August 8, 2012
Choosing the Truth
I’m seriously ready for school and my boys are excited too. I haven’t a clue what the heck I’m going to do to keep busy while I pretend to look for a job, but I’m good at making lists, even though I never scratch a fucking thing off of them. I mean seriously, how many years can “do taxes” be on your list. I need to quit being a loser. I will crank the music up so loud and eat twix for lunch. I will take hour long baths without getting out soaking wet to wipe someone’s ass. I will float in the pool and go to the store by myself. I will just be in amazement at the silence for a full two weeks. I think during the entire summer I was home alone 2 times by myself. Two facking times. Does anyone even get how insane that is?
I would love to paint everything. I hate painting and have to try very hard to be good at it because I’m impatient and messy. But I shouldn’t be paying people to do something I can do. I would love a pretty yellow to brighten up my kitchen. I saw a pretty comforter in the mall the other day….maybe I should get some new bedding. It would be sheets and comforters that Dave never slept on. Not sure how I feel about that, except right now I feel insanely bored with everything and need to shake it up hard. Plus one day I might invite someone to the love shack and it’ll be all weird and ruined if it’s on these same sheets.
One of Dave’s friends emailed me today and mentioned how he wants to talk to the boys about Dave, telling them all the things he loved about their dad. Instead of getting a warm and fuzzy feeling over this, all I could think is that it’s not especially helpful to hear about how great Dave used to be. What good does that do us now? All my kids know is the Dave we had since they were born, and in the end the memories just seem worse and worse. I turn into more and more of an asshole. I hate him more and more. I can’t help it. The shit is unforgivable. Maybe I’m just not that great of a person. I’m not Jesus. I’m doing the best I can. If you are coherent enough to write a suicide note, then you are alert and present enough to know you are about to do the unthinkable. This asshole knew what he was doing. He chose not to care about us. We’d all like to think he was out of his mind. He wasn’t. Just like the freaky, piece of shit Colorado batman killer wasn’t out of his mind either. He knew what the fuck he was doing. He chose to kill people, just like Dave chose to kill himself. Honestly, I wish he would fade into a memory so fuzzy that I can’t even remember why I’m crying. Hardass? I guess so. It’s the best coping mechanism I have right now. I’m raising three boys without a daddy. What is unfathomable to so many people is my real life. I don’t talk about him that much to them. It makes us all miserable and what is the point? He’s dead. I’m not about to glorify him in death, undeservedly. I find myself emphasizing the drug use a lot…because I want them to know drugs kill you. Addicts die. Families are destroyed. This is what we’ve got. Right here. The truth of what I’m saying probably makes a lot of people uncomfortable. But in the end, it is what it is. The truth. He wasn’t this great man for the last many years. He had the potential for greatness. He chose to be an addict instead. He chose it again and again and again, with every pill he took. And again and again and again with every lie he told. And again and again and again when he denied it every time I asked him. His death wasn’t honorable. Neither was his life. Am I horrible for seeing it for what it was?
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