Hindsight

Therapy and this blog are actually doing me a world of good. The blog has been amazing. It's like releasing those feelings in a way I never even considered before. You'd think having written on other blogs and infrequently in journals I would have thought of it before.

A close friend of mine lost his first relative that he was close to recently. MC lost his grandfather. It was not unexpected. He posted a comment on facebook about not being able to tolerate people. I called his wife to tell her that the sensitivity he was feeling was part of the grieving process. If I hadn't just gone through it myself I wouldn't have known that. I didn't know what was going on until my own sister pointed it out.  People were just hard to tolerate. Situations and things that shouldn't make me ill or sad were doing just that. Funny enough I don't really feel uber sensitive now, but I'm less tolerant to people's insensitiveness to others and not as willing to pity them for silly reasons as I would have before. It may sound selfish, but I have become more important to me.

It is weird to put yourself first, especially if you are not used to it. It's one of the reasons my neighbor and I had such a falling out. When Allen wasn't around and he wanted something from me, I would bump him up into that place of person who needed so I would provide (I mean after all he was gay, so not a threat to my marriage... and he was company and I hated being alone... and he was here).

I'm not afraid to be alone now. In fact, today I have chosen to spend the day by myself (well, mostly I had my run this morning with the ladies I run with). But I'm not panicked because I don't have plans for today. And it's a Saturday. Allen died on a Saturday. But that's ok too. :)

Funny thing, ok not very funny. I've been crying on and off ever since yesterday's post and thinking of my dear Kayla. I don't really know why. I don't know if it's because her death was just the last thing in stream of really bad things for me personally. I don't know if it's because I made the decision to end her life before her days of suffering. I know I have shed more tears over her than Allen and I often wonder if this makes me a bad person. He took his life. I had no choice in it, and I did watch him suffer.

I've done so much thinking since he died. Drawing conclusions. We went Mac a couple of years ago. We had been saving for a long time because our last two PC's died at inopportune times and because we were backup slackers we lost a lot of stuff we shouldn't have (but that was our own fault).

I honestly think the reason I have my own Macbook Pro is because he knew if I had something else I'd have to find someone to rely on for support with any issues I had with it. He was so excited that I got so much more savvy online and with the Mac than I had ever been with a PC. I think maybe it was because we started out on the same knowledge level with the Macs. They weren't something I felt I could easily break or destroy. I was the one who wanted an ipod first. I wanted the first ipod shuffle. It only had that one button and an on-off switch. It was tiny and I wanted a green one. I hadn't even told him the color I wanted and one day I came home to find just that... waiting on me. I bought him a much bigger one a week later. I don't even remember what it was called, but it was bigger than the shuffle and pre-touch days.

Our first smartphones were the iphone 4.
I hated mine for about a week before I figured out how she worked. I don't even know where my shuffle is. I haven't seen it in forever LOL.

These things I am also convinced came into our lives because he knew he was going to take his life sooner or later and he wanted me to have things I could use.

Our cars were both getting old a full of miles. I was getting scared that my car which was in the 180,000 plus miles was going to leave me stranded. So I got a brand new car last year. Neither of us had ever owned a new car before. Allen was completely against new cars. He thought they were a waste of money. I had always wanted a new car, but agreed that they depreciated so rapidly. But I'm not mechanical and neither was he. I did all the research on the car I really liked and if we bought new we got 0.9% financing. I called my accountant friend who said if I planned on keeping any new car I purchased as long as I kept my last car that the depreciation didn't matter, it would be a good investment. So as soon as Allen woke up I presented the car, my research and the fact that we only had a few hours before the special finance rate would go up (it was a sales weekend).

He said ok. He didn't even look at the car before we signed the papers. He kept asking me if I was happy with it, if I'd be happy with it for a long time.

He always told me I'd do better than he would the day Kayla died, but he said he wanted to be there, he just couldn't wait her out. I'm thinking she probably knew she needed to wait. Dogs sense things like that.

I already mentioned he told me every day that his being down wasn't my fault, that I had nothing to do with it. He had been telling me also for the last couple of years he didn't need me. That he would be fine without me, and that I'd be so much better off without him in my life. He knew I'd be ok. He knew I would go forth and make myself happy. He knew I'd find someone to love who would love me for me.

He wanted it that way.

He WAS so smart.

More Important Trauma I Didn't Mention Earlier

Since the things I was posting about kind of went in order prior to the last few, there are another couple of traumatic things that happened after Allen died and before I went to AZ. I had a car accident one day a week or so after I started back to work. And by having a car accident I mean I hit a pedestrian who was on her cellphone running through moving traffic. She lived, everyone told me she was ok. People were actually worried about me driving myself home, but it was the middle of the day. I was on my way to work from being home for lunch and I didn't know who to call. It was only a mile or two from my home. Everyone was so kind. There were even witnesses who saw everything and told the police there was no way I could avoid hitting her.

I had never even thought about the chance I might do something like that before.
Let me tell you it's really surreal. I was so afraid to get back in the car and drive, but I had to. The next morning I got in my car and drove that exact route to work. So I could...

On January 2nd Allen's grandfather died. I knew he wasn't going to live long. I had gone to see him on my Christmas trip to Alabama. I just didn't know it would be so hard to lose him. He was always so kind to me.

The day he died one of my girlfriends called and told me I had to get off the couch and get out of the house. She said I could meet her out or she could pick me up. I chose meet her. On my way to meet her I got a speeding ticket.

I quit smoking on January 8th.

I haven't started back and don't intend to.

I put the money I would spend on cigarettes everyday into my savings account for something special :).

On January 11th the dog that has been my constant companion since August 5, 2000 had to be put to sleep. She'd been in renal failure for about 2 years.

I fed her my favorite candy in the whole world... Reese's easter eggs. The original size ones that you buy individually. I had bought two the first day I saw them in the store. She ate them with such passion I can't imagine ever eating them again.

She was so happy and went so peacefully.

I know it was the right thing to do. I feel like the most selfish person in the world for saying this, I know there will be people who disagree or think less of me, but it felt like I lost a child. A part of my very soul. I loved that dog so much, and she never ever left me or got mad at me. She was always here for me. When I was said she'd let me hold on to her and she'd lick my tears away.

As she was dying I told her to go bite Mr. Allen. We were Mr. Allen and Ms. Charity to her. Allen thought it was stupid for people to refer to pets as children. We used to tell her to bite each other when we were aggravated with one another.

I had all my work peeps with me when it was time. They were so good to me. One of our male docs had to leave because he couldn't stand the thought of being there for it. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to be happy she was no longer in pain. It just hurt so bad.  I screamed and cried, like I'm doing now.

Keeping your pet from suffering is the kindest thing you can do for them. I kept my promise to her. I didn't let her suffer.

I know it was the right thing to do.

But it still hurts.

Moving on...

I didn't have a problem thinking of myself as single. I saw the dead body with my own eyes. I know he is gone. I didn't know when the right time was to take off my wedding ring. The ring I have worn for years was given to me by Allen's late Grandmother, God rest her soul. She gave it to me so very many years ago. She was the one person in his family that always accepted me for exactly what I was. She never tried to tell me when the time was to have children or to keep from having children. She always told us that she just wanted us to be happy. She always told me she appreciated that I was a "real" person who stood up for whatever I believed in no matter who was behind me. And she always told me it was great that I was ok being myself despite the pressures of my inlaws. She told me to stay exactly as I was no matter what! She also told Allen how much she always loved him, even though she never got to spend as much time with him as she wanted when he was little.

