I’m buying a T@b trailer. It will be my new home on the road. Yes, Handsome Husband would turn over in his grave (if he had one), seeing as I have spent the last 4 years adamantly against camping of any sort. This isn’t something I would choose if he were still alive but he isn’t here. I can’t imagine settling down without him, but I can’t continue traveling the way he and I did together. It’s financially not viable and I don’t want to become a country western song. Which is what I’d be emotionally, sitting in a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, alone. Godawfulfuckingalone. So, a T@b trailer…
Handsome Husband’s memorial service is in less than a month. I’m spending all the energy not required to get up in the morning on preparing it. Hour upon hour sees me at my computer, working on the slide show and program. Mostly I feel numb as I do these two things. Out-of-body. How can I possibly be planning a memorial service for a man who was so alive? A man who is supposed to be right next to me? My husband, for Christs’ sake?
Food sits like lead in my stomach and tastes like…well, nothing. I eat when my stomach tells me it’s time. I’m not doing so well with drinking water either. To the point I realized the other day that I’m dehydrated, which leads to insane headaches, which I have daily. And nightly. So I bought a BPA free Camelback the other day and I try to remember to mix in 4 drops of Star of Bethlehem, which is a Bach remedy for grief/trauma, whenever I fill it. I have huge emotional issues with food now (and yes, I struggled before he died with this). The grocery store is a marathon for me, just to get through it without breaking down. Handsome Husband’s food choices were so narrow in this last year as he fought the fungal infection and tried to build his immune system back and I spent so much time roaming the aisles, searching for anything new he could have. Vitamins. Supplements. Wheat free. Dairy free. Gluten free. Sugar free. Sodium free. The only thing not free was him. I hate that a man who loved to eat was reduced to a handful of choices. Even the water he drank was limited. It had to be in BPA free containers and we carried around a 5 gallon jug of filtered, UVA treated, metal-free, everyfuckingthing free water. There was nothing simple about it. There still isn’t for me, emotionally. I despise it.
I look so normal. A fair amount of the time I probably sound normal. I carry on conversations with people throughout the day and they see (I think), normal. But my voice, to me, sounds so much less than it used to. I feel heavier than I’ve ever felt and I know that’s sheer emotion. My eyes must convey what is going on internally but who knows? At the same time as I feel such pain, most day I’m just operating from a place of numbness.
Sunday will be 5 months since Handsome Husband died. In 24 years, he and I have never been apart this long. The thought of it, the knowledge that this apart-ness will only continue, fills me with horror. No, that isn’t too strong a term.
Apparently, dying of a broken heart isn’t easily done.