If one more person asks me “So, how are you doing?”, I’m going to shoot someone. And I have a license to carry a gun in public places. I’ve never actually had the opportunity to use it, but I have it none the less. These aren’t people closest to me who are looking for something to say and it pops out. And then they curse themselves for saying it. These are the people who truly want to know “how I am doing”. Maybe they don’t realize I can’t answer that question. I just give them a weak smile and turn and walk away.
I’m having a hard time putting into words what I’m feeling lately. I wake up every morning thinking of Mary (as always). Every day starts off knowing it will be without her. Kerry and I say good bye on his way out the door with frowns on our faces. I get dressed and decide if I’m going to wear Mary’s shoes or my shoes. I’ve been trying to pay some bills and make phone calls in the mornings. I just never get around to doing it. Driving to work I talk to myself and cry, wear sun glasses in the door, and sit down at my desk. For the time spent there I get maybe 50% of something accomplished. The rest of the time I’m looking at Mary’s photo gallery. Today Capitol One’s probate department called me about her credit card. The other day it was the life insurance company at her work. It never ends. I can’t read her emails to me over the last few years. Yes, I keep my old emails from family for years. Then I leave work and talk to myself and cry on the way home. It’s like I’m in an alternate reality and I’m trying to find my way back to mine. If I’m not crying I feel numb, like a walking zombie. If I am crying, my shoulders hurt like something is pushing down on them. I have to wash the dishes or we’d have nothing to eat off of. But I haven’t vacuumed or mopped the kitchen floor in weeks. Why should I? What’s the purpose?
Every once in awhile the reality that Mary is gone slips through and it feels like I stepped on a nail and I just shake my head and say no, no, no, over and over.
Maybe it’s anticipation over going to her house. Maybe it’s because it’s time she came down for a visit. Every two or three months they come down. Or maybe it’s just the fact that something is missing from my life that can never be replaced. I can’t fill it in with busy stuff. I can’t ignore it. I can’t make it go away no matter how hard I try. I feel guilty at times that the sun is shinning and I’m out shopping like nothing has happened.
I am so pissed at that man that I could spit nails. I really do hate him. That won’t bring Mary back but not hating him won’t either and right now it helps.
One day I’ll dream about her and she’ll talk to me. I’m waiting for that day.
I happen, you happen, things happen we know
For a reason, or fate, or chaos
I was happy living a life that I loved
With a man that loved me right back
We had plans for tomorrow, next month, next year
Good friends and family surrounded our lives
In bad times and good times we clung to each other
Joyfully making our way through life.
Then you happened into my life, you bastard,
And I happened to be no more.