She didn't want anyone to be able to say anything about her giving me a piece of jewelry so she gave it to me one time when I went to spend the night with her. She brought it to me and told me to put it on. It fit like it was bought for me and she said that meant she had made the right decision.

I don't remember which day, but it was before the service, it may have been right after the viewing or maybe it was after, but it wasn't a very long time before I moved my wedding ring to my thumb. I have lost some weight and it was loose on the right finger anyway. I don't wear it on my hands at all anymore. It's on a shelf, with the ashes. There's nothing wrong with wearing it, I was just ready to stop. I want to move on. My therapist says that whatever relationship I think I'm ready for, I am.

That ring is a symbol. For me taking it off means that I am ready for new, that I am no longer tied to my past. I will treasure it forever, Grandmother was so special to me. I will treasure my marriage. It was a literal 'til death do us part marriage. But I'm free. To come and go and see and talk to whomever I want. I'm free to be in love or not in love as my heart sees fit.

And it's ok.

Important things I have left out... The Affair

I started this blog as part of my therapy.  My therapist recommended that I spend specific time with my grief once or twice a week, and in doing that I learned that it was more than I could handle all at one time.  I already had some blogging experience and decided that if I could at least start out with a post a day, then it would be something and maybe, just maybe it would be enough to help me.

I have been having trouble on certain days at work. This portion of the therapy was specifically discussed as a means for me to get through those days. It was suggested that I wasn't "dealing with" my grief in whatever way it needed to be dealt with, or as much as it needed to be acknowledged. (I wasn't trying to leave them out by any means, it just happened that way... I mean I feel like I have been sad and grieving so much, and I just want to move forward and be happy, but apparently that is not how grief works.)

So I blogged, and as of this past week, the normal day I would have had so much trouble just rolled right on past. It was two more days before I realized I should have had some sort of meltdown and didn't. I think that is AWESOME. But I was looking over this blog and realized there was at least one really important thing I forgot to mention:

I have a friend that I met through my late husband Allen, God rest his soul, and I'll call this friend M. M is or was an unhappily married man who Allen and I had gotten really close to. I of course always did the calling to make arrangements for our dinner meetings and if Allen was working or something then I went out with M alone.  M is smart, and lovely and we all got along fabulously. M was supposed to be in Memphis on business before Christmas and had told me we could go out to dinner and just talk. M was really upset about Allen's death and wanted to console me.

I took it upon myself to decide that if I could seduce M, I'd feel better, that literally I could cleanse the memory of my dead spouse from my body. It needed to be held and touched. I wanted to forget that everything hurt and that I was alone. M was not being given affection at home and I wanted to both give and receive.

I went out and bought possibly the most beautiful dress I have ever put on. It made me look fit and accentuated every curve. I bought lovely velvet shoes to match and couldn't wait for M to get to Memphis.

M didn't make it. The business trip got cancelled. When I found out I begged M to let me drive over to where he lived so I could see him. He said no, that he was having marital difficulty and that I would just be too fishy to explain. Then I told him exactly what I had been planning. (at this point I'm really raw and hurting and feeling rejected on top of it all and at the same time ashamed because he is married even if it's not happy right now, I just wanted to be with someone SO BADLY... someone I trusted and respected and who I thought could just take me in their arms and make me feel special and good)

The fact that I didn't get to have this affair is probably one of the best things that could have happened to me. You see before this happened, I had a very poor way of using sex. I used sex to validate myself as a worthwhile person. Even in my marriage. Allen and I talked about it many times over the years. I equated being wanted physically with being worth wanting.

That just isn't true.

Sometimes they say, you have to hit rock bottom. I'm going to say that this night in December, whatever night it was... was my rock bottom.

The good news is I found out from my sweet therapist that THIS is totally normal. But most women actually find someone to sleep with.  I however was really picky. For this time, it had to be M specificallly. I can't thank M enough for being good, moral and true to his spouse.

I haven't spoken to M since. I had told him that if he never wanted to speak to me again I'd understand why. I feel like the lowest of the low for what I did, but I can't take it back. I'm also glad I said it out loud so that I won't ever do it again to my friend. I still think of M all the time, I wonder how he is. I want him to know how sorry I am.

I hate I lost that friendship as well. I hope maybe one day he will understand.

Even Amazon's have growing pains.

Therapy Session #1

So my first therapy session was just horrible. Wonderful and horrible. The grief center that I go to for counseling is completely free to anyone suffering from grief who wants to use the service. I got the name and phone number of the place from Allen's former therapist (she refused to see me although I really wish she would have).

I had decided that if I was going I was going to be totally honest and tell her everything that had gone on from as far back as I could think would matter. And I did. I gave her more information in that 50 minute hour than I thought was possible to get out in that length of time.

 And I cried.

Big heaving sobs.

And she listened. She didn't try to tell me anything I did was wrong. She didn't judge any of the intimate details I gave her about our marriage. She just listened. She asked me how I felt I was doing. She told me I was to tell her anything I wanted to tell her and that she promised I wouldn't shock her. And I didn't.

I went home, rested a bit and then went back to work.

I was drained and exhausted.

I felt so overwhelmed by the experience that I called in to work the next day. But it was ok. I had started therapy. I had taken the first step. This wasn't just for me, it was for everyone who had worried about me. Everyone I had promised I would do it.

And I felt that even though I was all wrung out that day... that it was going to do some good after all.

I wasn't crazy, and I was going to be ok... and someone qualified to make that judgement and tell me was assuring me of that.

She was telling me what I already knew.

I was going to be OK.

For me!

I flew to Tucson on Friday the 13th. It was my lucky day. I have always (as a grown up anyway) said that Friday the 13th is my lucky day. If you wake up saying it's going to be a bad luck day, it will be.

I got to fly on two airplanes, by myself. It was awesome. I'd never done that before. I got to call the hotel and have them send a shuttle for me. That was awesome too!

I checked myself into the hotel, again something new.

Yep, I'm Wonder Woman.

Not afraid of adventure.

There was dinner with my friend that night, breakfast and a most exciting trip to a living museum the next day. Dinner with more people Saturday night. Back on an airplane on Sunday to get home. By myself. Shuttle from the airport to the car lot where I parked.

I didn't need anyone's help to get home, no airport ride (although some people had offered).

It felt like the most grown up thing I had ever done in my life. I didn't ask anyone's permission to make this trip (other than asking my friend if it'd be ok for me to show up...).

In the days that followed my trip, people at work began commenting that I seemed so much better.

I was.

I had taken control.

It was my life and I AM Wonder Woman.

Not long after I got back my neighbor and I had another huge fight. He told me there would be no more working projects done in my home until I got therapy because I was obviously losing my mind. I tried to tell him that for once I wasn't losing my mind. I tried to explain that I was Wonder Woman, not married woman who gives in to whatever because it creates the least amount of tension. Not the person who only pleases others and tells herself to get over whatever she might have hoped/dreamed/wanted.

I didn't lose my spouse to be taken over by someone who only wants me to do what they want me to do and for me to THINK it's my idea. I want to implement my ideas. I want to do the things I want to do.

