June 1, 2012

Tequila Sunrise


Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary.  I keep waiting for this wave of sadness to wash over me.  It hasn’t so far.  I don’t know why I’m not feeling sad anymore.  Sometimes I get nervous that maybe I’m not really ‘dealing with this’ and it’s all going to bite me in the ass years down the line.  I have learned how to expertly pretend this never happened.  I guess that isn’t really true.  It’s just that I’ve done all the heavy grieving I can do, for now.  What else is there to say?  This is my life, it’s not the one I ordered, but I gotta live it.  Today I was in and out of the garage a couple times, and upon entering for the second time, I realized that the first time I went in, I didn’t ‘think about it.’  This is huge.  Fucking huge.  This has never happened.  It sort of backfired, though.  Because after I realized it, I got this weird feeling.  Like he was really slipping away.  For real.  I walked over to the bottle of rum we found stashed in the garage after he died.  It was half empty when I found it.  This is kind of funny, but every time I had to go into the garage, I took a big gulp.  I did that until it was empty.  I actually learned to accept the nasty, burn-y taste of it, and realized that he must have learned to accept it and probably even like it years ago.  I was sad when it was gone.  I felt it was just fitting to reward myself with a good shot every time I had to go in there.  Plus I knew his lips had been on it, his spit was probably in there too.  I stared at it today.  The bottle is mostly empty, maybe a tiny drop or two left, which I couldn’t bring myself to empty.  Perhaps I should store the half empty bottle of Patron I have down there.  Then I could keep being rewarded with some ridiculousness when I have to go in there. 

This reminds me of something funny.  Our neighbors stayed for Hurricane Katrina, they didn’t evacuate.  The city was largely deserted, very few people stayed, especially in this 'hood.  They were heavy drinkers at the time.  When the water started coming up, they managed to swipe a canoe from another neighbor.  Once the water was about to be over their heads in the house, they hopped into the canoe.  Over the next day or so, they were in shock, no doubt, traumatized and drunk off their asses.  They scavenged for supplies.  She casually said to me one day much later, “Did you know that almost everyone has a half empty bottle of tequila in their house?”  Good to know. 



4 comments:

  1. I will do a shot for tomorrow night! I know I don't know you personally but I am proud of you! I know it's hard to keep it together but you have kept your kids 1st through all this and I love that! You know what...I'll do 2 shots for you!

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  2. you're doing great. keep living your life and loving your kids

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  3. I didn't see this post on FB (like I wanted to) because of their new stupid policy of only showing page posts to 'active' fans. (I thought I was active!)

    Anyway, I will take a belated shot in your honor.

    I sent a message to FB feedback, not that they will care... but maybe if enough of us send similar messages, they'll start to care or at least be annoyed by us.

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  4. Your neighbor is clearly a pessimist...I would have gone looking for half-full bottles of tequilla!

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