None of my writings are intended to be pretty and magical. I’m grieving hard and there is no pretty about it. Anything I write is raw and directly from my heart, with no filter.
It would make me supremely happy if I could believe that Handsome Husband is anywhere around me, but I sense him nowhere except gone. Poof. Gone.
Tomorrow morning I’ll leave California, headed towards Arizona, to join 2 of our kids for the month of June. I want to leave. This is a place of pain for me, and the only reason I was ever here is because Handsome Husband was here. This was a place for us, not for me.
This is where I and Handsome Husband were last together. I look over at the couch and see him sitting there, me sitting next to him, late at night, rubbing his back to ease some of the pain.
I stand in the sunroom, gazing out to the mountains, searching out that light that caught my eye the first night we were here, the light that continued to catch my eye on those dark nights of worrying about him and what was going on. I’ve gazed at that light on the mountain every night since he died. It haunts me.Horror is a strong word to use, but its’ been in my vocabulary quite often recently. His cancer, his death, my being here alone, and now, my leaving.
Because I do want desperately to leave here. That desperation to leave is just as strong as the horror that knifes through my heart when I consider leaving here. Leaving him behind. Leaving us behind. This is where we were last together. I can’t feel him anywhere since his death, but at least he was here at one point. And there are just no words to describe the fear that clenches my heart at leaving us behind, going out on my own. Yes, yes, I know that I need to believe that I’m carrying him with me. But it doesn’t feel like that. What my heart is screaming to me is that I’m leaving my last physical link to him behind. And I can’t bear it.
I would like to say how brave I’m being, how strong, how I’m persevering through this, as he would want me to. I frequently debate whether I’m just feeling sorry for myself, because I would never want to do that. I hope I’m not doing that.
I’m not going to lie , to myself or anyone else. This has been a horror show in every way. Yes, I made damn sure his illness and death were as loving as could possibly be, and I believe I succeeded in that, and I’m glad for that. I’ll always be glad for that.
The horror, from the first day I took him to the ER, to his time in hospice, and the horror now that he’s dead and gone, and the final goodbye to him tomorrow morning as I point my car towards Arizona…I don’t know sometimes if I can bear this.
I don’t know where you are, D. You know where I am. Please find me.