I’ve actually been writing for quite some time and as of today, decided to share my writings via blog. Today marks the forth month since Sean’s death so I suppose I’m channeling my feelings into doing something productive/distracting myself. This was the first thing I’d written since Sean died. It was written on 1/2/2017 just nine days after his death. Looking back from then to now is interesting- I can physically see how my feelings have changed, maybe not changed- but evolved.
I’m still mad as hell but only feel a quarter as guilty.
Ok, maybe half.
From 1/2/2017 “First Entry”
I feel selfish in my grief, everyone keeps telling me how sorry they are and asking how they can help and I want to scream at them to “fuck off”, I’m so sick of everyone looking at me with their sad eyes because I’m the lady with the dead husband. I hate everyone in their stupid happiness because how dare they- how dare they be happy when I am so consumed with the feelings of loneliness and despair. How dare they continue to live their lives as if nothing has changed when my life, my family is so broken.
It took me days to even look anyone in the eye, let alone touch people, or be touched. Because right now even the thought of human touch repulses me because the only person I want to touch is him. I feel like a child because I’m so hurt, so angry that I just want to scream until my throat is raw and cry and break dishes but instead all I can do is lay on the couch in my parent’s front room and sob silently into a dirty Superman T-shirt that still smells like him and listen to his son breathe next to me and feel his child move within me.
This is all I have now, dirty shirts- just things and memories and it’s not enough- it’ll never be enough, and I just want to scream at everyone how unfair it is. How am I supposed to raise two children, one not yet born, without their father? It’s so unfair to them. It’s so unfair to me. That at twenty-four I’m a widow. That I have to start my entire life over again and raise two children without their father. That the past six years of our beautiful life, home and family are gone in an instant. It’s so unfair to me that the day she’s born will be both the best and worst day of my life. And that every holiday, every big event- the day they graduate, they day they get married- oh, the day she gets married- who will walk her down the aisle? Who will take her to daddy-daughter dances? Who will teach him how to drive and how to be a man? Every big event, will be both the best and worst day of my life. Because my heart will be filled with such joy in their accomplishments and such sorrow that their daddy isn’t there to see them.
I’m so angry.
Angry with myself. Everyone keeps saying “It’s not your fault, how could you have known?” But that’s just the thing. How could I NOT have known? I spent more time with him than anyone else, I could see his hurt, his suffering and I did nothing. Maybe there wasn’t anything I could do. Maybe there was. I’ll never know. There’s so many things I’ll never know. And I’ll never understand.
Angry with him. For leaving me with this hurt. For leaving his son and his unborn daughter. I’ll never understand how in all the time it took for him to walk there, that he couldn’t have reconsidered. When he got there, did he do it quickly? Or did he sit there and mull it over. I hope he did it quickly. If he took the time to reconsider and still chose the way he did I think it would make me more angry. Maybe when you’re in that moment though, that’s all you can think about, and you become so apathetic to your own existence that nothing else matters. Still though- I wish I knew. There are so many unknowns in my life right now and it makes my heart heavy with worry. We had a beautiful life, a home, a family. And now it’s all gone. Six years, gone in an instant. It takes a long time to get to know someone the way we knew one another and it feels like the man I thought I knew would never do this to me, to his family. I stare at pictures of him and it feels like I don’t even know who that person is. I feel like our marriage that was built solid on love and trust was all a fallacy, that my trust was betrayed.
Despite feeling this way, I know this is untrue. I know he loved me, loved his son and was filled with such wonder and love in watching his daughter grow within me. Which is why it hurts so God damn bad.
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