Was that you?

Was that you that brought the smell of roses to my attention as I watched a sappy movie from the 90’s? I only smelled them for a moment, but it was right before a scene in which a woman receives roses from a guy. The movie was “Truly, Madly, Deeply” a UK film about a woman not moving on with her life after her lover’s death. I wasn’t super into it, in fact it was going to put me to sleep, which is okay.

But then I smelled roses, briefly and thought about how you wanted me to bring home some rose scented air fresheners or candles. We only ever used the rosewater diffuser, and it has long since evaporated. The candles are sealed and produce no odor.

I’ve heard of this phenomenon before attributed to communication from the other side. I’m wondering, is it difficult for the dead to communicate with the living? Are they reduced to small parlor tricks to get our attention? I would love to have some form of communication with you, but I fear I am blocking it with my grief. I’ve heard that this makes it difficult.

I don’t understand any of this, I just want you to know that you are welcome to perform poltergeist activity here any time. I miss you. I know I can’t make you come back, but some kind of sign that you are okay would go a long way toward healing my grieving heart.

I made reservations at the Anchor Lodge in Fort Bragg for the night of June 22. It would be our 15 year anniversary. I intend to drive down early and visit the lighthouse where we were married and spread some of your ashes. I will keep some for other places we have visited, such as Caspar, Jughandle, Glass Beach, Pudding Creek and McKerricker Beach. That ought to be enough for this trip.

I have so many memories I wish I could just go back and live in, but those days only exist in my mind. I’ve been doing too much of that these days. I need to see the real world again, but I will miss having you there to see it with me. Or to at least come home to with pictures or souvenirs. I’m just so lonely without you here.

I hope you are well, wherever you may be.

Friends

I remember listening to the scanner once while my friend Martin (pronounced Mar-teen) was replacing the clutch on my 86 Honda Accord. We were eavesdropping on a cordless phone conversation in which one person was very depressed and possibly suicidal and the other person was trying to comfort them. The one girl was upset because her boyfriend had broken up with her and she felt so alone, like she had nothing to live for. The other girl said, in a pathetic attempt to comfort her, “Friends is coming on tonight, so you have that to look forward to.”

That’s it?

Yep. It has always stuck with me. That one might be so low that the only light in their day is a TV show that is coming on later in the evening. What a completely sad picture that painted. A person with nothing to live for being kept from suicide by that tiny of a thread.

I asked Sharon when things were irreversible what kept her going, what was she sticking around on this planet for? She had lost so much of what a person can get enjoyment from. “TV shows,” was her answer. I feel like I’m in the same boat right now, clinging hour by hour to the next little thing that promises to be worth living for.

And Friends was cancelled a long time ago.

Horseradish

In my life with Sharon, I would get depressed and act all mopey from time to time. During one of my down periods, she told me to put horseradish on the shopping list. Why? Because she thought it would make me happy. It was one of those little luxuries that I had been denying myself, and if it would make me feel better, then dammit, get some horseradish.

At one point, I had been eating horseradish pretty regularly. So much so that I commented about how much money I could save if I just cut out that one item at the store. I did do that and, although I never calculated the actual savings, I’m sure it was substantial.

I’ve been eating horseradish lately, unfortunately, it just reminds me that my kind, thoughtful, loving wife is no longer here.

I should probably stop buying it. It didn’t fix anything then, either. But it’s the thought that counts.

Closed Until Further Notice

A reply to Lori

Hey. Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Talk to us! We miss you.

Sorry, Lori (and friends). I have restrained myself from sharing my thoughts on Facebook because I am in a dark place. I am honestly more afraid and depleted of hope than I think I have ever been. I feel so alone, but I’m not looking to garner the usual rounds “sorry for your loss” “hang in there” “sending love and prayers” and the like. All these well-intentioned words are just hollow phrases and can’t penetrate into where I am at right now.

I’m not making any progress in overcoming my grief, rather I’m giving in to it. Sinking. Spiraling. I can’t project anything close to positivity, and so I’ve chosen to avoid making the rest of you aware of my self-indulgent stagnation. I’m ashamed of myself for not being a better human. I just feel like giving up, that’s all. I don’t know, maybe I already have and it’s just a slow motion slide into whatever comes next.

Since I’m too cowardly to commit suicide, I guess no intervention is needed. But I would welcome going to sleep and just not waking up. At least not waking up as me. Unfortunately, I don’t even sleep that well anymore.

I have so many toxic thoughts, sad thoughts, selfish, self-pitying thoughts. It’s endless. I’m losing the battle. Ultimately, as I have seen, life ends regardless of how you play the game. I am such a poor sport, thinking I should enjoy a life without pain or sorrow. I am only beginning to see the dues that must be paid and it is overwhelming. I watched Sharon play the worst hand that could be dealt, and I know I could never come close to handling it with such grace and lack of fear.

