Saturday, November 10, 2007

Confession time...again.

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.

8 comments:

Laurie said...

Oh Laura,

I can't begin to tell you how heavy my heart is for you after reading this. To read you writing and living in my worst fear and nightmare for my entire married life just breaks my heart; this is a glimpse of what I would be facing. I am so sorry girl and I wish I could make it go away.
I love you for wearing HIS clothes, they are comforting to you, whether it is lonely and a substitute, you are doing what you need to do to keep him close while your heart is dealing with this shocking loss that SUCKS so big. As a mother of 36 year old married sons, I would feel so lost in fixing this for them. A parent can't. This is too big and there isn't a bandaid or hug big enough in the world to help make it better. You are doing exactly what you can and need to get through this. There is no "getting over it" ever Laura, just getting through over time so the pain is not so raw and you can breathe again. I see you doing it each time you write, and it is still so fresh, this new reality you have been thrown into and it is so unfair. My prayers continue for you each day Laura, I have no answers here, just love from a mothers heart for a child hurting.
There is no way to put this pain away, just nurturing yourself a day at a time until the feeling of healing comes through to lessen it.
BIG, BIG mother HUGS to you from me tonight girl. You are loved.
Laurie in Ca.

Marsha said...

I am supposed to be doing my homework right now. Jeff is cooking breakfast for Lily. I just started crying my eyes out, guess I was caught. Sending hugs and good wishes.

Shari said...

This morning, as I dressed, I looked at the WWLD bracelet and hoped that today was a better day for you. So this is my prayer for you today.

I feel so bad that your life had to change this way. My mom said that my dad came to her in a dream. It was a small comfort to her.

My heart ached for you as I read this post. The pain of loss you feel, the way you want to keep things he touched close to you...

God bless you, Laura. May He wrap His arms around you and comfort you.

The girl left behind said...

A dear friend of mine gave me the tough love speech about a month out. "You CANNOT die of a broken heart!" It was not a fact; it was a command. I believe that you can, but that most of us will not, and some days we think "More's the pity." It really IS worse on the ones left behind. And I'm so sorry, Laura. I'm so sorry you're in this club.

I envy you having his things around you, even though I know it is only the tiniest comfort. I didn't have that. But I'd give anything to smell him again.

Some days, you just need to sit in a chair (or in the yard) and stare into space. I had no idea of my capacity for staring into space until this happened. Looking back now, though, I think it was something I needed to do as I made my way through the darkness. Take it easy, and when it's time to sit, sit. When it's time to move, you will move.

Karen MEG said...

I hope you're doing better today Laura. I cannot imagine going through what you are; it sounds like you're having better days, you probably don't believe it but your posts seem to show that, at least to me. You are stronger than you think. And then there are heartwrenching posts like this one; of course you're going to feel this way with all of his things, reminders of him. But it's good that you have them, and you have these sensory memories of him. They are precious.
Hugs to you...

haylee said...

Dear Laura:

I am so dreadfully sorry you are feeling such pain & not seeing any respite in sight. It doesn't seem fair because, dammit, it isn't fair.

I don't know if you've read the stages of grief but anger is a natural part of the process. From all you've written, I do know your father loves your dearly - as he did Leonard. I can't help but think your Dad is experiencing some anger seeing his beloved daughter is such deep pain and knowing there is precious little he can do to help you. Perhaps this is a method for him to cope in some small way. Most, if not all, cannot begin to understand your agony, heartbreak and utter frustration at being totally unable to change the one thing in your world that could restore you. Acceptance, I suspect, will be a long and never completed process.

In the meantime, continue to do what you feel you must. It's next to impossible to have energies for others when all of your's are used in something as fundamental as breathing. Your grief is still so raw and the upcoming holidays must frighten you terribly.

I have mentioned it once before but have you talked to your doctor about the advisability of anti-depressants? Several years ago, I was very deeply depressed because of dire situational reasons. It was as a last resort that I agreed to try Elavil. The usual course is to start on small doses and gradually titrate to a therapeutic range but because I had been so exhausted and beside myself for months, I was started on quite a large dosage -- 100mg 2 hours before bedtime. To be honest, they did little more than make me sleep for the first 2 weeks and I actually felt worse but the numbing was a welcomed addition. After 2 weeks, I began to feel I had a better handle on things and was able to cope better. While the meds didn't make my troubles "go away" (nothing or no one could), I was able to function a bit better.

I only use Elavil as an example - there are many, many brands and oftentimes people have to try a few before they find the one that is most beneficial to them.

I suggest you have a talk to your doctor on this matter. There is no shame in needing help when one is facing such overwhelming tradegy.

As always, in my prayers ....

"We cannot direct the winds but we can adjust the sails."

The girl left behind said...

I would be wary about recommending drugs in a grief situation. Grief and depression are not the same thing, and although the emotional aspect may seem similar to outward appearances, there are different mechanisms at work. I had a fairly serious long-term depression some years ago and I have since been widowed; the experiences were not comparable in my perception.

haylee said...

I probably should have added that my depression was due to profound grief. What I discovered, after much investigation & soul searching, is that having a clinical depression does not leave you immune to neurotransmitters going whacky.