Surviving Larry’s sudden death isn’t a title I ever wanted to write. Truthfully I wasn’t sure I would ever return to blogging on a regular basis. Around 7 months after he died I realized I wanted to blog again. I have a lot to say. I even have a new blog site called fractured.life. I started it, I have not moved forward with it and really and truly that is where my writing about death, mourning, grieving, bereavement, and all new words and feelings I live with belong.
Fractured is the title of my book. Fractured (but still beating) is the title with the tagline my publisher said I need. The cover art is a heart with a fractured line going through it. That is how I feel about love, life, and everything that has happened since the night he walked outside to put fertilizer on the rose bushes and walked back in and died in my arms. My heart is fractured. My life is fractured. The love we shared is fractured. My world is fractured. This is a fracture that will never heal so how the hell does anyone think or believe I will survive this?
I have ugly moments, ugly days, ugly tear-stained cheeks and this has aged me. I have lost a lot of weight because food was our fun place. Food was something we did together. Food and creating delicious meals was our date night. Over dinner he was completely mine. He wasn’t in his office working, he wasn’t on the phone doing research, he would sit and savor whatever I placed in front of him and tell me I should own a restaurant the meal was THAT good.
Now I make food so I can eat. Food doesn’t excite me any more. Many times I make a meal, eat 1/3 of it and throw the rest away. I am thin. I do weigh myself, and if I continue to lose more weight I will seek help.
There are days I only exist. I take care of Willie, I drink coffee, I do what is expected of me and not much more.
There are days when I do a lot.
I vacillate between the two.
Writing helps. I write every day, every morning on Facebook. Those are the thoughts that will become the book. That is when what I write here will actually be shared on the fractured.life page along with a podcast sometime in 2020.
Writing sometimes doesn’t help. Like right now I am not feeling especially inspired. I am just allowing my fingers to move all over the keyboard while pouring out my feelings that for some reason are bland right now. I don’t have passion firing me up to write how goddam pissed off I am at the carelessness that happened that night starting with the paramedics and ending with being told 10 days later there was nothing more that could be done.
Surviving Larry’s sudden death is not something I ever thought about, most of us don’t. That is my purpose, that is my reason for writing. We need to think about death of our loved ones even if it hurts, even if it is disturbing, even if we don’t think it will happen, because guess what, it will happen.