July 7, 2012

Day 366

We returned home yesterday.  I always hate leaving the beach.  I feel as though I leave a part of my soul there.  I watch my boys, how they love the water, how they instantly relax in the ocean, and it feels good knowing we are creating memories of a beautiful summer.  We have been so happy this summer.  We have stayed busy.  We haven’t had many boring days at all.  Just love.  A lot of damn love.  I’m not kidding.  I’m so proud of these kids.  These kids who have grown up too fast.  These kids who have had to process way too much. 

There’s a photo of Dave and middle darling that was the last picture taken of him.  They were at swim lessons, and middle darling had just been stung by a wasp.  He was throwing a hellacious fit, but Dave managed to calm him down and my mother in law snapped a photo while they were both making a funny face for the camera.  I look at it, and I feel like he was just here.  It doesn’t seem like he’s dead.  The baby came across it today, and commented on it.  I asked him if he remembered daddy.  He said, “Yes, but when is daddy coming back?”  I sunk down to my knees and cried.  “Baby….Daddy can’t ever come back, when you die your body dies and you can’t come back ever again.”  The realization hit him really hard.  He curled up in my lap and cried for a long time, sobbing, “I want my daddy.” 

“Oh my sweet precious angel baby, if daddy could come back, he would, just to be with you.  He loves you so much.”  Why?  Why on this day?  I haven’t focused too much on his grief, because we really didn’t think he understood much.  But the vibe has been present this week, no matter that I didn’t mention anything to any of them.  The brain is a mysterious organ, the world a mysterious place, and somehow they knew.  Middle darling wore a rosary around his neck for a couple of days.  He offered no explanation.  It was Dave’s, he just wanted to wear it, and I wasn’t about to say no. 

When we walked back into the house today, I felt a sense of peace.  It’s always good to be home.  And it’s always good to be loaded up on klonopin when your life is a surreal piece of shit motherfucker.  We didn’t sleep here on July 5th last year.  My family wouldn’t let us.  I remember texting Dave a picture of the baby when I finally got him to sleep that night.  I knew he wasn’t alive to get it, but texting your spouse is such a habit.  “Look at this precious baby.  How are we going to live without you?  Please help us.”  When we came home the next day, I marched straight into the garage.  I was overcome by the smell of blood, even though it was all cleaned up and tidy.  I could see where they had scrubbed the floor.  I could smell him.  I could smell the blood.  The chaos, the trauma still lingered in the air.  My husband was dead and this was for real.

I always hold up so great under pressure, and then crash when it’s over.  Yesterday was no different.  The kids watched a movie and fell asleep from exhaustion, and I wandered downstairs to the patio alone.  I sat down right where I sat so many times in the beginning.  Where I kicked and screamed and cried so hard.  It felt like day 2 again, instead of day 366.  The pain was intense.  It was like I hadn’t left that spot in a year.  This is what happens when you fight it.  When you refuse for it to be true.  When you refuse to accept it in your mind.  When you wish too hard for it to not be real.  Haven’t I learned anything in 366 days?  “Show yourself to me,” I pleaded.  “I need you.  Push me forward.  Please.  Make good things happen.”  A thunderstorm moved in and I could smell the rain.  I looked up and could see the clouds had formed what I imagined to be the shape of an angel.  Then the whole sky was a brilliant white, and the rain came down hard.  I took advantage of the thunder and lightning to disguise my kicking and screaming and writhing.  I kept telling myself I wasn’t starting over, only that this demon needed to be expelled.  I held it together beautifully the last few days, this was required.


  1. I love you and thank you for this.. you have brought me to tears and i work for 911 emergency... i dont get shaken up.. but whenever i read your words... huge elephant tears

  2. One night, quite out of the blue, my still, small voice told me, "You're going about this the right way." And that's how I feel about you and your blog. You're doing it exactly right. Grief is a lot of things, but the most surprising thing it is is clarifying. I am really happy this blog exists. Thank you.

