I Want My Fucking Mulligan

Granted, a lot of this is the wine and the Sudafed talking but DAMN, I miss him. How am I supposed to get through the rest of my life? I am so incredibly sad. I know I hide it well. It’s been a fucking year. On the surface everyone thinks I’m sooooo strong and have it sooooo together. And I think on a day to day basis and for the most part, I am and I do. Al would be proud of me.

But what people don’t see is the real me, the me that feels so abandoned. So incredibly alone. I let you think I’m good and that I’ve got a handle on this. Sure, I’m ready to move forward. But what you don’t know is that it’s all a façade. I know, a year. I should be in a different place now. But I have weak moments like you have weak moments. Except my weak moments can’t be fixed with a kind word and a gentle touch. Because you see…there is no one there to offer that kind word and gentle touch. It's probably a good thing I don't believe in God & Jesus (don't judge until you've walked a mile in my shoes) because this whole experience would surely turn me away from that blind faith.

I feel angry. Angry that this is who I’ve become. This is NOT supposed to be the way my life plays out. I’m not angry at Al. He pushed beyond what any normal man would have done to live his last years with me. He was in constant pain and he pushed past it as best he could to give us some semblance of a normal life. He worked, standing on legs that wanted nothing more than to crumble under the weight of his body. He withstood long, painful hours working at a job he didn’t enjoy just to pay the bills.

Now he’s gone and I struggle. I’m barely paying the bills. I’m barely getting through this. It would be so easy to give up and give in. But that’s not what my husband did. He persevered. And so will I.

I look at his picture and I can’t quite believe that’s all I have left of his face. Pictures. What should I do? Put away all the pictures so it doesn’t hurt so much?

I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Yeah, no. I’m not thinking THAT way. I just feel so empty. You know how they say there’s no handbook on raising your children. You just do it and you learn as you go. Much like that, there’s no handbook on learning to live your life after your love dies. What do I do now? I hate this. It’s not fair. It’s not right. I want a do-over. A mulligan. Where’s my mulligan?