I want to make it clear, first, that I am not “miserable.” I am just not happy. Everyone has their advice on how I can be happier, including faking it, which I do and have done very, very well. I even feel it most of the time when I’m with other people. It’s just those little moments I get choked up, or when I have time to actually think, or when I see your picture, or when something reminds me of you, and most of the time, I don’t even know when or where that will happen–it’s then I cry and cry and cry and cry. No one’s advice has helped except one person I never really expected to be a help to me through this. There are others who offer no advice at all, they are just there and supportive, and those are people I hadn’t expected either. They are all people I met through the internet. I’ve met them in person, but only once, so I get really defensive when people talk about how bad the internet is for relationships. First, I met you through the internet–and I will never, ever say that was a bad thing, even if it caused me the most emotional pain I have ever experienced in my life. And these other people I met through the internet, I wouldn’t want to be deprived of them just because they are not people I see IRL every day.
I think maybe I’m crying because Erin isn’t here, and she doesn’t have to see it. Maybe I feel a little more free to cry without the kids here, but it still makes me feel broken and unhappy. Maybe I am broken. I’m not quite sure, and I’m not sure it actually matters.
I had been writing our biography, but I got to a place where I just can’t write it anymore. It just hurts too much right now.
I have your ashes beside me. I don’t know if I can put them in the containers they are supposed to go in to give to your brothers/sister and the special container I got for you. I have asked someone to do it for me, but I don’t know if they will yet.
I’m calling someone about counseling tomorrow. I’m also going to take a day, maybe two, off because I just am so deeply, emotionally exhausted and I don’t think I can sleep well without sleeping pills and I don’t think I can stay awake tomorrow if I take them. If I can pull myself together tomorrow, I will go back on Tuesday. I will talk to the lawyer and try to do the things I can’t do while I’m working.
Heavenly Father did clear the way for making this as ‘easy’ as possible on me, I know, and I can see all the little ways he’s done it, but it’s still not easy. I don’t think I’ve cried this much since that first week you actually passed. Maybe it’s hormones, mayve it’s your ashes, maybe it’s the weekend, maybe it’s the kids not being here, or a combination of all those things. Maybe I just really miss you and still love you so incredibly that I don’t want to think about 20 or 30 years without you.
I’ve decided I will work on the fantasy allegory of our life, the one we’d been making up as we went along “The Book of Calinor.” I’ll take it seriously and try to make it reflect us and our life, and maybe even our future. I don’t know yet.
I love you.
I wish there weren’t a veil between our worlds, though I suppose it would take all the faith out of being here.