Tonight I laid and cried in the bed.
The one John took his last nap in.
The one I try to avoid looking at. But, honestly... my closet is in that guest room. How can I keep myself away from it?
I noticed it had been slept in. Annie had slept in it while the boys took a nap. I asked her how she could do it. She said she hadn't seen what I had seen. So, this makes sense. Annie didn't come upstairs. She didn't see John the way I had seen him.
We have been watching a show called "Obsessed" on TV. With people with all types of phobias and OCDs. And the way they get people to get over them is by using small "exposures" and eventually working their way up to bigger ones until they can control their obsession.
After Annie told me she had slept in the bed I decided I needed to lay in it too.
I mean, I have a couple times... sat on the bed. For no more than a few seconds.
But I got in the bed. laid down.
and lost it.
i cried as silent as i could into the pillow.
i grabbed the sheets and stretched my legs out.
i laid in the position I found john. on my stomach. arms over my head. and I looked around. i wanted to see the last images he saw in his life. even though I truly believe he died in a beautiful dream. I spoke to John silently while in the bed. usually the only words I can utter is "baby" and "i love you." I never can get past anything else. I am speechless.
Sometimes I find myself saying small things to John throughout the day. But I can't completely speak to him. Because when I talk... I am very expressive. i need to act everything out. i need to show my expressions. and I can't do this yet with John.
i laid in the bed for no more than 5-10 minutes.
that was my exposure.
and the lights were on. there was no way I was laying in the bed in the dark.
and then I got up. as I got out of the bed Jim came up the stairs and saw me. I was red faced and we knew there was nothing to say. he just said good night and went to bed.
we weren't going to have a cry fest tonight. i think he knew I had just had a very personal moment.
Then I put up laundry.
Today I needed to talk to John.
I had a conversation with my dad that I wanted to share with John.
my partner. my best friend.
i feel like I am in the twilight zone. and not the sexy vampire one.
the weird topsy turvy one where my life has turned completely upside down.
i have fallen down the rabbit hole.
i wouldn't be surprised to see a smoking catepillar. at least that would make more sense.
as soon as i lose john the world decides they all want fulfillment in their own lives. everyone is getting engaged and pregnant.
everyone is falling in love.
at my "widows dinner" yesterday with Jenn and Andi we both agreed about having those same feelings. Thank God I am not alone here. I am not being selfish. I am being real.
And at times I feel forgotten. I expect more effort from people to get a hold of me... to see me... to contact me. But, the phone calls have started to wind down... the text messages are less and less... and visits are infrequent. I know I am the biggest reminder of John's loss. I know when people see me. they see john. they see loss and sadness. and who wants that in their life.
i bet jim and sarah will have a huge weight off their chest when I leave the house. they won't have to see my sulky face anymore.
they will get to move through their grief and continue on with the rest of their children and grandchildren.
and i will have no john. no future.
I know this blog was supposed to tell the good memories of John. and they are coming. slowly. but there are many. So many I want to share.
but, i can't help but get this stuff off my chest. the way I really feel.
Sometimes I just want to burst. I want to scream out in the middle of a room. sometimes I get pissed that I force myself to hide my feelings. and then sometimes I am like "fuck it." I can cry and I don't give a damn.
But I did promise good memories. Here is a picture my sister sent me not too long ago. It was of me and John in Long Island at a winery. I think it captures our personalities very well. And it can make me laugh everytime I look at it. I hope that it can do the same for others.