He was right about work stopping on my house. It hasn't started back yet. I don't know how to fix the things that are taken apart. But whatever is supposed to happen will. I am making it. I am doing fun things and therapy.

I went to therapy the very week after he threw in the towel about my household projects, but I refused to be the one who caved in and called/texted first. He contacted me just a couple of weeks ago. It's a long story but I don't think we are friends anymore. I don't need users in my life like that. I don't have the energy for them.

That's not true, I just don't have it in me to give them my energy anymore.

Wonder Woman would never do that :)

The old year passes.

From Christmas until New Years I tried my best to stay upbeat. I continued getting my nails done. I asked people a dozen times a day if I was acting normal. I kept fielding questions about why I hadn't found a counselor yet. I was freaking out because I didn't have insurance anymore. I didn't know how I was going to afford insurance or take care of myself. I mean, I knew it would all work out, but man, things were going to be tight and I was just so overwhelmed.

My neighbor promised me a rockin' New Years Eve on the town. I bought some dresses off ebay. Then at the last minute a ton of things happened at the same time.

1. I found out they didn't expect Allen's grandfather to live into the New Year so I cancelled my plans with my neighbor.
2. I got into a big fight with my neighbor over said cancellation.
3. I found out that someone special that had been friends with Allen online and had been checking in on me EVERY DAY was going on a business trip to the Southwest and would have a day to just hang out.
4. I decided I needed some adventure. No matter the price. People kept telling me I was "fine" and I didn't believe them, but I didn't not believe them either. I felt out of control and I wanted to take some control. I wanted to be in charge. I kept telling myself I was in charge of my own life and could do what I wanted, but the reality of my situation was that I was coming home every night and mostly following orders on what to do next in my house. I didn't get a choice on what we would do next, I was just expected to come home after being at work until six and then work until exhaustion set in and get up the next morning and go to work at 7am to do it all again.

I was fighting with my neighbor constantly and didn't know what to do to let him know that I needed a break. He kept saying I didn't and that I needed to hurry and finish the work on my house.

I bought a plane ticket. I was going away. He fought with me about that too.

I didn't care.

I am Wonder Woman.

She isn't one to be pushed around.

I had been so sad and defeated. I didn't know what to say or do. I needed something. I needed me. I needed to take my power back. I had laid it down in hopes that someone else could just direct me like a puppet.

That was wrong.

Paternal Confirmation

So the day after my meltdown at my Dad's family Christmas I drove over to my favorite Uncle's house to meet with just my Daddy. It went really well. I told him I wasn't sorry for the words that I said to my stepsister, but that I was really sorry for upsetting everyone and that if he wanted me to call and apologize to his wife I'd be glad to apologize to her for causing a scene or hurting her feelings.

Daddy told me not to worry about it. That no one was mad at me at all. (No one except the stepsister.) He said everyone was just worried about me. I asked him if he thought I was crazy and he said no. He told me then, I think for the first time, he's told me dozens of times since that he has never been through "this" before and he thinks everyone is doing well despite what happened. He also keeps telling me that he thinks as hard as losing a spouse is, even with it being a suicide, that it is on some level easier than getting a divorce.

The more I learn about marriages ending badly, the more I am inclined to agree with that sentiment.

At least my family doesn't think I'm crazy.

I was worried about that for longer than I like to admit.

 :)

I asked my Daddy how long he thought it would be before I started feeling normal, he said he didn't know. He also told me that he was proud of me for handling myself well. He said he didn't know how I was doing it.

I didn't really know of anything special I was doing, I was and am just living.

He's so supportive and I love him so much for everything he has said and done so far.

I am thankful for his ability to forgive and move forward and accept me flaws and all.

It's a powerful thing for a parent to accept and support his child just the way they are.

I'm so proud he's my Daddy!!

Christmas Day 2011

I woke up exhausted and already in a bad mood. I wanted nothing more than to be at home alone or at least at my local sanctuary where I could be alone if I wanted, but that wasn't available to me at the moment either. So I got up to get some coffee. My mom wanted to spend time with me and I made a big effort to be cheerful. All she wanted to talk about was me moving "home." And she got really upset when I told her over and over again that I have a home, it's in a different state and no I don't think I'll live there forever but I don't want to move back here thank you very much. That was the theme for the morning. I left early to go to my Dad's in hopes my big brother would be there.

When I got to my Dad's I was the only person there which was nice. They didn't try to talk to me about moving or anything. Then my evil stepsister called and (remember this is all from my perspective so it may not be what actually happened, but it's what I overheard from where I was sitting) I heard my stepmother tell her not to come (they have their xmas together on xmas eve). She said she didn't have anything for N (stepsister's baby) to open and that they'd already had their xmas together so don't come. Then she said fine, come one, I'll go wrap one of his toys.

So I was really irritated right then. I don't get along with my stepsister at all. I never have. She's 10 years younger than I am and really messed up in the head, she's been on drugs on and off for so many years... it's a long story and I'm not trying to be insensitive, but she killed any hope of us having a relationship long ago with the things she did to my dad. So my family starts arriving and we go fix plates. I go sit in the dining room which has limited seating so I don't have to deal with so many people at once. I tell my loved ones who chose to sit in there with me that if the stepsister shows up I'll probably leave soon and relate to them the phonecall I overheard.

She shows up.

And starts going in and out of the door in the dining room to the outside porch. I have no idea why. She's a smoker but couldn't smoke a cigarette in the time it's taking her to go in/out/in/out. There are three doorways to this house. All of them are near the same yards and there is no reason to go in and out like a dog with a urinary tract infection. So I finally couldn't take it anymore.

I stood up and locked the door the next time she went out. When she tried to get in and found the door locked I asked her to please use any other door to the house, but please not that one. (Really I said please, and I was calm.) Then she started beating on the door and ringing the doorbell.

NO ONE moved to open the door.

After at least 2 actual minutes of banging and ringing she went to another door, came back in the dining room and told me not to DARE lock her out of her house again. (she doesn't live there and hasn't in many years... in fact I'm sure I spent more time living there growing up than she ever did...) So I stood up, walked over to her, grabbed her left arm in my right hand and stepped through the door to the outside (she had already unlocked the wooden door, I just kind of pushed her through the storm door. Then I held on to her  with my right hand and proceeded to tell her exactly what a low-life terrible person I had thought she was for many, many years and told her that I had tried asking her nicely to please use another door, that I was under a lot of stress, and that I thought any human being could understand that and do something so simple that was asked of them. Then I let her go.

I walked back into the house with her on my heels screaming for her mother. I said my rapid good byes at the dining room table and ran to the door nearest my car (I could hear her telling her mother I attacked her and I was so afraid I was about to go to jail for a very Jerry-Springer Christmas). I grabbed my dog and threw her in the car and then went back to scream for whomever was parked in front of me to move their car NOW.

My sweet brother-n-law tried to give me a hug and I screamed at him not to touch me because I had to drive and I couldn't do that if he hugged me.

Then I left, as quickly as I could get away. I drove about 20 miles up the road, pulled over at a gas station and sobbed. And smoked (I don't think I mentioned I was a smoker, but maybe I did) and I was SO upset I called a friend to help me calm down. I told him what happened. He and his wife were in Bham and offered to come pick me up and take me somewhere  or whatever I needed, but he calmed me down enough to be able to drive, and really that's all I needed.

