Friday, October 02, 2009

How I am feeling today

I do not know how I am feeling today. I feel so raw, like all of my nerve endings are on the outside of my skin. My hands are shaking, and my stomach is in knots. There is nothing in particular that is making me feel this way, nothing more than the usual suckage.

Next Friday would have been my 10-year wedding anniversary. I hope this feeling is not the day looming over me. Patrick had so many grandiose plans for our 10 year. He wanted to take all of our loved ones to Paris, or throw a massive party. I don't know what I will do to mark the day now. My daughter has a cross-country run at her school, and work...

I have good days and bad days, but this feeling is a little foreign to me. Not quite sure if I can even attach an adjective to it, just raw. Time works against me it seems. I wish I could push it a year into the future, but would that even be enough? I am so lonely, I ache. I miss the feeling of skin next to mine, not even in a sexual way, well OK that too, but just the feeling of warm skin next to my skin. A hand in my hand. An arm against my arm. A leg draped over mine. I miss the intimacy more than I actually miss sex.

Mostly, I just miss everything I used to have, the person I used to be, the person I will never be again.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Gracefully skipping over the half-year post

I decided to ignore the 6-month mark since Patrick's death. I try not to think about the date, so that I do not subconsciously count how many days until the next. September 4th was 6 months. The day passed uneventfully, but I could not help thinking six months, half a year, over and over again.

I miss him so much. I feel like there is nothing left of the me I used to be in this body I live in. I do not do any of the things I did when Patrick was alive. So much has changed, we all have lost so much, him, ourselves.

I used to go to the gym and take care of myself. I used to go to nice restaurants for dinner with Patrick, we used to go to movies, go for bike rides on nice days. I don't do any of those things anymore.

In my defense, he left me to run his business, something I have yet to discuss here. I have a full-time job of my own, a full-time business to run, and a full-time job as a mom. Still, I think it is important to find myself in this shell of a body, to tell myself how important it is to take care of myself.

Here is to hoping that the next six months are just a little bit easier. Maybe I can start sleeping in our bed again. Maybe I can face going to his grave. Maybe I can sell his business. Maybe I can listen to my children, who tell me I do not laugh enough. Maybe I can allow myself to have a good cry when I need it.

Maybe the next six months won't be as bad as the last six have been...maybe.

Monday, August 31, 2009

School Days

Tomorrow is the first day of school. Another first...another first without Patrick.
I think one of the things that bother me most is when people say that they know a day will be hard for me without him, days like my birthday, or Father's Day. What they do not understand is that every single day is hard day. The funny thing is that it is not the milestone days that are the hard days, the hard day might come on a random Wednesday, when a movie we saw together is on TV, or when I see his handwriting somewhere. Those are the really bad days.

I had a dream last night that he came back to his business that I have been running for him for almost the past 6 months. He berated me in my dream for how far behind I am on fulfilling orders, and chastising me for business decisions I have been making. In the dream I tell him why we are behind, I tell him the 3-phase power went out for 2 weeks after I opened the business back up, and a machine was down for 3 weeks. In typical Patrick fashion, he was having none of my excuses. He wouldn't talk to me in the dream.

Last week I had a wonderful dream, we were dancing cheek to cheek, and he was warm and soft, not like the last time I touched him, at the funeral. I have a lot of those dreams, where we are out together, and I always think in my dream to touch his warm skin, and marvel at its warmth and softness. I am sure this stems from the fact that I wish I would have been able to touch him one more time when he was him, not a shell of what he used to be.

I have only cried a handful of times since the funeral, I don't know why. I read other blogs where spouses have several full-on, gut-wrentching cries. I cannot, or do I not let myself? I don't know if I have just so much with the business, and my job, and my kids that I do not let myself have the luxury of a good cry. I might just be suffering more than I let on. People say I am so strong, when really, I am just trying to survive, one hour at a time.

Anyway, this post started off to commemorate the first day of school. Tomorrow, my daughter, Patrick's daughter will start second grade. Next Tueday, my son, his son, will start K4. Why is he not here to share another milestone?

Monday, August 17, 2009


I had a really horrible day today. I attended a court ordered mediation for a lawsuit against my husband, that now belongs to me...thanks!

I had no idea Noodles & Company sells beer, now I know.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

End of Summer

Summer was Patrick's favorite time of year. The festivals, the swimming, we spent a lot of time outside. I am finding it very difficult to do those things without him. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just pick up and move somewhere else, somewhere without the constant reminders that he is not here anymore.

We went to the State Fair this week, probably Patrick's single-most favorite summer activity. I know stupid right? Buildings full of mops and vegtable slicers, and fried things on sticks, but he absolutely loved the fair. I went with my mother and sister-in-law and my kids. We really had a lovely time, but somewhere inside all of the time was this nagging feeling that he wasn't there. I feel so bad for him that he missed the summer, missed his son swimming under water for the first time, graduating from preschool to elementary school. Missed his beautiful daughter being his little scientist and analyzing bugs and nature. How much he will miss, and how much we will miss him.

