I miss him. It’s been almost a year since I touched him. I feel alone. Because I am. I feel overburdened. Because I am. I’m angry, because I was powerless to help him. It’s sneaking up on me like an enormous panic attack, and I’m powerless to stop it. I feel it in my chest, in my heart, in the way that it hurts to breathe. In the way that it strangles me, and hurts my throat. I hold my breath. I beg it to stop. I hate that I can’t control it. Why? Why does the calendar have control over me? I feel myself losing it. Feel myself going back to how I was, right after. Those first few months. When I looked past everyone, and couldn’t listen or comprehend anything anyone said. People spoke to me, and I just stared at them, blankly. Because I was in a place where no one I knew had ever been. And I’m there again. I take a step closer to it each day. I’m rageful, and full of hate. My heart makes weird palpitations, and I worry I will die and leave my precious babies orphaned. I walk past a photo. It’s one of the only two photos we have of our whole complete family. It says ‘family’ on the frame. I’m powerless to stop myself from slinging it across the room. Smashing it to smithereens. It feels good. I pray that when I turn it over, the glass has poked and ruined his face. It has. His mouth is white. Because he is a liar. Because everything he did was a lie. It was all a lie. My whole life was a lie. Even my babies are bastards.
In 25 days it is D-Day. I know that if I get it all out now, that the blow will be softened that day. I can’t look at the clock at 5:08. 5:08 is when he sent the suicide note to the printer. It’s the only solid time I have. The rest is a guess. I hold onto something my therapist said a long time ago. That the lows don’t undo all the progress you’ve made. That when the lows are over, you pick up right back where you left off. I force myself to admit that I’ve come a long way. That I even surprised myself. Exceeded even my own expectations. I remind myself who I am. The strongest person I know. That it’s good to be me. It feels like a lie.