I went to R's, for peace. I took some medication, made about a million calls to find out if everyone in my family hated me (no one did, in fact almost everyone was laughing about the stepsister getting such a dose of medicine LOL). I made arrangements to visit with my dad at my Aunt and Uncle's house the next day. And I got some rest. And I cried. And I asked how long it was going to be before I was normal again.

I have a new normal.

It's ok to be sensitive. If people don't know what happened, I tell them. Everything that has not changed has in some way for me. I'm a me now, not an us.

It's weird. It's wonderful. I am alive, to live whatever life I want to have. It's an awesome responsibility that I had never thought to prepare for.

I think I'm doing well.

Christmas Sensitivity

Winter holidays are hard for the masses. Suicide rates soar around Christmastime.

It happens.

Thanksgiving had become my very favorite holiday over the years. I used to love Christmas more, but over the years the stress of buying and trying to spend an equal amount of time with both of our families took its toll. Eventually Allen found a job where he would work almost every Christmas. The retail environment he worked in for so long made him want to crush decorations and music so at our house, only occasional minimal stuff came out of hiding. Usually only if the godchildren were going to come over. My neighbor especially tried to get me to go crazy with Christmas decorations. He knew I loved the tradition and the lights. He thought it would make me happy to have a task, something slightly creative to work my brain just a little.

It all sounded so exhausting. I couldn't stand the thought of any of it. It was hard to see the stuff when I was out and about. People were so excited.

I've personally had a really hard time with the holidays for years. Two years ago Allen got to go to Alabama with me for Christmas. It was the first time in 8 years he'd had Christmas off work. It was really special. Just to have him with me to see the family.

This year I really wanted to skip it all.

Really.

I had a hard time getting people to understand that. It wasn't the presents, I wasn't used to family presents. Allen and I usually got one another something, but I was ok with not. I just didn't want to go be in the middle of everything and everyone. But I sucked it up, with the help of some Klonopin. I drove that horrible lonely drive to Alabama.

I went to Mom's for a couple of nights. Maybe one. I don't really remember except that before the family dinner was finished I wanted to crawl under a rock. I love my family so much, but there are so many of them, and it was so loud. I didn't know what to do, I wanted to scream at everyone, to tell them to pretend I wasn't there. I wanted to go into a room and be alone and shut the door, but I knew SOMEONE would feel OBLIGATED to check on me and I didn't really want to be RUDE or UGLY.

So I stuck it out. I ate I stayed in the room where the presents were opened, I watched the kids play and I tried so hard not to be short with people. My middle sister said she could tell how sensitive I was, and she wanted to help. There was nothing to be done, I had to get through Christmas Eve at Mom's and tomorrow was Christmas Day at Dad's. It was going to happen, good or bad... take it or leave it.

After the family left, I went and took the Klonopin hoping for the fuzzy brain and relaxation to come quickly. Then I was summoned to the livingroom to see what Santa brought. I went, he brought me some cute things... my favorite I think was the back scratcher :)

Also my sweet cats had bought me this lovely scarf, made of white lace. It's one of my favorite things now... they did good ;)

I made it in one piece by the power of Wonder Woman that I was becoming. I didn't leave in a huff or curse at anyone. I chatted with my online friends about how much it sucked to be around so much holiday joy and to feel worlds apart from it. They were awesomely supportive.

The next day however did not go as well.

Adventure awaits...

I don't now what day I started asking people how long things were going to take, but at some point I started letting people know if they really wanted to help me, they'd give me some sort of idea how long it would it would take for me to start feeling something close to normal.
How long I was supposed to wait before thinking of going out with friends, or going somewhere alone? When could I have fun, when could I laugh?

No one could answer these questions for me, but I have the answer.

Whenever you do it.

After that trip to Alabama, I came home and went to Washington, D.C..
I had an adventure. For no real reason except I was invited and I wanted to go. My neighbor took me. I made a real friend out of someone who had before only been virtual (and by that I mean I met someone that I formerly didn't know in person, but only via email/text/phone).

I never met an online friend alone before. Everything worked out ok. Choosing to make this trip did something for me that I didn't know would happen. It started things in an upward direction. It reminded me about everything I had put aside because it didn't fit into the "us" that I had become.

The trip was a GREAT decision. Next I started having shellac manicures weekly (that's really too often so if you're going to do it, stretch it out to every two weeks). Those just boosted my self confidence, but it started to make the people at work think I was slipping. But hey, I needed something and no one there was asking me to do anything... the only other activity I had was my neighbor Scruggins was working me like a freaking slave to change my home surroundings. (This was a good idea which eventually led to a BAD outcome but more on that later...).

People thought I was crazy, I have known people who were widowed and they did things I thought were "crazy" as well. Rest assured no matter how your spouse dies, some things you are going to want to do or actually do will make people question your sanity.

Know this: People all grieve in different ways
You will find out who is really your friend when you go through a loss like this
Not everyone you think will give you the support you expect
You can make it
You will become whomever you will yourself to become

I decided I needed to call upon the powers of my girlhood champion and embody her.
I decided to become: Wonder Woman

Secret Scatter

That time after the memorial at R's was really special. We felt (or I felt) like R, H and I were connected on some weird spiritual level. I felt like everything was going as it should. I asked for some plastic baggies and then opened the Urn myself. I transferred some of the ashes from the urn into a baggie for each one of us. I had told the boys beforehand that there would be chunks mixed in with the ashes so they would be prepared. When bones or teeth aren't consumed by the fire, the remains go through a grinder so there are some "chunks."  It was something I was glad I knew beforehand. About midnight we loaded up in the car and drove together to the sprinkling place.

The "Wish You Were Here" album was our soundtrack while we drove. We were not exactly jovial, but I don't remember it being too solemn on the car ride. I had seen a sign earlier that day, and I knew where my ashes were going. We parked a ways from where we would end up, what we were about to do wasn't really legal so we didn't want to draw attention to ourselves. As we reached where we were going, I noticed that the lights that were usually on were all out, it was dark and quiet. Weird and wonderful... just proving I had made the right decision. The boys also put some of their ashes in the stream. (The stream where the beaver lives... inside joke.)

We stood there together and after the ashes were spread there came a great breeze. So I told the boys about the night Allen and I were out with another girl (his girlfriend at the time) and we were playing a game... we said the next song that came on the radio was Allen's nickname. The song that came on was Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Call Me the Breeze." Allen said everyone in the world was born with so many "redneck" points and he spent all his on Lynyrd Skynyrd (LOL). We all smiled. I think I shed a few tears. We walked around for a while. I just felt I was communing with nature and the fact that I was closing a chapter. And I felt a little guilty for saving some ashes to take home.

We had talked many, many times about what we wanted done when we passed. I wanted to be scattered and finally he said he wanted the same thing. He did not want me to have ashes at home to worry over and take up space at home. I just wasn't ready to let all of him go. We drove back to R's house, which I have come to think of as my sanctuary. I have my own key and an open invitation to use the house as I will, as I need. Who could ask for better friends?

We drove back, R fell asleep on the way. H and I talked and talked. I don't know how much sleep I got, I don't really remember if I stayed one or two more days. I may have gone back right after... it's all blurry to me now. I know that by this time I was wanting some sort of grieving manual with a time frame. I wanted to know when the hurt would stop, when I would feel like a person again. When I wouldn't feel like I couldn't make decisions on my own.... I hadn't even figured out if I could afford to live alone, but I couldn't imagine leaving my home. It's mine...

