I did not get out of my pajamas all day today. I actually went out into the back yard and raked (grrr...enough with the leaves) in them. They're not super pajama-y looking. They were actually my husband's Detroit Lions lounging pants that I bought him for Christmas last year and a ratty t shirt from a camping trip we took. I did not have the energy to get dressed today. It happens that I also did not have the energy for raking either. I just stood there, rake in hand...looking. Not really looking just staring into space enough to have my neighbor ask if he could help with anything.
I have found myself wearing a lot of Leonard's things lately. His shirts, his lounge pants. The closest I can come to having his skin against mine is wearing the clothing that once brushed against his skin. It is a lonely and poor substitute. I can't get my mind and my body to stop longing for him. My blood needs him around to pump efficiently. I was sitting in the chair (his chair) thinking about him...and that day...and imagining that day...and I forgot to breathe. I wanted to dig my nails into the arms and the seat of the chair and attempt to find him. I raised my arms to the ceiling and tried to pull him to me. I took him-his presence, his feel- for granted. I cannot live without the feel of his whiskers against my neck, his mellow, deep voice in my ear, his hands on my shoulders easing away the stress that my own idocy often placed there.
My father is afraid I am dying. Needing your life partner, your love...is not dying. It is unending, excruciating pain without that relief. He is upset with me and tells me he almost hates my husband for it. I cannot change my way of feeling, my emotions--- or turn off the crying and misery to help him out. I try. I try...and then I attempt to try some more. But I need (I NEED) to hear those boots on the floor...see him scoop our son up...make plans for these days that are now so lonely and long. Weekend days that used to belong to us.
Where is he? How can he be so far away...so unreachable??
I think I am going to take a shower with my eyes closed. I can't even stand in the shower without thinking of him... He used to come in to use the bathroom while I was showering, and pull back the curtain and wink at me. The day he left, he came into the bathroom while I was showering and that was the last I saw of him...alive. I only saw his lifeless, beautiful hands after that...besides my view of him from far away, in his pickup truck in the parking lot that day. We just used up the last of the shampoo that I had bought when he was still alive. And I cried and almost tucked the bottle away in the drawer. But I know it won't bring him back, or do me any good...so I let it go. I am wondering if I have a fresh pair of pajamas for tonight.