Drowning in a Wine Glass

12-18-20

My therapist thought it would be good for me to start writing down my feelings since I seem to keep them bottled up inside. To make her happy, I went out and bought this cute little black book, which, according to her, will help me ‘heal’. I’m not sure if this will ultimately end up helping me, but at this point I’ll try anything to start getting my life back to some kind of normal.

The life insurance check came in the mail yesterday. $20,000. Enough to pay the funeral home for the cremation and the service. It brought it all back when I opened that envelope. The crying, the awkward hugs with all his friends and family, the looks of pity and the whispered conversations about what I was going to do now that he was gone. He had been the outgoing one, not me. He would have known what to say to all those people, while all I wanted to do was sit in the corner and drown my sorrows in a big glass of red wine.

Just like planning a wedding reception, a funeral reception is uncharted territory unless you have done it multiple times. I laughed until tears ran down my face after everyone finally left and I walked around my house looking at all the dirty plates and glasses and half eaten casseroles left behind. His mother had offered to help clean up, but I had declined thinking I could handle it all myself. The mess remained for three days before I couldn’t stand the smell any longer.

I don’t know why I’m bringing up any of this, it’s just going to bring back those bitter lonely feelings I’ve been trying to stuff down inside for the last 3 weeks.

I put the urn on my fireplace mantel. I might move it, but for now its almost comforting to have him nearby, no matter the form.

12-21-20

Opening the closet door, it hit me- his smell- that woodsy aftershave that I always thought was so overpowering when he first put it on, mixed with the smell of our fresh linen dryer sheets. Now it just left me longing for more. His shoes lined up in a neat row along the closet floor, the only ones missing were his trail runners. The police still had those, and I was okay with never getting them back. They were a horrible shade of green. I never understood why a company would ever make shoes that color, let alone why my husband thought they would be a good buy.

I found myself staring at his clothes for more than an hour, snot running from my nose as I sobbed, my breath hitching in my throat. My eyes and lungs burned by the time I was able to get up and shut the closet door again.

I hadn’t even tackled the bathroom or his bedside table yet. Maybe next week. Or the week after.

12-25-20

I didn’t feel like putting up the Christmas decorations this year. Like- at all. It’s usually my favorite time of the year, but all I wanted was for it to go away. My therapist tried to coax me into at least putting up the Christmas tree, but I didn’t see the point. What was there to celebrate when it was just me and a dog that hasn’t been on a walk in two weeks. Plus, all the Christmas cards I was getting were starting to piss me off. I threw most of them in the trash unopened.

His mother did finally call to check in with me and see how I was doing, which was sweet. I always had the feeling that woman never liked me. Maybe she liked me more now that her son was out of the picture.

That’s a horrible thing to say, isn’t it? I take that back; she was just being nice because it’s the Holidays, and you’re supposed to. There, that’s better.

I’m going to read over this one day and all I’m going to see is a bitter lonely woman’s rant at the world. Maybe that’s a good thing, at least I’m getting it out of my head and onto paper. This little black book has become my security blanket of sorts even though I don’t write in it every day. I carry it around with me everywhere. I panicked the other day when I couldn’t find it, I tend to rub the cover when I’m waiting in line at the bank or paying for my groceries. I found it later in the bottom of my purse under my make-up case, I literally cried out in relief when I saw it.

Maybe I cling to it because it seems to be the only thing I can control right now. Maybe I’ll pull the box with the tree in it out of the basement tomorrow morning like Dr. Kasey recommended.

Nah, bah humbug.

12-31-20

It is almost midnight, and I think I have had one two many or three wines. It was just me and Paul in his urn, and Ralph- the smelly dog that really needs a bath. And a walk.

You know all those friends of his that were supposed to periodically check in on me? Yeah, no, they are nowhere to be seen. My cell phone is as silent as… well, let’s not go there.

I’m thinking about joining him, actually. I miss him that much and it would be better than this monotonous routine. I still have some pills leftover. My Doctor had prescribed them because I was freaking out after the cops came by that day. Now they seemed like a good way out.

I found them in the medicine cabinet. Are these the last words that anyone will ever read from me? Should I write something more moving? Give advice to the future generations? Burn this up in the fireplace and leave everyone guessing?

I can’t open it, stupid child lock bull-crap. Stupid drunk hands.

1-1-21

I am ashamed of myself.

1-3-21

Woke up with a hangover at 7 in the morning on New Year’s Day with the bottle of pills beside me on the couch. After running to the bathroom to throw up, I read what I had written and was horrified. I almost tore out the page, but I decided to leave it in here as a reminder of how close I came to giving up.

I do not give up. The fact that I did so that easily scares me immensely. One of the reasons Paul married me was because I was stubborn and didn’t back down. I might have been a shy introvert, but he saw something in me no one else saw. I flushed the pills down the toilet followed by the rest of the wine (which wasn’t much). I called Dr. Kasey, scared of what she was going to say, but I was pleasantly surprised when she made herself available to me without judgement. We both agreed it was time for me to make some changes.

Starting with the closet, I folded all of his clothes into two cardboard boxes, keeping his high school letter jacket and the blue button-up he used to wear on our date nights. Next, I went over to his side table and packed away his watch, mouth guard, and a book he had been reading about India. Opening the drawer, I was surprised to find a little black book just like the one I am writing in now on top of some loose change and receipts. I was torn between reading it and letting him keep his secrets even in death, but then I thought- what if he had an affair and he had written about a kid he might have? Or what if he had some bank account somewhere that had a million dollars in it?

I decided to set it aside and come back to it at a later date. Maybe I should call Dr. Kasey and ask her.

1-5-21

A bucket list.

Why he never shared it with me, I have no idea. Maybe he had written it before we were ever together, or maybe it was because I would never have agreed to do even half of what he wanted to do. Maybe I had held him back?

I finally got up the courage to open his little black book this morning. The first few pages were filled with reminders for dentist appointments, client names and phone numbers, bills that were due, and a grocery list. In the back were 3 full pages of things he wanted to accomplish in his lifetime.

My heart hurt as I read them. He only had four crossed off- getting married, snorkeling in Hawaii, bungee jumping, and skiing in the back country. The first two I had been a part of, the other ones must have been done before I knew him. All those adventures, all those dreams, he would never be able to fulfill.

I sadly packed it away with the other things I found on his side table and put it up on a shelf in the basement. Dr. Kasey told me I should distance myself from something like that so I can focus on things I can control, like my work life and taking Ralph in for a much-needed grooming. She’s right, but I can’t seem to get it off my mind.

1-23-21

I mapped it out. I researched every single thing on that list and if I do them all in a certain order, I can accomplish all of them in a year. I know it sounds crazy and completely out of character for me, but for some reason this feels like the only right thing in my life since Paul died.

I put in my notice at work and since I work from home, I don’t have to deal with goodbye cake with coworkers and drinks after work. I’m going to cash in my 401k, sell everything worth something in the house, and then put the house on the market. This sounds insane now that I’ve written it down, and that’s why I haven’t told Dr. Kasey. I feel it’s better if I don’t have her negativity holding me back.

Everything else I want to keep will go into storage, and my nice neighbor Frank has agreed to adopt Ralph. I will miss him the most out of everything I will be giving up, but there is no way I can take a dog across the world with me on this quest to fulfill the wishes of my late husband.

I promised myself when I finish, I will settle down somewhere and go back to normal life. I think the one thing that will help is Paul being with me. I ditched his urn and put him in an airtight waterproof travel bag. Just me and him, like it should be. Like it will always be.