It's where my stuff is.
Where our stuff is.
What about all the stuff?

The next day I know I went to visit Nana. I took her the Urn that had been at the service to give to Allen's mom. She had mentioned when I gave her the little urn at the service that she was going to open it and share with his mom. I told her not to because I had plenty of ashes to share and I'd be glad to give her some. I liked my shipping container better than the urn, so I had sealed the urn after taking out ashes to scatter and that was what I took to Nana.

Nana tried to tell me that I needed to keep the urn, or that they'd pay me for it. I felt it was one of the least things I could do for his mom. I wanted her to understand that I'd never tried to keep them apart, that I had always wanted them to have a relationship. I don't know if she understood any of that in my gesture, I doubt it, but it made me feel better.

At this point, anything I could think of to do to feel any better at all was what I did.

The Memorial Part II

H stood up and read from the Silmarillion. As soon as he told me there were passages from that particular book he wanted to read, I knew what they were. I've never been able to finish the book, but I had read those passages. They were about the creation of the world with music. And it was wonderful and appropriate as music made up so much of Allen's life. H and Allen shared so much through music... it was wonderful.

R kept telling me he couldn't find anything, and I knew he would, hell I knew he had something in mind as soon as I mentioned it, but he wanted something else for some reason. That I couldn't understand.

He had a poem he had written. He said he knew from the moment I mentioned it that it was what he needed to read, that it had always been about Allen. So he read it. It was perfect. He spoke for a while about how he and Allen were brothers, by chance and by choice although not by blood. And then he did my favorite thing. He quoted John Cleese from Graham Chapman's funeral.

“Alright, Cleese, you’re very proud of being the first person to ever say ‘shit’ on 

television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to be the 

first person ever at a British memorial service to say ‘fuck’!”

I laughed so very hard at this. I think I was the only one who laughed out loud, I know H smiled because he was sitting beside me. None of my family was offended and none of our friends. I know some of Allen's family was offended but I didn't find that out until later, and really... I didn't care. I know he loved it! After R my sister CH stood up and told the crowd about the verse she felt God gave to her to pass on and then I stood up, thanked everyone for coming and invited everyone to lunch that the ladies from my families church's provided. 

Allen's family refused to stay, they preferred to go eat lunch at the Cracker Barrel. I had almost had my limit of talking to the crowd and my friend DM (he was my best friend in High School) came up to me and asked me if I wanted to just walk around the park a bit. (I did) and I walked and talked to him for quite a while. Allen's mom came up and said something to me at one point and I don't even know what she said, but I remember looking at DM and telling him that whatever it was she said, was only to benefit other ears because I knew how she felt about me when she snubbed me to hug R. I don't really want to feel that way, but I still do. It's ok, she didn't want to be a part of our lives as we wanted to live it when Allen was alive. 


After walking around and waiting for the crowd to die down I went over to eat. I said goodbye to people and helped clean up. Then my family left, DM left. Then R, H and I took A over to the Montevallo campus and walked all over. Talking about memories of good times, pointing out where we used to hang out, and things that had changed since we had last been there. We told stories of Allen and talked about other girlfriends he had while he was there. 


It was a great day. Warm, sunny and lovely. 


It was time to go back to R's house, for a nap and some quiet time. Later we would sprinkle some ashes together.

The Memorial Part I

On my way to the park I got a call from some out-of-town friends. They weren't exactly sure how long it was going to take them to get the rest of the way to the park where the memorial was being held, and I wasn't sure either. I can't remember when I'd been there last. They called and I told them where I'd meet them and that we could all drive to the park together. When I met them there were hugs all around. It was hard to believe that so many people were driving so far just to come to a service to say goodbye. Lots of these people barely knew Allen, I was so touched.

We got to the park, just in time. There were only a few minutes left before the memorial was supposed to start. Someone forgot the table they said they'd bring for the Urn and the picture that I brought... oh well, there were some chairs that had been set up so people could sit, we used one of those. Some people had brought flowers. Several actually. I had asked for no flowers... but there weren't many and they are important to some people.  I do like flowers, I just didn't think he'd have wanted them. The flowers were placed all around the urn.

As I was walking over to where the actual service was to take place, people started hugging me and expressing their sympathies from all over. I was trying to be strong and smile and thank people. They didn't know what to say and I didn't know what to say back, so in that regard we were even. Allen's Aunt and Grandmother were two of the first people I spoke to. I let his Grandmother know that I had a separate urn of ashes just for her. She mentioned opening the urn so she could share the ashes with his mother and I told her not to, that I could give her ashes as well. Then as I made my way through all the people, I went to find his mother. I wanted to convey to her in some way, I had no idea how... that I did love her son with all of my heart, that I was sorry they had not had a close relationship for many years. I know she will never, ever believe how hard and long I worked to try and help him work on that relationship. Or all the fights we had because for years I wouldn't let it drop. I couldn't imagine my mother not speaking to me. The pain he suffered through because he felt unwanted, all the tears he shed. I'd do anything to erase that time for them both.

So I went up to her (his mother) and told her I was sorry, then because it felt like it was the only way to get one... I asked her for a hug. She gave me one. I wish I didn't have to ask. I wish she could have just given it. She lost her first husband many years ago to suicide as well. I was hoping she understood how I felt. Maybe that was asking too much.

R and H who were my speakers were of course late. It made me happy. They were always late :).It was a small piece of normal in the surrealest event in the world as far as I was concerned.

Then when Allen's mother saw Ray she went up to him as though he were her other son, (Allen was an only child) and grabbed him and hugged him like she would never let go.

It hurt beyond measure.

My own mother saw my face when his mother hugged R and tried to take me in her arms. I told her not to dare touch me because I couldn't fall apart right now. I'd do it later (really I would) but not now, not in front of her. I didn't want her to see exactly how much that hurt. Allen didn't want me to. And I didn't want to.

I hugged R, H and R's wife A.

Then I walked up in front of the Urn display, thanked everyone for coming and introduced H.

The Ash Transfer

My sweet cousin DRG had made all of the arragements for me with the funeral home, I just had to show up and ok them and sign all the papers. To get Allen into an urn for the service, I was going by the funeral home where DRG because he had told me he had an urn for me. I had also gotten a phone call the previous day from Allen's Aunt. She let me know that his grandmother was going to ask me for some of his ashes. I had decided to talk to DRG about it because really, I'd never known anyone who was cremated before and didn't know about sharing ashes or anything and... that's his line of work so I guessed he'd know all about it.

DRG was always my favorite cousin growing up. We are the same age and I'm still comfortable just talking about almost anything with him. He met me at my car and walked inside with me. He talked to make sure I was ok, I know he did. It was so sweet. He showed me the urn he had picked and wanted to make sure I liked it (I did) he showed me another... their most popular option and I HATED it. He asked if I wanted him to go to another room to transfer the ashes and I said no. I told him I worked at an animal hospital and was familiar with ashes, and well... I know it's not really my husband in the container, just his remains so I'm fine with being present. Then I told him about sharing the ashes and he went and got this tiny little urn that looked exactly like the big one. It was about the size of a salt shaker. And I said it was perfect. So he put ashes in both urns. There were still ashes left over in the shipping container. He also told me there was a metal plate in there with an id number on it that is required by law to be included for identification and he asked me if I wanted him to find it. I didn't.

