This is my 20th Sunday without her. (I guess it’s everyone’s 20th Sunday without her.)
So since I have very little to do in my life anymore, without her, I am sitting on the floor in our shared office going through all the folders I need to organize and file, because nothing goes with death and grief better than the mountains of paperwork that accompany it, as if any of it matters.
How am I supposed to focus on vacuuming when I’m doing my best to see everything that needs doing around the house and then I get ambushed by suddenly remembering the day you decided (or realized) you weren’t going to eat anymore
Katy died 100 days ago.
2 days (I think) after she died, I did laundry for some reason that I cannot possibly fathom or explain. She used to do the laundry; she always told me she liked doing the laundry, and I reluctantly went with it. I guess it was me getting right on with the fact that it was going to have to be me from now on.
This was the last time I did laundry that had some of her clothes in it.
I had about 36 hours without crying, I think, somehow.
That just ended with a packet from our accountant with our names handwritten on it.
Jesus fucking christ
We were married 20 months ago today.
We celebrated “monthiversaries” on the 7th of each month because Dana Farber didn’t think we’d even make it to our first anniversary. We did get to one, just one. There will never be another.
We would have celebrated today. “You should celebrate anyway!” you might say. How? Light a candle? Sit quietly and think about her? That’s pretty much all I do anyway. Do something you would have done with her?
My therapist suggested turning her photos down on my desk when I’m trying to work, just so I don’t see them constantly and so maybe I can focus more.
Yeah. Did that. Five seconds later I was on the floor bawling my eyes out.
Not ready. Put them back.
I can’t believe I have any fluid left in my body. Cried most of the day yesterday. Day 74. First new year’s without her.
Look… holidays are brutal when you’re grieving. They just are. You have to know this for the bereaved people in your life. There’s not much you can do.
Friends invited me over today for a wonderful Christmas gathering. The house was warm and full of kind people and spectacular food. They couldn’t have been nicer or more considerate. I felt the tears start to mount as soon as I stepped inside.
This is a smart idea. Standing here getting dressed, looks like I’m down to my “time to do laundry” warning socks. I really should separate out summer stuff from winter stuff in the dresser. Don’t really have room. Hey, it’s been a while since I opened her drawers, all down the right side. You know what would be a great idea? doing that. Go ahead, open her sock drawer and take a look.