We talked a lot about daddy at the fair, and all the things he did with them, and all the things he loved to eat and do, and I missed him so acutely, the pain was hard to bear.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

76 days

Today was the loveliest spring day, 81 degrees and sunny. Today was just the type of day that would make Patrick ask, are you sure you have to work today, 5 minutes later - are you sure? 10 minutes later - really, you have to work?
He loved to live his life to the fullest, trying to squeeze every minute out. He would often ask me on a day like today if we could take a bike ride during my lunch hour. Since I work basically from home, and rarely take a lunch hour, I would usually willingly oblige, with the clear direction that I needed to back in an hour. He would always try to push the envelope, stretching that time until I would make him turn back towards home. So many times I was frustrated and would think, "Doesn't he know how much work I have to do?" Now, even though I have infinitely more work to do, what I wouldn't give to push the envelope on a lunch hour with him.

I went to court on Monday to be named the head of his estate. I do so well every day, and then the stupidest thing will set me off. Sitting in court and hearing his name preceeded by the "estate of" was all it took. Big, hot tears pouring out of my eyes. Couldn't help it.

Now that I have the proper documents it is time to start moving things into his estate. I can't help feeling that I am violating him somehow by doing things like closing his bank account. He had that account before he had me, who am I to close it. It almost feels to me like I am wiping his presence from the earth, and I hate it! I know these are things that must be done, and I will do them and try not to look back.

I had another dream last night, he was wandering around the house talking to me, and I was thinking in my dream, "Thank God, he is not dead." The dreams make me wake up so empty, but will I be even emptier still when I don't have them anymore?

Sunday, May 17, 2009

74 days down,,,a lifetime to go

Today was a beautiful day, the blossoms are in full bloom and I took a drive with my sister and mother-in-law and took pictures of the kids with the brilliant spring colors. It was a day to truly appreciate, and I tried to do just that. I try to relish in every sight and smell, I know all too well that life is just too short. The kids just loved running down the trails in the park picking me the hugest bouquet of dandelions. All in all, today was a good day.

Today was also the last day of Sunday School, and i have to say that I couldn't be more glad! I love churh, I love MY church, but I have to say that I feel different there now. The pews are full of children with both parents, and it is hard for me to sit parent. It is just a painful reminder of what should have been in my life. The funniest thing is that Patrick didn't even go to church with us, but I guess there was always the possiblility that he could have when he wanted to. Now there is no chance of that, or anything else. I have never been so lonely in my life...ever.

I long to just be held by Patrick, to feel his strong arms holding me, safe and comfortable. I dream about him almost every night, we are having a normal conversation, talking about normal things. Sometimes in my dream, I turn to him and say, "You know you are dead, right?" Creepy right. But the thing that is always constant in the dreams is that he is warm and soft, not like the last time I was able to touch him and hold his hand. I miss him so badly, it hurts. I love the dreams because I am close to him, I hate the waking up, because I wake up alone, again.

I loathe the lonely nights, and weekends, and find myself looking forward to Monday, when I can start the 100mph pace that are my days, falling into bed at the end of the day exhausted. Tomorrow, day 75.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

7 weeks, 3 days ago

My life changed forever...
I knew Patrick for 18 years. This year we would have celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary. We have 2 beautiful children who turn 7 and 5 years old this year.

Patrick died on March 4, 2009, a sudden, tragic, senseless death. Someday when I can talk about it, I will.

So many people tell me how strong I am. I want to scream, "I am not strong, can't you people see I am trying to survive here!" I think I have switched into mother protecting her cubs mode, and cannot switch out.

The days and weeks surrounding Patrick's death have been surreal. How do you plan a funeral 2 days after your best friend dies? You think to yourself, how long is this torture going to continue as you sit in the funeral directors office, picking prayer cards, and casket liners. What f-ing difference does it make, do you realize my husband just died! In the end, his service was lovely and moving, and as my children and I walked behind his casket through the church, I was proud to have been his wife, proud to be holding his childrens' hands.

I think Patrick would have been mortified that I dressed him in his best suit, sprayed my favorite cologne on his lapels, and set him out for everyone to gawk at. I would have probably had him cremated, but because of the way he died, I needed to see him, to touch him, to tell him I hoped as he died he knew he was loved, to tell him how sorry I am that he died alone, to tell him that if I knew he was dying, I would have been there to hold him as his heart beat for the last time, to feel his last breath against my face, to hold him as his life left his body, because that is what he deserved. He did not deserve to die alone, on a cold, hard floor, waiting for someone to come and help him.

I live with that picture in my mind every single day, my vibrant, handsome, genius husband waiting for help, all alone. I try to push the picture out of my mind, and replace it with memoires that belong there, us riding a motorcycle around in Rome, walking the streets of Vegas at 4AM, riding roller coasters with our children. That is the Patrick I should be remembering, every minute of the day.

How exactly does one become a widow at 40? Widows are older women who had a whole lifetime of memories with their husbands, not the small handful I am left with. I ache for him that he will not see his children grow up to be the wonderful adults I know they will be. I ache for my children that they will live their whole lives without their father. I ache for me that I was robbed of a husband at 40 years old, that I did not get to grow old with the man that I loved. Mostly, I just ache.

Patrick, you are missed, every minute of every day.