6 weeks

It’s been a little more than 6 weeks since husband died. Life has continued for the rest of us. I struggle, daily, to keep a strong front for the children while I’m slowly dying inside.

I miss him. As I lay in bed after work, I find myself thinking about him. The tears wet my cheeks at the drop of a hat. It’s annoying, honestly. Today I was at the grocery store and someone asked if I was ok. Tears were streaming down my face and I hadn’t realised I was crying. I can’t seem to do anything but work without crying and even that is hard if someone says anything about my husband.

I started a new job last week. I’m now working as a shipping clerk in a tiny little company that treats me more like family than an employee. It’s very nice but very hard work. So many things I have to learn and it’s all on the job training. I come home exhausted every day. An hour nap and I’m a little better but man, the last hour of work is torture!

Youngest is struggling with his schooling. Not in the coursework but actually DOING it. He is so far behind in his classes that I worry he will fail even though his grades are awesome. I may have to put him in public school or get him a tutor.

Middle is feeling horrible. I think depression is gripping him. He is angry at husband for not apologizing for being so mean to him and cannot seem to let it go. Anger is common with him right now and I fear he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown. He has started therapy but I don’t think it’s the right kind.

Eldest is making me crazy. She REFUSES to do ANY chores. She is sleeping a LOT and has been late for work frequently in the past couple of weeks. It’s almost like she has NO work ethics. I truly don’t understand why it’s so damned hard for her to get out of bed lately. Is she just being defiant or is she depressed as well?


I have to remind myself that we are all grieving in our own way. I just wish I could help them but right now I’m barely holding on myself.


46 days and counting.


Drowning in Grief

There is so much to so today. Yesterday the autopsy was done. I struggled to breathe all day. It was like the life had been completely sucked out of me. I was supposed to make a million calls but only called his eye doctor so they would stop texting appointment reminders. I need to call the dentist, the bank, the bills are all in his name, Social security I’ll call Friday, when I get the death certificate…. I called the insurance company today only to find out there is no insurance on him. Only me and my son. Not any on our son. Tomorrow I have to go to the coroner’s office to pick up his things and the death certificate. Today I’m in contact with victim services to see about getting rental assistance and things like that.

Today, I’m crying as I pack away his clothing. I found his wedding ring and just bawled for half an hour. I’m not even sure why it’s not on his finger. I’m wearing it with my ring now. It feels right.  At this moment, I am laying down, writing and crying. I feel so empty inside. I feel sick to my stomach and so God awful tired. It’s been three days since he died and everything feels so WRONG. Why did he have to be taken from me?

He’s gone…

Today, at 3:30 AM, I found my husband dead, laying in the bed beside me. He was 57 years old.  After struggling with dementia, heart issues, stomach issues… He’s finally at rest.

Now, I have to help my 14 year old, type 1 diabetic, son through the process of grieving his father. In 10 days he will turn 15. How do I help him understand? Husband was very sick. This my son knew but I don’t think any of us expected him to be gone…. not yet…

Damnit it’s not fair. My son should be hugging his father, not burying him. I’m not supposed to be a widow, for the second fucking time, before I’m 50. We don’t even know what killed him!

So far I know of no insurance, no burial plots, no money to bury him and his name was on ALL the bills AND the bank account. No will. NOTHING.

The only good thing is: The last thing we said to eachother was “I love you”

The Symbiosis of Family

via Daily Prompt: Symbiosis

The relationship between myself and my children is truly symbiotic in nature. We give and take from eachother in ways that only we know. My children and I are close enough that we can finish eachothers sentences, we know what eachother are thinking much of the time and we pretty much like the same things. We feed off each others quirky natures and seem to understand the way the other is feeling, even when we aren’t physically together.

Take, for instance, last year. I was in Texas with my father, helping him and his wife while they went through cancer surgery and chemo treatments. I was, at the time, 1500 miles away from my eldest and youngest children. They had stayed in Colorado with my husband.

One particular morning, I woke up early.I was feeling overwhelmingly sad and couldn’t understand why. I sat down in the dark of the morning and closed my eyes, looking with my inner eyes. I “saw” my apartment and looked in on my sleeping husband, seeing my dog laying on my pillow. I “saw” my youngest, playing on his computer as he was apt to do in the wee hours. Then I “saw” my daughter, curled fetal on her bed, sobbing. She was so unbelievably sad about something and I mentally caressed her arm and she slowly stopped crying. Then she started softly snoring.

About three hours later, I called to talk to her. She was surprised that I called and when I asked her why she had been crying that morning, She told me the reason. Then she asked me if I’d rubbed her arm because she’d felt me. She said I was freaky because I could do that and I laughed, asking her how she thought I knew she needed me. She hadn’t realised that our connection was that strong, that she could THINK about me and I’d “hear” her need.

The connection between the people in my family has always been that way. When my mother was in Colorado and I was in North Carolina, she knew something was wrong the night I almost died. When my husband passed away, she knew before I even picked up the phone.

I remember, as a child, being outside playing and “hearing” my mother call my name. When I’d come inside, I’d ask “Mom, did you call me?” and her answer would be “No, but I was thinking about it. It’s time for dinner” It was always that way.

