My Love

Guilt is threatening to take me over tonight.

Having gone Christmas shopping this past weekend and this evening has made me feel as though I have completely disrespected Chris’ hatred for the holiday. I never hated Christmas, but Chris hated it so much that it was always difficult for me to feel good about buying gifts for people. He didn’t hate the holiday, itself, or being around his loved ones. He was only against the commercialism of Christmas. I am not. So why do I feel like I have done something wrong?

It isn’t fair that on top of the grief, sadness, loneliness, trauma and anger that I feel, that guilt seeps into the mix wherever there is room. When I’m feeling guilty, which is usually the case, I have butterflies in my stomach, I feel like crying but I can’t and I hate myself. I feel as though I am going against Chris’ wishes and I can no longer explain to him that I actually enjoy the holiday season. W/hen he was here, I could do that and he understood. He was so good. Now, I feel like wherever he his, he’s mad at me. I don’t want him to be mad at me. I don’t know how to stop feeling guilty.

I still view my money as “our” money. That’s six years of conditioning I can’t break. I don’t want to break it. I want Chris to come back and hate Christmas. I want him to come back and worry about money.

I hate being alone. I cry too much. I can’t help myself. Everybody keeps telling me that it’s still early, it’s still going to take time, it’s still new.

I t d o e s n ‘ t f e e l n e w.

I hate this. I’m losing sight of the reasons I usually gave in to Chris. I loved him. That’s why. There are no words to describe how I felt when the stress went out of his face and was replaced by a smile. I possessed the ability to calm Chris and seeing him calmed, in turn, calmed me. I don’t want anyone to ever think he was anything but wonderful to me. He was perfect for me. My perfect man.

In a lot of my grief books, people mention that when a spouse dies, a common behavior for the widow is to place her deceased loved one on a pedestal and talk only about how wonderful her husband was. I’m not doing that. My husband really was wonderful. Wonderful in his hatred for Christmas, in his fear of running out of money, in the way he got angry with me about my fear of bugs and in the way he got annoyed with me for having too much energy. He was wonderful in his technilogical know-how, his many voices, his appreciation for utter silliness. In his adorably shleppy walk, in the way he loved cooking shows and documentaries. All of those facets are gone from my life now. There is nobody to appreciate my offbeat humor and I am terrified that there never will be again and I'm also terrified that there might be again, someday and that I'll forget who my sweet Creej was. I'm caught right in the middle. Those things were real. They sometimes hurt, but I would give anything to know that he was in the other room fuming because he had to kill a centipede for me to stop me from freaking out.

I hate cancer. I know there is a part of me that still doesn’t understand that he’s never coming back. HE IS NEVER COMING BACK. Why is that so difficult for me to grasp?

I’m so empty without him. I can’t figure out what my purpose in life is. I would endure a lifetime of Christmas hatred if only to have him by my side again.

I am physically uncomfortable. My skin aches. My throat hurts. I’m exhausted but I’m unwilling to go to sleep. I will though, once the Ativan kicks in.

I sat on the couch for most of this evening, thinking about things I wanted to be doing. I didn’t do any of them. I couldn’t. I felt overwhelmed by the few things I wanted to do. I usually feel overwhelmed these days.

I want him back.

I just want him back.