A month ago, around 6:30am, I kissed Matt goodbye for the last time. Between 11:30 and 12:00, he shot himself after telling me that it was too late and to remember that nothing he was going to do was about me.
One month. He was in the hospital last June for almost the same amount of time, only that time I got him back. This time last year I had no idea what was about to hit me in a couple of months; I can hardly believe that all of this has happened in less than a year. What is the point of all this pain?? IS there a point? Why would there be a point? (This is rhetorical – please don’t answer – I have to find the answer for myself.) I know that I at least helped to make two people VERY happy by letting them adopt my daughter – that pain ended up being redemptive and gratifying, and time has mended those wounds so well. From what I read about dealing with my current situation though, I can see that this is not something that I will ever “get over.” I will always miss Matt. Sometimes that realization makes me want to slap him for doing this to me, though I know (as much as I can) why he did it and that he held on as long as he could because he loved me and didn’t want to hurt me.
I feel like I’m starting to say the same things here. I definitely keep thinking the same things over and over, so it seems appropriate that my writing would reflect that. I hope to be able to move on from these same issues at some point. Sometimes I feel like this is getting just a little bit easier, but sometimes it’s just as painful as it was a month ago. I know that’s natural.
Matt had a friend on FB – I have no idea what her name was – who used to post status updates all the time about how much she missed her late husband. I felt sorry and a little embarrassed for her – don’t people know that they shouldn’t be airing all their problems on FB? But now I understand. When you lose your husband, you lose your best friend and your support system (and so much more). You have to reach out to people somehow. And I am so, so lonely – even when there are people around. I long for physical affection and to know that I’m still special and loved. People tell me they love me, but it’s hard for me to believe sometimes. I guess maybe that’s my problem. It’s such a different love from the kind that Matt gave me though, and I miss that so horribly much.
Sometimes it feels good to get my thoughts into words and organized, but right now it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. I still feel fuzzy and cloudy and sad and lonely and confused.