One month ago today, I was called by a friend to tell me that my husband had died. During this past month, I’ve not had a great time dealing with that horrible news. The range of emotions have been total devastation to fond memories. I can’t say I’ve been actually happy, but there have been moments of peace, though few, where I know he is no longer suffering.
I’ve been sad mostly. Not a day has gone by where he has not crossed my mind, and therefore his loss has always been looming. It helps to think about the happier memories, but there is always that overwhelming nagging in the back of my head that says that while the memories are great, there will never be any more. I’m angry, i feel guilty and like a failure, and I’m scared.
I’m angry for different reasons. Angry that he didn’t listen to me. Angry with myself that I didn’t force him. Angry at other people that seem to focus solely on how he died, rather than the person he was. Angry that I cannot have his things, OUR things. Angry that I cry, and angrier when I just can’t cry anymore. Angry that I’ve not had a sign from him to know that he’s at peace. Angry that the one thing that has always brought me comfort in troubled times, music, just reminds me of him. Angry that I have to live without him….and angrier still that I have no idea how to do that.
I feel guilty for not being a better example. He was going through a battle I faced years ago. Did I somehow fail to set a better example? Was there more I could have said or done? Did I not love him enough for him to see how it was affecting us? Did I not make it easy enough to love me enough to face his demons? What could I have done, said, showed, been differently? The unanswered questions just bring on another wave of anger and sorrow.
I’m scared to go on with life. How do I go on, knowing he can’t, he won’t? How am I supposed to act? How long will it hurt? Does the pain subside, or ebb and flow for the rest of my life? The heartache I feel scares me. I feel like I’ll never heal. So many things I do, see, and hear throughout the day only remind me he is gone. I’m scared I’ll never know the answers about him. I’m absolutely terrified he died not knowing how much I loved him, how much I always will. If I were to die, would I see him again? I’m too scared to think about that…I could never run the risk of dying and losing him forever versus at least living and having my memories. I’m too scared to live without him, too scared to die and never know.
I feel like a zombie going through my life. It’s changed dramatically, and the “what ifs” just keep piling up. I can’t forget, but I’m having trouble moving on. The guilt, the anger, the fear are preventing me from actually living. I’m just a shell going through the motions of life, knowing that a part of me is dead.