Author Topic: Well, I'm an asshole...  (Read 2039 times)

Brenda

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Well, I'm an asshole...
« on: July 30, 2015, 03:18:17 PM »
Sorry for yet another rather crude thread title, but it is what it is.  Not even a week - not one week! - after scattering my wife's ashes, I didn't go to and sit with her and chat to her for a while.  I know she's been dead for over six months.  I know that every single morning and evening, I've spent time with her (ashes), spoken to her, filled her in on what the kids are doing and how well they're getting on, and generally made sure she didn't know she was dead.  But not today.

And I knew this day would come.  I didn't expect it so soon though.  The day when I don't go and spend time with her.  And I feel absolutely terrible.  She's probably wondering why I'm not there, why I didn't come and see her, why I've forgotten about her so quickly.

The reason?  This is where me being an asshole comes in.  I was spending time this afternoon with a girl who I'm secretly rather fond of.

Yeah, kinda assholey.

Jen

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Re: Well, I'm an asshole...
« Reply #1 on: July 30, 2015, 04:25:42 PM »
No!! No, no, NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

Don't say that. Please. Because if it's true for you, it's true for me as well. The fact is, the globe keeps turning. I can't for one second imagine that the people who loved us so much would begrudge us any comfort or crumbs of happiness that we can find. There's no way in hell my Jim would expect me to sit beside his urn crying for the rest of my life. He would *forbid* it, and I'm pretty sure your wife would do the same.

For the first 6 months, I wrote to Jim every day. All day. I carried my journal with me everywhere-- and a little vial of his ashes as well. I filled up eight notebooks, basically one extremely long love/grief/anger letter to the person I'd loved, man and boy, since I was 10 years old.

And then... when I'd filled the eighth one... I got a ninth. But it wasn't the same kind of notebook, and I didn't address it to him. It wasn't a letter anymore, it was just my journal, a safe place for me to work through everything I was (and still am) trying to process. At the same time, I stopped carrying that little bit of his physical remains with me. At first I felt guilty, like I was leaving him behind, but I realized... that's just not possible.

I scattered that vial's worth of ashes atop a mesa in southwestern Colorado this past June-- my favorite place in the world, a place I wanted to take him and never got to. It was easier than I thought it would be... freeing, somehow. No more guilt. He's in me, he always will be, and I could no more forget or abandon him than I could leave my arm or leg or heart laying about.

You're not any kind of an asshole, Brenda. You're a bereaved wife trying to rebuild some semblance of a life, just like me. We're getting through the best we can, and our lost loves are cheering us on. They want us to find some joy again. I promise.

(((hugs)))
I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other. ~Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

"Dying is easy. Living is hard. ~George Washington, Hamilton

Portside

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Re: Well, I'm an asshole...
« Reply #2 on: July 30, 2015, 05:28:40 PM »
In Heaven there is no such thing as jealousy or annoyance - so, all is well.

Best wishes,

Mike

 
The war is over for me now. But those of us who did make it have an obligation to build again, to teach to others what we know, and to try with what's left of our lives to find a goodness and a meaning to this life.

sunshinedaydreamz

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Re: Well, I'm an asshole...
« Reply #3 on: July 30, 2015, 10:15:36 PM »
Are there slots machines ?

Brenda

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Re: Well, I'm an asshole...
« Reply #4 on: July 31, 2015, 05:41:03 AM »
As always, thanks.

My therapist told me that there's no reason to feel guilty about getting on with life either.  The world does keep on turning.  I can't imagine that my wife would want me being miserable for the remainder of my life, living as some kind of permanent griever.  And if she did feel that way, then why am I paying any attention to someone who clearly doesn't want me to be happy?  In the real world, I'd be rather quickly done with anyone who wanted me to live my remaining days miserably.  Life's too short - like waaaay too short.

So from here on out - hopefully! - my goal is to remove all of the guilt.  Sorry to sound cold, but she died, it wasn't my fault, and I (we) did everything I (we) could to try to get her better.  Didn't work.  It was a raw deal for her, but it was the hand she was dealt.  Me being miserable isn't going to make her suffering any less.  It's not going to bring her back.  It's not going to do anything whatsoever to change the past, and she, like it or not, is in the past.  But the misery, if it continues, will eat away at my future.

Not suggesting that I forget her.  Not at all.  But I've got to move past the ridiculous guilt because it's crippling my way of thinking and stopping me point blank from ever having something resembling a future.
« Last Edit: August 01, 2015, 04:01:32 AM by Brenda »