I don’t know that anyone would really miss me. People don’t even know me. I’ve tried to project an image that is much more of a positive, wizened sage than is actually me. I’m more of a frightened, lonely little kid pouting in a corner waiting for someone to come and invite him to the party. Only, I would just find an excuse to decline the invitation, anyway.

The only one who really knew me at all is gone. I don’t know if we will ever meet again. My mind tends to not believe in such things. I can’t feel her presence. There’s so much I relied on her for emotionally. All I do is make myself cry every day thinking about my sad story, her sad story and I torture myself with these memories. And I don’t want to stop doing this. I don’t want to move on, get past it or get over it. I am stuck.

My body is giving me clues that this cannot go on forever. I am not getting younger. I’m seeing the point of diminishing returns. If it were taken out of my hands I guess I am ok with my life being over. If it were quick. And painless. And no one else had to suffer because of it.

See why I haven’t been sharing? Nothing helpful, playfully insightful or cheery. I am going back to hiding under a rock until further notice. Thanks for inquiring about me, though. It means something that someone noticed I’m not around.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world

Is what I would say to her now about all those long, miserable years we spent suffering from her affliction together…

Because now that’s all I have are memories of her being alive and sure, I block out most of the bad ones. Hell, I can’t even feel those feelings now. All I can feel is the longing for what I had and didn’t appreciate.

She was alive. And she cared about me.

I don’t think I can ever be the same or better than I was with her, I’m just going to try not to slip downhill as fast as I know that I could.

We had some trying times. I felt so overworked and unfulfilled. Now, I hardly do anything and I feel like life is just going to trample me into the ground. Entropy is moving faster than I can. Soon, I’ll be gone, too.

And I’ll think back on these days, these lonely, miserable fucking days that I hate to endure and I’ll say “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world”. 

Tired

I’m tired of being alive. I’m tired of being alone. I can’t stand the daily life I live anymore. The constant rituals and routines of avoiding pain and physical problems, as little as they might be compared to some people’s. I am a coward. I don’t want to face it anymore.

If I don’t dwell on the past, I feel nothing. No spark of life, no new day of hope. Just an endless cycle of trying to get through the day. Eyedrops, eyesprays, walks and supplements, exercise and eating. Watching endless tv, movies, and listening to audio programs.

I get dressed in the morning and I tell myself, “Who cares that I wear this or that?” because honestly, no one does. I don’t feel liberated or free, I just feel uncared about. I am the only one who sees me, besides the random people driving down the road when I go for a walk. What do they really care? Are they going to notice if my shirt or socks or shorts don’t match? Or if I dressed myself tidily or not?

My friends and family are not pestering me at all. Does that mean they don’t care? Or do they feel like there is nothing they can do? With a few exceptions, they don’t even try to initiate any sort of contact. Truly, the person who has spoken to me the most in the last two and a half months is a person who I only know from a 25+ year ago Bible Study.

For some reason he is now the person who is actually validating my personhood, even if he doesn’t know who I am anymore. He remembers this guy, the one from those days a long ago.

I don’t know that remembering those days is giving me a reason to want to continue to live in this world. It seems like a one way trip. My consciousness is now firmly embedded in the world of suffering from the loss of my wife. And my petty, but annoying health issues.

If I’m not crying, I’m not feeling anything. I guess I’ll continue to cry. Alone.

I Don't Think

I don’t think I’ve ever known what it means to love.

I can’t say I’ve ever treated someone as good as I wanted

To be treated.

I expect much, I give little.

I get upset because I know that I’m not loved much,

But I’m reaping what I’ve sown.

Indifference.

Aloofness.

The minimum.

I could have been more thoughtful, and habituated kindness

Instead of selfishness.

All I have is my own solitude and regret.

And a legacy of things left as an example by someone who cared

Enough to listen to me and buy something that she thought I might

Enjoy.

I called it her shopping addiction, she was always buying stuff.

But it was mostly stuff to make my life easier, or some little thing

She tucked away from a conversation in which I said “I wish I had…”

I gave her little for birthdays and Christmas because she was

“Hard to shop for” I would say. Only because she had already bought

What she wanted and more.

I just never got the jump on her and took initiative.

As much as it would have meant to have one birthday or Christmas

That wasn’t a disappointment.

Not that it was, because she was so used to it that she never expected much.

And she wasn’t disappointed in that regard.

But she must have had some longing hope for a come from behind finish

From me.

A big scrooge moment of redemption, which never came.