  3. I kept thinking that NOW you can say "It" has been more than a year, OVER a Year like a whole new time table could commence. There will never be another 1st anniversary to wait out. You did the right thing by taking the kids! It does make you wonder how much can the youngest darling remember since his ability to form memories was just starting to develop...

  4. You made it a year. Now, comes the sneaky part. Sadly, it comes and creeps up on you when you just think it will be alright. I fucking hate it!! A quarter of a century has passed, and yet a trigger can happen and it whisks me right back there. You are a wonderful Mutha, and I hope I have been, too. I just wish the monster wasn't waiting behind me, ready to jump out.
    Sigh. And so it goes. xx

  5. Continue to push forward, you have made through the first year. Sometimes the first year are the hardest to overcome. Something tells me that you are a fighter and will continue to carry on.
    Be strong for your children and carry on with your blog, it's theraputic for the soul in times like this. My heart felt condolences to you and your family.

  6. Life does get easier & there will be moments you forget. It's been 10 years since my husband committed suicide. I distinctly remember the first time I didn't go into a new depression on the anniversary date. I was shopping with my sister - having a great time. Then I got a well meaning phone call from my sister-in-law saying "I'm thinking of you and praying today" - and my day went staight to Hell... I still miss all the wonderful parts of the man I loved. But I am now in a place where thoughts of him do not dominate my daily life. There is no right or wrong way to get thru this... just take it one day at a time... sometimes one minute at a time even...

  7. As a RN working with suicidal adults, your posts have given me a new attitude about working with patients .... not that there was anything wrong with my old, serious, attitude ... but I have stepped up my intensity of seriousness!
    This line "The brain is a mysterious organ, the world a mysterious place..." says it all. Little do we know what goes on in someones mind, or they ours. Thanks, js3

  8. Dear MW, I have my email set up so that all your posts
    come to me. Even if you delete them I get them. I can
    understand completely why you deleted that one,
    but I could not leave you thinking your heart was not
    heard. Mostly because I understand completely. I have
    these kinds of hurts in my life also. I will not say
    anything about the content of that post since it was
    deleted for a reason. I will say however, that I have
    been there. There are times when my honesty is too honest
    for the flawed people in my life to handle. The truths
    are no less true. I delete posts like you do. Mostly
    because even though they are true, I am kinder than the
    truth is, even if I want to shake my fist and bang my
    truth into 10 million pieces. I wanted to acknowledge
    your post. Sometimes when people say mean things
    it is the fact that someone heard you scream
    that makes all the difference.

    Oh, and one other thing, that comment that hurt you..
    it was wrong and always will be. "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" I do not
    know what your time and purpose is, but I know it is taking you
    somewhere important.

    I heard this song this week and it brought me to tears because it
    made me feel things beyond explaining.

    I am posting it in hopes you will get the message it
    carries as well.

  9. I read the post about Rosetta Stone and shoes...then I LOLd at the ad at the top of this page. (I took a screen shot, just in case it changes).


    I love the honesty of your blog. My dad has been gone 11 years and I still can't stand the word "suicide" because of all that it implies.

    Thank you for sharing with us.

  10. Keep pushing... loving reading this blog, rooting from you from the east coast

  11. Don't post this unless your really crazy like me. I tried Kolopin, but im on Prozac for depression, tegretol for mood stabilizers, xanax for stress, vicodin and soma for pain(just pain) and a slew of diagnosis. my head has a whole team of comedians running it...i just want my bud. it does everything, and its natural. i wish i could just stop taking pills and just smoke weed. Im 39, mother of 5 including twins. ive been wanting to start writing blog/book/ whatever since i was little. i was always afraid people would find out how crazy i really was. i worked accounting, raised kids, oldest in college and im thinking...hey this chick is really saying what most of us do think. istarted reading a few days ago and im here. darn chores keep getting in the way. i want to write, i want to speak my mind in a way that people can relate and understand instead of just assuming im stupid because im "crazy"...ya bitches, my crazy iq is 140 and im on social security now because my mind and body won't allow me out into the general public. so what now? well, right now im going to smoke a joint...cant wait to get to "today" on your blog