I asked him not to seal the larger urn but he showed me how to do it when I was ready. I took my two urns and left to go to the service. Anyone would have gone with me for all that. Many had offered.

I don't really know why, but inside I knew I had to do it by myself. I needed to do it by myself, or just with Allen. I needed personal time. Time away from all those people who wanted to shield and protect me. I was being so specific with who I spent time with and when I needed time to myself. Only certain people would really listen. I know everyone means well. I was developing friendships with people I had never met in person. Those people were becoming lifelines because they would just listen. They had no words except they were sorry, but they had ears. And sometimes it was easier to talk when the people had no other perception of me than a voice, or of typed emails.

At least they didn't see the red blotchy face, or the snot sliding down from my nose. (ick)

I didn't cry on the drive to the park. I breathed deeply and tried to hold my head up, so Allen would be proud. It was taking every bit of strength I had to get myself there and through the day... I was sure of it.

On the Road...and privacy...

Mama and I loaded everything up into the car. It was Saturday. I don't know why I thought about that, but I did. My plan was to drive my mother to her house and then drive back up to my friends' house. There at R's house he and his wife had promised to take care of me and Allen with whatever I should possibly need. My friend H was also coming over. R and H are some of my oldest friends. They love Allen with all of their hearts. Lots of people do. When we first all "left" college and we still lived near, they came over once a week. When we moved away, they visited as often as they could. We even went through Y2K together (lol).
My husband was an only child. He never really and truly understood in his head that R, H, J, A were like siblings. Truly like siblings. He always felt like he cared about them more. It's just because he couldn't understand why they would care back.
I had to change the plan somewhat before taking mother home. I started watching the time. It was Saturday. At 2:36 just two Saturday's before it was the last time I spoke to him. I needed to be alone. I would be in the car for that time, but I needed Mom out. I didn't want her to be with me because I didn't know what I would do. If I was alone, I could pull over. I have no idea why I didn't want comfort. Or maybe I did.

There was really nothing she could do. No words she could say. It wasn't her arms I wanted to hold me. It's not something Mommy can make better. No one understands that.
I don't mind crying in front of people but I want to be held, by someone who loves me. In a non parental way. Someone who can just accept that this hurts, and hold me until I can stop the crying. Someone who thinks it's ok, and knows I will be ok. I didn't want my Mommy, and I know that it has hurt her over and over again, but she can't offer the comfort I wanted. She didn't know Allen the way I did. Nobody knew him as well as I did, and the more I learn the more I know I didn't know him as well as I thought.

I got my sisters to meet me at the exit near my Mom's and pick her up. That way I could have time to grieve in the car before I got to R's. I knew he wouldn't mind... that if I told him even maybe he could understand... but at least I could deal with it in my own way. Everyone was wanting to help, to keep me from being alone. I understand why. I know that no one wanted me to hurt alone... but dear God, sometimes you just want to be alone, to feel it and not worry about someone squabbling about how everything is going to be alright.

I know everything IS going to be alright, but for just a frigging minute or two, I wasnt it to be ok to not be alright. And to be sad  and for people to understand that even if you love me, I'm still going to hurt a little, a lot... and I need it. I need the pain so I can remember how much it was... 15 years, YEARS... of trying to be the perfect wife for him. Not the perfect wife as on tv, but the perfect wife of someone with special needs. To be sad for all that I didn't do that I had in my life plan.

Because in the great scheme of things I had decided that the thing I wanted most out of life was to be the best wife Allen could ever hope for. That was what I wanted, at whatever cost. It was what I did.

And Mom got in the car with my sisters.

I got to be alone at 2:36.

I sobbed great big tears, great big blue tears as it turned out. I had put on makeup that morning so I didn't look so much like the Zombie I felt like. I went into R's house and straight down to the basement. They got me water, baked me possibly the best cookies in the world, and R and his wife took turns holding on to me while I cried some more. They listened, they talked, they cried. They let me play with their sweet boys when I wanted to and they left me alone, but were near enough if I called, they came. It was just what I needed at the time. I didn't lack for any creature comfort. They didn't fuss at me to do anything, they didn't try to tell me it was going to get better. They were just there for me.

And it was awesome.

The Pickup

It was several days between viewing the body and getting to pick up the cremains. I already said I work in an animal hospital, when animals are cremated by the place our hospital recommends, the cremains are returned in a pretty white gift bag. The container inside the bag has been picked out by the owner....

I told the ladies I worked with I would need a gift bag for my shipping container (my cousin was getting me an urn from his funeral home). I had only had one other experience with human cremains. I used to work at a Mail-Boxes-Etc. One time when I worked there someone called and asked if I would ship human cremains, and I said yes. They were brought in a cardboard box, which I put carefully inside another and packed it with styrofoam shipping peanuts and labelled and sent them off. I didn't think it was weird. I didn't even ask why. 

When Allen was ready my Mama went with me to pick up the cremains. I took the gift bag with me, and went inside. They took me to this room and I didn't know that was going to happen. I was REALLY FREAKED OUT. It was some sort of little sitting area with tissues and books and low lighting and well, weird. It reminded me of some sort of pastor's waiting area. They told me I could sit there as long as I liked. I asked if I had to. 

The nice lady was taken aback and said no, I didn't have to. I asked if he was already in there and she told me the container was on the table to the right (it was blocked by the door) so I walked in, looked at the container and said something like "No, I'm good, I'd like to just take him and leave."

These poor sweet souls who work at the funeral home. I know they thought I either was or needed medication of all sorts. She brought out this awesome bag, with velcro and zippers and a nice strong handle, put the shipping container (which is industrial and super cool looking btw) inside and handed me the bag. 

That's how I took him home. I put him by the fireplace for a while, still in the bag. The rest of the day went by and it got to be bedtime. My Mama asked me to take him upstairs or somewhere because she was a little creeped out at the thought of sleeping in the same room as his ashes. I carried the shipping container upstairs and tucked it into the covers. I told him goodnight and then I tried to get some sleep. The next day involved driving to Birmingham to carry him to his funeral service and to visit with our oldest and dearest friends.

After the viewing

After I saw the body, I went home. I felt better than I had in a while. I had friends calling to check on me as soon as I turned the phone ringer on. I was with my mom, sisters and bestie. I was as ok as I could be. It seemed to take forever to get home. I know they made me eat that night. I started making arrangements for a service in earnest. I had decided on cremation because that was the last option we had discussed. I had told him I wanted to be cremated because it was the only way I knew to not be embalmed so my body would return to the earth like I feel it should. He said that was good with him because it was cheaper and  he didn't really like the idea of embalming (um, once I explained what happened).
He had left a note for me to donate his body to science. But I didn't feel like he really meant it. It wasn't anything we had ever discussed and it wasn't a decision I felt like I could live with. I needed some closure to what happened to his body. I needed to know where it was going when. I'm sharing this now so you can know, in case you have any doubts. I know I did the right thing. It was all I could do, so I did it.

Allen did not want a funeral. So we had a memorial service. I called our two oldest friends from college. I asked them each to pick something to read. One of my sisters had told me when she saw me that she had prayed all the way to my house to ask God why or for the words she was supposed to have (sorry, I don't remember exactly what happened, but I'm trying...) and she said the only thing that came to her was the end of the 23rd Psalm "...and  I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever...." This of course made me cry. I had lived my whole life believing that if you kill yourself, it's a ticket straight to hell. I lived believing that everyday except the day my own spouse took his life.

