want to know (CHRIS!!!)

Tiny minded two-tone suckers (Stop asking me how I am, if you knew mw you would know)
Same old faces make me shudder (I need to get outta her)
Countless times I’ve screamed ‘oh brother!’ (I have screamed oh CHRIS)
Where are you? I need someone to be my lover (SO OBVIOUS!)


Crying crying crying,,,,,, this whole song is so up and down, the end is a searing vocal that goes on and on not his highest but one of those endless Adam things, and then he laughs.....I am crying and he is laughing and he makes me chuckle, just in time I pull into the parking lot.....

January 2nd Plowing all night

I can't sleep, not sure if it is the plows scraping the pavement or my tears scraping my cheeks. I am cryng and begging/praying. I just want one more night with you, one more conversation. please please please. It hurts so much I am crying so much. and then it hits me today is Janaury 2nd, he died on April 2nd, 9 months ago. I am having a reaction to the date perhaps? I can't belive I am so stupid to have not recognized this, I caution my clients all the time about these kinds of things.
That knowledge doesn't make it any easier. I still want what I want.
As Trent says "I only want what I can never have".

January 2nd Winter Wonderment

It is snowing has been all day. I worked all day at the hospital. after work i visited my ex brother in law John. I made him beef stroganoff and we (and Max) exchanged Christmas gifts. I wanted it this way instead of quick drop and grab. I haven't seen him in awhile, he is handicapped and home bound. It was good to see him and just not be so rushed.
When we got home it was nearly bed time, I got ready for bed and pulled back the covers. It occurred to me as I sank into the Tempurpedic how everything in the bedroom was picked out by Chris, that extrapolated to the house. I mentally walked through the house, picturing each room, every piece of furniture, every lamp, every picture. There is nothing here of my former life before Chris. Not a lamp, a piece of art, an end table, bed or chair. All the furniture was either his or something we bought as a couple. The living room, all his from Framingham apartment. The bedroom, bought together at Workbench, the media room, bought in Cambridge, the kitchen, all Ikea. Max's two bedrooms all new. Even the walls of my house,formerly paneled, now wall boarded. All the windows and doors are new replaced by hand by Chris. Every light fixture, every light switch, all the plumbing it was as if the the house was changed from the inside, from the two by fours to the furniture.
Was that why he was in my life, to change what I couldn't? I start to cry,I want to ask him.I rollover onto the painful hip, I think I feel him which makes me cry more. Is he here in bed with me? Why can't I know for sure? I ask him are you here? I think/hear/imagine he says yes. How can I be sure? I need a sign. The signs are all around you he says.I need something BIG; send me an email!!! It doesn't work like that he says it is energy...I am energy. I am sobbing now, is this real? am I hallucinating, or making this up, do I want it so bad that it is a figment of my imagination?
Was Adam on the radio you(the most recent "sign" I can think of) Is it the snow?
What. Just pay attention, I imagine/hear. But I want you really hear,I need to talk to you. I don't want to be alone, I am frightened to be on my own, I make bad decisions and need you to guide me......crying very badly now, no answer.
Did I scare him away, are the tears too much negative energy, is he helpless to make me feel better so he abandons me?
I wish I want to understand this. But I can't. All I can do is wail right now and feel sorry for myself.

New Years Day

I wake up late despite not drinking or staying up late. Aurora too is sleeping in.I have planned to do a YOGA class with a friend in an hour as well as start a diet with yet another friend (this is why I have minions).
I make some coffee and go off to the YOGA class.It is hot-95 degrees, it was not advertised as Birkhram YOGA but it is hot I and not sure about it, It is hard to breathe,I feel shaky. Bev (my friend) seems ok. It is a tough class. I have to modify many things because I am so out of shape but mostly for the arthritic hip. I actually make it through the entire class, and am grateful to make it to the end.
I noticed a woman from my support group is there. She is standing next to some uber yoga guy that she seems to know, He is shirtless and ripped;he can do hand stands and head stands and I think he is a show off (but I if could do those things I would be doing them just as he is).
I manage to make it to the end. There is a mediation piece. We are to thnk of someone we love. Of course Chris comes to mind. I see his face,I start to cry. Now picture a sun warm and glowing, Chris on the deck, Chris and I in the Caribbean, Chris and I in P town, so many suns. stay focused on the sun she says, I can't all I can see is Chris. Now picture the moon, the coolness around it. Aw no pictures of Chris come to mind. the tears slow. Thank god everyone's eyes are closed. Even if somone peeked, my tears could be mistaken for sweat in this overheated room that is now my meditative hell. Keep focusing on the moon, all I can focus on is getting out of here and getting home to shower......
I really try to avoid the group member I know after the class I wait for her to put her stuff away, I turn to the wall. She looks like she comes here alot (she has the good YOGA clothes(I have my Wentworth Hockey T shirt on---not exactly LuLu Lemon.
I manage to escape seeing her (what am I afraid of, that this is her YOGA place and I will be banished because we are in therapy together?. she exits the studio, and I go to get my coat, she is of course in the coat room, I go to the bathroom and wait until I think she has had enough time to get her coat ect. I leave the bathroom and of course walk right into her.She is gracious and hugs me so unexpected...what are the rules here? Is it ok to acknowledge? what if my friend asks who she is? She asks me if I was here the whole time (in class) I say yes but wasn't sure if it was her at first. I was in the back (where the newbies try to hide). She introduces me to uber yoga guy, it is her brother in law. She says that she looks forward to seeing me tomorrow! WE don't have group tomorrow. (it's in PDA as 1/9/10). I am horrified that I am scheduled to work. I had checked and double checked to make sure it was an "off Saturday" I am pissed that I screwed this up. I can't get out of working, I feel stupid and foolish. She doesn't seem to think it is a big deal to miss, and tells me she will tell everyone. I will email the therapist, but still I feel like an idiot, another stupid mistake, along with lost car keys, lost check book, what is happening. Am I losing it again? I have to spend the day writing a grant, should I even bother,I can't seem to get it together mentally at all sometimes.
I have lost the serenity from the class. What was warm and peaceful has turned into cold and clammy. I just want to go home and see how I made this mistake.