It’s been six months since that terrible day. I’ve tried to fill you in on what I’ve done and how I’ve experienced in the post love era.
There are a few notable moments I didn’t mention.
One of my friends nearly died. She had a procedure that should have been minor but complications kept her in the hospital. Her husband later told me he was shouting at Christine for trying to take his wife. I think that’s how he explained it.
It was terrifying for all of us. I don’t think anyone could have taken another death in our small, close knit group. She recovered. I was so thankful. I was also incredibly jealous. That sounds so horrible, but it made me think even more about my own loss. Why did everyone else get to have a person? I know, I’m selfish.
Then there was the night I was on the edge of joining Christine. It only happened once, me feeling that way. I was at our friend’s bar celebrating their 10th anniversary in business. All of our friends and acquaintances were there, having a great time. And I just started to feel so alone. Christine should have been there, but she wasn’t and never would be. It was also the first time several people had seen me since she passed away, so I had the whole widower leprosy thing going on as well.
I just kept coming back to joining her. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I moved away from my friends started messaging her, telling her I didn’t think I could make it through another night without her. And then a friend texted me this:
I know, it’s ridiculous. And it pulled me completely out of that line of thinking and I’ve never gone back.
There was the benefit for Crisis Connections we held in Christine’s honor. A friend did an amazing job getting stuff to auction off and raffle and we raised thousands. I even stood up on a table and gave a short speech. I thought it would be a horribly sad night but it wasn’t. It was a great night.
There was Halloween in Ireland where I was the one who got the ring from the barmbrack bread, supposedly signifying I would be married within the year. It was incredibly awkward but I kept the ring as a promise that things will get better someday.
I went out with the team that night to have a couple pints. When they learned about Christine they told me of an Irish tradition wherein a glass of the departed’s favorite drink was set at the table and a spot left open for them.
They bought her a glass of pinot grigio we kept a place at the table for her.
I also failed to tell you about the most important of the revelations I had. I realized I hadn’t mourned Christine. I pushed her aside so much trying to stay away from the bad feelings and just bottled it all up.
So I decided to let myself feel it. And holy shit how I’ve felt it. I’ve been a total wreck for three weeks. Just constantly breaking down over the littlest thing. But that might be OK.
Oh, and I found a therapist.
So there we are. All caught up. I’m alone. My wife’s sadness overwhelmed her and she took her own life. My kids lost their mom. The world lost the most beautiful person it had.
No happy ending. Not yet. Not even sure if you can have one of those in a situation like this. I mean, Christine clearly can’t. Can I?
I don’t know what’s coming from here. The pain has been overwhelming the last couple days since we buried her. I know it won’t get better, but it will get different. I’ll keep moving forward and keep my memory of her with me everyday. I just need to remember the good ones. Hold those. I’ll probably share them here from time to time.
I’ve heard from an astoundingly large number of people since starting this blog, a lot of them have said me telling this story is helping them through the same darkness Christine suffered from.
I’ll keep writing, you keep reading. We’ll get through this shit show together.
Yours in love,
2 thoughts on “Today”
I love you Ben.
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Thank you, Ben.
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