Perspective is a powerful thing.

Before I also would have denied being able to be a strong woman for myself. I would have told you I could do it for my spouse, my dog, my family or my friends, but never for me...

Viewing the Body

So it was a couple of days before I was able to go and see him. The funeral home had given me his clothing from the morgue (I was looking for his wallet and a jacket that were missing from the house, they weren't in there). I learned that death smells the same for all creatures when they gave me his clothes.

I work in an animal hospital. Animals die, they come to us that way sometimes after having been at home for hours. There is a smell. A very particular smell. At work we call it death. Sometimes you can smell it before the animal has even passed. The clothes I was given were full of that smell. I didn't know to expect it, or I wish I hadn't known what it was.

Many people had told me not to go and see his body. My neighbor who had found it said it was horrible and I didn't need that memory. The man who transported his body from my home is friends with one of my coworkers. She had talked to him and he begged her to keep me from seeing him. I had to.

When I was growing up, my grandmother always told me when people died, I needed to go and touch them, see them. She said it would keep me from having bad dreams about them. I have touched every dead body I've seen. I wanted to see him. I wanted my whole mind to understand that he was never coming back. I needed it to be real because everything that had happened had just been so surreal.

I have no idea what the funeral home did to his body. He was so lovely to look at. I had told my mother it was probably going to be scary and gross, because that is what I believed from what I had been told. It wasn't. My sister's and my bff wouldn't let me be there alone, although they did let me go see first, because I asked them to. He looked very much like himself, with his eyes and lips glued shut. They had sprayed him with some sort of strong deodorizer to get rid of the death smell. They had combed and sprayed his hair so wrong, but I fixed that. He was pliable to touch and so cold. Like a sweet day sleeping vampire. I sent one of my sister's to tell my Mom it was ok for her to see... that he wasn't gross or scary. So Mom came in to see. I kissed him and touched him and talked to him. I cried. I told him I was so happy he didn't hurt anymore but that this was really hard and I wasn't happy to be going through all this.

I know it was a body. Not him, but his body, but to touch and know on a cellular level that the life was gone. It did a great deal to help the hole in my heart. Different people need different things for acceptance. I needed the finality of seeing it. Then I did something that I thought only my insane mother did. I took pictures of the body. I took a lot of pictures. Most of them with my bestie's camera which she had in her purse. I took a few with my phone. I thought other's might need to see the body. It was the same concept as the polaroids that my sister n law gave me when I got married (I was married before everyone had a digital camera LOL or a phone that snapped photos to carry around). I enjoyed those photos my whole honeymoon, because they made me realize that yes, I'm married... these made me realize he's gone.

The One About the Funeral Home

The visit to the funeral home was an ordeal. I tried to be very unemotional and business minded. I had stuff to do. I can do stuff. I can get through it. The poor little man at the funeral home never had a chance.

I am fortunate to have a large family which includes a cousin that works in a funeral home. I called him to find out who I needed to use in my own state and he basically took info on what I wanted and set everything up. When we went to meet with my director we did very little talking. I told him he already had my instructions, I didn't want to look at anything. I just asked if there was anyway I could see the body before the cremation took place. I told him I understood it may be a very bad experience, but I needed to do it for myself and that it didn't have to be anything fancy.

I was told that because he was being cremated and we didn't want an official viewing that only the family would be allowed in. Then I paid for the services. The poor little man, it was so funny. I paid him in cash then asked for a receipt. He told me it would be a little while because he'd have to copy the cash with their copier. I told him how to lay out the bills and what percentage to reduce it to so he'd only have to make one copy (my sister cracked up, we used to work at a print and copy shop together when I was in college).

When he left the room some other guy came in to talk to me about the awesome bookmarks they would make for me to hand out. I said no thank you. The man looked like he was going to cry. I explained that I had some nice bookmarks of deceased relatives and felt awkward and didn't really know what to do with them so thanks but no thanks. Then he asked if he could make us some cookies and I told him yes. (I mean he looked like he was going to cry over those bookmarks, what else could I say).

Then I got copies of all the paperwork I had signed and copies of the money, then we got cookies in little to go baggies. And we left. It felt like it had taken all day, but really it was just a few hours.

I have no idea what else happened that day.
I know we slept in a floor pallet again that night.

Missing, Finally

I mentioned that things were taken, I was told they would be returned eventually but that since I didn't get a list of what was taken, the night they were taken, that I couldn't and I'd get the list along with my items when the police were finished with them. I didn't know when the body was being released to the funeral home, or when the coroner might be finished, but I had told my Mom she could come up in a few days. I don't even know how to tell you how slowly time passed. The days literally felt neverendingly long in the beginning, then long but full of too much to do later and I was still exhausted. I woke up exhausted, I simply fell asleep from exhaustion and tears. When my Mom and sisters came, they followed orders and made sure that I ate, we all slept in a pallet together in the floor the way we did when I was little and the power went out :).

They didn't leave me alone. 

That part was nice. Although they did understand if I was touchy or they would take the phone when I couldn't make words anymore. They made phonecalls I hadn't been able to make myself but needed a relative or someone I could trust with my social security number to make. They helped me make sure I looked presentable in public. They were awesome, but they had listened and come when I asked. I appreciated this so much. So many people had come by. And all of the visits were great. People brought food, which was also great. I don't know if I could have put together a sandwich for myself at the time, but I didn't need to. I only had to say what I felt like I could swallow. Nothing tasted good, not even things I asked for specifically. I felt like my life was in holding. But things were about to start happening. The rollercoaster was almost at the top of the hill.

The Changing of the Guard

So for the next several days, the ladies I worked with snapped into place. It actually started right after her died. The troops were mobilized. My bestie was included and people arranged for me to NOT BE ALONE. I could go to my room for a while if I liked, they could check on me there, I spent a lot of time on the couch, by the phone charger. I mostly answered the phone and said that I had no clue when things would happen. Everyone wanted to know about "arrangements" and I had no clue. I had been told that it might be more than a week before I got the remains from the police. I didn't know how to act or what to tell people. Everyone wanted to know what was taking so long. My Mama wanted to come see me, I wanted to be alone. I wasn't allowed to be alone (I am pretty sure that it's a good idea that I wasn't left alone, but I really did want to be alone.) I was depressed and wallowing in misery. It was so hard to eat anything but there was some sort of rule I was required to eat food twice per day... and that's pretty much what I stuck to. I wouldn't be forced into more... the twice per day was hard enough. I wasn't hungry I was just so sad and tired. It was hard to rest. I know I was sleeping but actual rest didn't seem to happen. There were people trying to help me get a list of what the police took, people in the department trying to help me get my laptop back, which didn't happen for a long time.
It was a complete mess. And again I was so sad.

After November 26...or possibly the 27th

I didn't even lay down to sleep until 3am on the 27th. I had gotten to walk back over to my home about 11 or midnight, I'm not even sure. I sent one set of friends home, the ones that lived the closest. I thanked them for coming and told them to go get rest. My besties came from hours away, and they I allowed to stay. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want company either. This was the best I could do. I felt so tired, so numb and hurt at the same time. I didn't know what I was going to do. I felt heartsick, alone, scared, sad. Did I say alone? I felt overwhelmed. The police had taken random things from my home. They didn't leave me a list of what they took. They took my personal laptop, notebooks, the hard drive, Allen's jacket, and what else I don't know. Some of it has finally been returned to me, some of it they have no record of taking, my laptop was the most important thing to me, it has the photos. They were backed up on the hard drive, so I do hate that it's gone... but oh well.

