Wednesday, November 27, 2013

cold weather fire

I called to scale down the cable content, and thus the cable bill.  I had to change it from John's name into mine.  I will have to send them a copy of the death certificate.  So of course,  I had to look at the death certificate.

Getting the kids' haircuts, I had John's name on the frequent customer card and before I could say anything, the ladies just kept saying his name and I thought my brain would explode- pulling on my ears, I said "That's my husband and he is dead, will you please stop saying his name?!"

Driving to the store, I had tears pouring down my face.  When I stopped the car, Cecilia unclipped and reached across from the back and put her head on my shoulder.  Such comfort, such tiny hands, so sweet to kiss.

Sometimes, not that I would do anything because it would be a slap in the face to him and to everyone fighting cancer for their lives, it is so very hard not to wish that I were dead with him.  I just have such a hard time understanding this new world, that seems almost the same in way too many ways, which does not include him.

I lay down to sleep, and wake up in the morning, longing for his hand to reach for, wishing I had him to talk about the day I pick up the phone and check in on the world through facebook and email.  It is a comfort, but a lonely, cold, strange one.

I dreamed last night of a tall, strong man offering to hug me, crying on his shoulder...feeling the pull to have him touch me, pulling back and saying perhaps my father will offer me his shoulder this weekend.  But he didn't want to let go, and he did reach for me, although it was forbidden.

My broken heart is melting.

Fire heart

Perhaps that means that some day, I will be able to pour the liquid remnants of it into a new mold, to have new hope.

Now, it is just an all consuming burn, fire in the middle of everything I do, a secret and searing quiet death in my chest.