A New Bathroom

I awakened out of a sound sleep Thursday morning at 3:00 AM and fell into the throes of an inconsolable spell of intense sorrow in which I remained for an hour and a half. I left my bed and walked around my apartment sobbing and hyperventilating, replaying scenes from the past two years of my life. I am still feeling trauma stemming from watching my husband’s health deteriorate, along with his faith, hope and ability to live a quality life. I thought about him in the hospital, wearing a Johnny, always so brave and unafraid, reassuring me that he was fine over and over again, smiling and just accepting each new procedure he had to endure.

I remember sitting in a breakfast restaurant in Brighton Center together one Sunday morning. We ordered breakfast and while we were sipping our coffee and waiting for our eggs and toast, I began to feel choked up. A surge of panic began to rise from within my gut and take hold of my throat, squeezing the breath out of me. I began to cry. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I was terrified and I said to Chris, “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not gonna died, Shneed.” he said, annoyed with my display of panic, probably frightened by it, and we ate breakfast. I felt awful for showing him my pain. He had so much pain of his own to deal with. But sometimes I needed him, even though it was he who needed help and support. Sometimes I just needed him to be there for me, to tell me it was okay and that he wasn’t going to die. I wish he didn’t die. I can still feel what our partnership felt like. It was so easy with Chris. He was so easy to be with, even when he was difficult to be with.

Today, I went out and bought a new bathroom set. I bought a shower curtain, rugs, toilet seat cover, towels, soap dispenser, tissue box and a new trash barrel. When I was in Target picking it all out, I became horrified of the money I was about to spend. I told Meira that I felt sick and wanted to put everything back. She asked me why and I replied, “Chris would be so mad at me for spending this. I don’t even really need a new bathroom set.”

I then remembered that I just got paid $160 for the show I just did and remembered that Chris would have said I should use that money to buy whatever I want. “Just blow it Shneed.” he would say. “It’s free money.” I felt better and continued putting pieces together for my new bathroom scheme. When I got to the registers, I realized my entire body was trembling. I felt so afraid. It’s awful to know that I can do whatever the fuck I feel like doing and buying and saying and that the reason is because the man I shared my life with and worked together at being a couple with is not here to stop me, anymore. I hate it. I would put every single item in my apartment back on the shelf if Chris was alive to still be with me, now. I’d never need another stupid material item ever again.

It was time to change my shower curtain and the rest of my bathroom set. the towels I bought when Chris was still alive, and the rugs as well. The rugs hold a nightmarish memory for me and it was time to remove them and replace everything with new stuff and new hope.

The shower curtain I took down tonight is the one I bought while I was still living in my old apartment that I shared with Chris. I was in a total grief-fog, shopping at Kohl’s with Carol. I bought that shower curtain that day, eight months before I moved out, as a promise to myself that I would be in a new apartment once my lease ran out. Our apartment had a shower door and didn’t use a curtain. I remember I couldn’t buy clothes because I didn’t know who I was anymore or what I liked to wear and because I had nobody to wear anything for anymore. I used to put on a fashion show for Chris everytime I went shopping. He always knew what to say about each article of clothing that I subjected him to and he was such a sport at being my spectator. Once in a while I would reward him by trying on my new three inch heels...just my new three inch heels and parade out into the living room to show him and to basically thank him for being such a good sport. Boy, we had fun together.

I have a date Tuesday evening with a man who e-mailed me on Match.com. He has a very funny sense of humor. He makes me laugh. He’s a musical theater director and so far, I like him, which makes me very sad. Part of me never wants to like anybody again. I feel like I’m throwing in the towel, giving up on my husband, admitting that he’s not coming home to me and so, very reluctantly taking a step forward. I don’t want any of it. I just want Chris back. I accidentally said his name out loud the other night, “Christopher Burrage” and that simple act, hearing his name out loud, made me feel euphoric. It was like he still existed on this plane. I miss him and I’m so sad that he’s gone.

I bought a new shirt for my date. I want to look pretty. How am I going to sit across from someone that isn’t Chris? Wherever he is, I hope he’s helping me and not hating me. I feel tremendous guilt, but it’s time for me to do this. I want companionship again and I want to love again -- even though I still just want to love Chris again. I don’t want somebody else.

If I never needed Clay before, I sure need him now.

This past weekend, I went to Hadley, MA to visit Chris’ father, Howard. He looks like he has been through it. When he saw me, he instantly apologized for not calling me and explained that he was going to but then he was scared and then he was going to but then he didn’t know what to say, etc...I asked him to please not feel badly about that. I didn’t call him either. I was scared, too. We talked a lot about Chris. Howard’s heart is so broken. He is living in a nursing home now suffering from congestive heart failure and emphysema. He thinks he’s going to get to go home eventually, but that isn’t likely to happen. I feel so badly for him. He had such a horrible time throughout his life with bipolar disorder and depression and then he lost his son. He’s so sad. Beth said that Howard has never talked about Chris since his death. The other day, he and I talked exclusively about Chris and in great depth. He told me that it’s always with him and sometimes it’s so heavy, right in his chest. I told him that I feel the same way. He then said to me, “I don’t know how you do it. I honestly don’t know how you do it.” I said to him, “You wanna know how I do it? Your son was a beautiful, wonderful, patient, encouraging person who loved me very much. That’s how I do it. He gave that to me. He gave me strength, courage and love that I carry inside of me. Chris is inside of me. .That’s how I do it, Howard.” When I said that, Howard’s face lit up into a beautiful smile. He looked so happy. I told him how much Chris was like him. They both have the same sense of humor and the same sort of demeanor. Chris even had Howard’s legs. I told him that and then I said, “Nice gams, Howard.” He laughed out loud.

I think and I hope that I helped him in some way. I want to help him more. I’m going to go back and visit him again and talk with him about Chris. I loved his son more than I can ever, ever express in words. I loved him more than I can ever express in any way.

I’m scared. This guy I’m going on a date with is so nice and funny and cute and talented, but he’s not my Creejie and I’m going to have a really tough time pushing past that. I feel as though Chris is being ripped out of my soul, like a giant great white shark has taken a bite out of my soul and ripped it off and swam away with it, leaving me screaming and trying to swim and stay afloat. At the present moment, if another man was in the water with me and I could grab hold of him to stay above water, I would opt to drown, rather than wrap my soul around anyone other than Chris.

Please don’t be mad at me, Creej. I need you. I love you.

Oh, this guy has no idea what he’s in for. I’m just going to have fun and know that I have no intention of falling love with him.

I have so many pictures of Chris. I’m not putting them away and I’m afraid that that’s going to be a problem for some men. I’m not putting Chris in a closet somewhere where I can’t look at him and see who he was and who we were together. I won’t do it.