That is another story though. Today's is about how I was feeling. I had made so many phone calls the night before, all of them were hard and awkward. Allen's family was the worst. I knew people were going to be so upset and hurt, I was hurting and it was so fresh and he didn't have a good relationship with his parents. Not for a long, long time. I couldn't tell them everything they wanted to know. I couldn't tell them what they wanted to hear. No one could. They asked me to put someone else on the phone. They asked so many people what Allen and I were fighting about. We weren't fighting about anything.

I think that was too much for them at the time. I wanted to place blame as well, but couldn't. He was depressed. He had suffered from depression for as long as I knew him. He had tried to kill himself in college. Funny, he just recently found out that I was the one who called to have people take him to the hospital and have his stomach pumped. I always thought he knew... he didn't until we talked about it not too long before he died.

So much was spinning through my mind. I had upset my mother (possibly more of my family). She was upset because I demanded that she not come up to take care of me. I didn't know yet what to do, I was confused and overwhelmed. I had people watching me like I was a baby bird or something and might freeze to death if left to myself. I didn't need more people around me. I wasn't trying to hurt her, but there were so many things that I couldn't do by myself. Have a clear thought was one. My house was a wreck. It looked exactly like two depressed people had been living there for months. I didn't want my family to see it. I was ashamed. Ashamed I had let things get so bad. Ashamed that I couldn't make myself get up and do something. I did call the one friend I knew could make the mess look more presentable. She came right away. She threw stuff in boxes, I didn't have to lift a finger.

I couldn't, it was hard to move, the phone kept ringing and ringing. I was trying my best to offer comfort to family and friends. I know it wasn't my fault. There was no doubt in my mind. I didn't drive him to it. He had told me for years I was the only reason he was still alive. That I was the one good thing in his life. Then I would point out all of the other good things in his life. The people he loved and those that loved him. The ones he wouldn't let love him who wanted to.

I was numb and heartsick and in pain. I wanted some rules, I wanted a timeline. No one could tell me when the coroner would be finished with the body, I didn't know when I could make funeral arrangements. I didn't have any of the answers people wanted. I tried to let other people answer the phone but so many people wanted to hear my voice. I still wouldn't let my family come. I didn't understand how much I was hurting my mother, but I also couldn't explain to people how much I was hurting. People gave me medication to "help" me through the days... A friend gave me sleeping pills because I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to sleep. But I was so tired. The days then started blurring together...

November 26...

Saturday, November 26, 2011. It started like any other Saturday where I had to work the split and petsit. I woke up really early, went to the petsitting houses and took care of the pets. Then I went to work for an hour or so to take care of the pets there. Then home. Allen woke up about noon and we watched some sort of tv program together on Hulu. Then he went to get ready for work. I'm sure we ate lunch together. It's what we usually did. He had to be at work before me. Before he left he told me that I wouldn't be able to call him at work until after 5pm (which is a little strange) he said they would be working in the printer room running some reports so he wouldn't be able to hear to talk. I said I understood. Then he left. I got ready to go back for the afternoon shift, and as I was walking to the door my neighbor called and asked me to walk over for some reason.

I don't remember why.

I remember I walked over and we chatted then I said I had to go I was running late.
I got in my car and as I was leaving our little neighborhood, I saw Allen's car. He stopped. I told him I was running late and he said he had forgotten his keycard and couldn't get into work. I looked at the clock in my car. 2:36
He reminded me he wouldn't be able to talk on the phone. I said thanks for the reminder and told him I loved him. He told me he loved me. Then he drove towards the house and I went on to work. I worked the shift at work, then did my petsitting. Then I dialed his cellphone number.

There was no answer. Then I called his work number. I was told he called in sick. I called my neighbor. I asked him to just look outside and see if the car was there. I was hysterical, crying, I knew something was wrong.

My neighbor wasn't home, he told me he'd meet me there and not to go to my house until he got there. Then he hung up. I called my best girlfriend, told her what was going on and told her to please talk to me until I got home, that I was crying way too hard on my own to drive.

When I got home my neighbor had already gotten home and was walking towards my house. I slowed down, saw Allen's car in the drive and then noticed the garage light was on. My neighbor then ran up to the garage door and back to my car (it all happened so fast and so slow in my mind). He told me to take my car to his house, that I couldn't go to my house. He didn't want to tell me why.

I asked him if there was a body in the garage and he told me to just go home.
I told him to just tell me if it was Allen and if he was dead and I would go.
So he said yes.

I drove up to his house and parked my car. I called the closest people I could think of to come and be with me because my neighbor said he had to make calls and I needed to not be around what was about to happen. I had hung up on my best friend at some point, so I called her back and told her to get here now... she lives a couple plus hours away.

The other stuff is a blur. My friends came, I cried uncontrollably. The police had to talk to me, they searched my home while I wasn't there. They tried to make me eat, there were so many people to call. I finally consented to go get food for people, I know everyone else was hungry and when I ate a little they left me alone. The night had passed, it was the wee hours of the morning before I would consent to lay down. I had broken my mother's heart by telling her to stay home tonight. I didn't want anyone around at that point, but the people around weren't leaving me. I didn't want more. I didn't want to spend the night at my neighbor's I wanted to go home.

I went home, my friends followed me home. It was a long long time before the sun came up. I slept maybe an hour or two with horrible dreams of what he must have looked like.
I felt like everything had been drained from me but the tears would still come if I just let them.

November 25

This Friday was a super busy one for me. I worked, I hit some of the Black Friday sales (ok, one but an important one at my local scrapbook store) and then I went home to spend some quality time with my spouse before going back for my second shift at work. He seemed really down and asked me if he could call in to work because he wasn't feeling well enough to go in. I told him that it was up to him, but that he had been calling in a lot and I thought if he went in, he would probably feel better.

November 24, 2011

Here's how it started:

Thanksgiving came and went. It's my favorite holiday. There's food and spending time with loved ones. No pressure of presents, we only go where we want for Thanksgiving or have people over so there's no pressure of seeing people who stress us out. It's all good. We had Thanksgiving at home alone this year. We had plans for company, but it didn't pan out. Allen had been learning to cook more and more this year thanks to the Pioneer Woman Blog and he wanted to learn to make dressing. Real southern dressing. I make it, but don't really use a recipe. So we made it together, and it was wonderful, messy and fun. He made a lemon pie from scratch. I cooked the turkey and made dumplings. The food was great. We ate it Thursday, Friday and Saturday... for lunch anyway :).

I work at a vet clinic and do petsitting on the side. On Thanksgiving, after we ate lunch and it was time, I took Allen with me to my petsitting jobs. He loved animals and really seemed to enjoy petting the dogs and cats and talking about their care. We have pets, but of course the ones I sit require different sorts of care than ours. He asked a lot of questions about how long everything took and wanted to know if it would take so long every time all weekend. I was excited he was so interested in what I was doing.

Not much else happened that day. I think we watched something on Hulu, then I went to bed early because I had to go to work early on Friday.