And Now It's Gone

His car hadn't been moved since when? Mid October maybe? He was too ill to get behind the steering wheel. At first, it was because he was in too much pain. Later, he had surgery and was in the hospital. Finally... well you know the rest. So the car sat in the driveway for three months. When I pulled up in the evening from visiting him at the hospital his white Hyundia was there to remind me that soon we would be back to normal. Soon he would be the designated driver taking me out so I could get drunk with our friends. It wouldn't be much longer until he drove to the grocery store on Sunday morning. Wednesday nights he would be driving home late from visiting his mom and dad. The car reminded me that we would be okay.

When I drove down our street this evening I saw the empty spot where his car used to be parked. His mom had asked me if they could have the car, and I told them yes. I have no need for it. Still, seeing the empty space has a finality to it. We won't be returning to normal. There won't be anymore drives to visit family and friends with him behind the wheel. The funeral took place three weeks ago. One would think I would have figured that out by now. Seeing that empty space puts another hole in my heart though. It's a hole big enough to drive a car through.

Its Just a Day

I'm not going to be sad today. I'm not going to wallow in self pity. I'm going to remember the love that I shared with Doug. Our time together holds to many good memories to be over shadowed by the last few months. I am going to go out and celebrate with my good friend Barry. That's how I choose to spend my Valentine's day.

It's Not All Gloom

Today wasn't really a good day. I moped through most of it at work. I canceled dinner with a friend. I used the excuse that I needed to do some errands (which I do), but truth be told I just didn't feel like going out tonight. It's easier to sit here in front of my computer eating warmed up chimichangas then put any effort in leaving the house and face people. I'd like to say I hope this phase doesn't last long, but I can't even do that with conviction.

But it isn't all gloom and despair. I have moments where I laugh at something stupid at work. I see a youtube video posted on a friend's blog, and it makes me smile. They are fleeting emotions, but genuine. My intellect knows that I won't feel like emotional dog crap until the end of my days, but right now that is of little comfort. I know I've got to get out of this house or my depression will just deepen. I need a mental kick in the ass to get started.

My overall point is that I have good moments. I really do. I'll try and share those as much as I share my 'poor-little-widow-me' moments. Just be paitent with me.

Pictures

There were a few days after the funeral that I was constantly looking at pictures. I saw pictures of Doug in his college days. I looked through pictures of Doug with his family. I put a screen saver up with pictures of Doug during our life together. Suddenly I can't do it any more. For some reason I don't really understand looking at all these pictures has become too painful.

I feel a little guilty about not wanting to see pictures of my dead loved one. I wonder if it is a part of the grieving process to want to separate myself from all of these images. Or is it more of me wrapping my denial blanket tighter around me? I should probably ask someone, but then I get just as tired talking about my grief as I do looking at pictures.

Stupid Heart

It's been two weeks since my lover died. My brain knows this, but my heart still can't comprehend the fact the Doug is not just down the road somewhere waiting to come home. I don't think I've even scratched the surface of grief yet. There has been so much to do. Even after the funeral I've barely had a moment to think about Doug's passing. When I do have a moment, when I am alone at night, I try not to think about it. Denial is my threadbare blanket. It does not offer any warmth or comfort. Denial does not offer me any protection. What it does offer me is a sheath of delusion that everything is okay. I've been wrapped up in my denial blanket for some time, months maybe. It is so full of rips and holes I can barely keep it together. I suppose that is a good thing.

I went back to work this last week. One afternoon I had to work later than my usual. My first thought was to call Doug and tell him I'll be home late. This thought was even more out of place since Doug had not been able to communicate on the phone since November 2008. Strange how I was back in my routine and felt like everything was "normal." Stupid heart causing me to forget even for a brief second or two.

I was warned this would happen. That I would want to place phone calls. That I would wonder what we are going to do for dinner tonight. I was warned I could be in a room full of people and still feel incredibly lonely for the person I love. My brain knows this, but my heart sill can't comprehend.

Test Drive

So I've been thinking a lot about blogging lately. Just a place to put some of my scattered thoughts down. If someone else reads them, great. If not, it's not for the masses anyway. At least not yet.

Why a somewhat public forum to spill my figurative guts? I'm not sure I know the answer to that. Maybe it's vanity. Maybe someone somewhere will read what I put down and identify with what I have to say. Maybe I'm full of shit. All are possible answers.

So this is a test drive. It is a start to an experiment that could have good results or end in failure. Either way I hope the journey is at least interesting to me. I hate it when I bore myself.