When I’m asked what I get from my children, I have to smile. They give me so much that it would take a lifetime to tell everything. When I’m sad, they bring me joy that makes me want to live. When I’m angry they are my calming voice. They bring an odd sense of humor to an otherwise grim world. Each brings their own personality and, somehow, they know what is needed and when it’s needed. They each, in one way or another, have saved me from myself. I gave them life…. and they have given me life as well.

Life with a schizophrenic

Eldest is schizophrenic and has decided that she no longer needs to eat. Husband has been onto her about her weight and she has decided to starve herself. This started about 3 weeks ago. I found out three days ago. Two weeks ago, she stopped all her meds. This I also found out three days ago. She said they were making her throw up.

Well duh!

Now I’ll tell you how I found all this out.

Monday, daughter went to her therapy, supposedly. I say supposedly because we got a call about her missing her appointment. When confronted with this tidbit, she said that she had gotten there late because she missed the bus and that, when she got there, they had her reschedule.

She then goes on to say that it didn’t matter anyway because they were about to drop her because she has missed too many appointments.

Tuesday she had another appointment with her therapist and I made sure she left the house with buds pass, money, wallet and whatever else she needed. Tuesday afternoon she was home and was acting erratically. We called her therapist, then the crisis line. Got things calmed down and went to bed.

Wednesday, I went to work. At 11am I was called by husband who informed me that Adult Protective services was here. Talking to daughter about last week when husband had to put her in a restraint hold because she was throwing things and generally being violent. They were gone by the time I got home at 1:30.

At 2:15, three police officers were at my door. They questioned daughter, husband and youngest then left. They didn’t talk to me or middle.

At 4:00, youngest came to my room with severe stomach pain and was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. Nothing physically evident but when I told the doctor about the things that had happened, he said it COULD have been psychosomatic in nature.

Yesterday was pretty intense.. Not a lot of drama but eldest and husband were “discussing” things and daughter was loud and borderline belligerent.

Its almost 6am now and I’m going to the food bank to work till 1. God PLEASE let today be calm. I’d like to get through one day without crying.

I’m teetering on the brink of insanity myself. Every day this week, I’ve fought the tears. Yesterday I broke down in tears in front of my boss for the first time in my time there. Two years. She said “my God, how do you do it? You come in every day and are always full of smiles. I’d be a basket case!” I laughed and said ” You see me as I want to be seen but behind the mask is a really fucked up person.”  She hugged me and said “You aren’t fucked up. Your one of the strongest women I know.”

She doesn’t know what that meant to me.


Indecisiveness, irresolution, hesitancy, hesitation, tentativeness; ambivalence, doubt, doubtfulness, uncertainty, incertitude; vacillation, wavering, equivocation, second thoughts; shilly-shallying, dithering, temporizing, hemming and hawing, dilly-dallying, sitting on the fence

Yeah, today I’m thinking about my husband again. As always. I’ve been really paying attention to his actions of late and what I see disturbs me more than words can say.

Since I’ve been home from the hospital, I’ve been watching my husband, his interactions with the children and his words. What I don’t see, youngest informs me.

I went back to work last week and the very first day, upon my return home, youngest said that husband has informed them that he no longer cares about them because they “obviously” don’t care about him. This because he “had” to do their chores.

What kind of person says things like that to children? It made youngest cry. I’m seriously wishing I knew what to do. I’m afraid to leave because he has all the money in his bank account. He’s stopped giving me my allowance. I think he suspects I’m trying to save money to leave… If I don’t get enough money, how will I leave??

We found out that my father does, indeed, have colon cancer but it’s in the “early stages” and the doctor thinks he can get it all in one surgery. Keep your fingers crossed. I will be taking middle with me when I go down to take care of him and his wife who starts chemo tomorrow. Don’t know when I’m leaving but it will probably be in the next couple of weeks. If I can get a ride, I’ll take youngest with me. If I have to take the Greyhound, I’ll have to leave youngest here.

Middle had an endoscopy last week and we have found out he has scar tissue and ulcerations on his esophagus. He’s now on medication and will be having another endoscopy in 8 weeks. That should give us time to go to Texas and help grampa before his appointment.

I have to remember, if I leave, I don’t come back. I take the kids with me and we continue without husband. My children deserve better.



Menopausal Survival

My family is ready to commit me.

I’ve been so emotional, bitchy, weepy… My emotions are ALL over the place!

For instance, tonight. Husband is making something new for dinner and I’m organizing my jewelry making things. He is making filled quesadillas, filled with something that resembles vomit. I’m instantly annoyed. I’m a HUGE visual person when it comes to food. If it looks funny/weird/different/gross, I’m bothered.  This looked down right NASTY.

I start grumping about it being soggy and gross. Then he serves me one that he’d made 10 minutes before. It’s got the consistency of road kill. Que meltdown. I’m sobbing and bitching at the same time. I threw the food…. Dogs had dinner. Next I’m laying in the bed sobbing gutwrenchingly. Youngest comes in and asks me why I’m crying so hard and I honestly can’t say why.

Then I’m hit with a hot flash that almost makes me pass out.



At least I know a reason I went full psycho on them.


I hate being a woman right now!


Good news: They survived.

This time….