8:14 AM
Sleep: six hours (don't get excited - it wasn't good sleep, and I'm still exhausted)
Eating: James and Memory's guilt sushi
Dreams: None. Again. 😢
Yesterday was a better day. I'm hesitant to think I've turned a corner, because... Well, for one thing, I cried so much on Thursday (from wakeup until I finally crashed) that I don't think I COULD'VE cried much yesterday. For another, based on how I'm feeling so far this morning, today's NOT gonna be a good day.
This morning, Doug's remains will be cremated. I know that Doug isn't there anymore - that's just the physical parts of him that were left behind when he moved on to wherever he is. Nonetheless, I'm going to attend the cremation, along with Missy and Mike: I feel that I owe it to Doug to be there, for reasons I can't articulate.
And even though I've said all along that this isn't Doug - and thought that I wouldn't be troubled by this final disposition of his physical form - I find myself very agitated and nervous and... troubled.
I still don't want to be here without him. It's not as desperate a feeling as it's been, but it's still very much there. I just don't see the point. And it doesn't matter how much I tell myself that he's still with me, until I get some evidence of that - a dream, feeling him squeeze my hand, hearing his voice - that seems too much like a convenient fantasy designed to manipulate myself into having hope that may very well be completely unjustified.
Unrequited love is difficult. Love that IS returned in full measure, and then suddenly gone - is SO much worse.
If Doug were still here, he'd be sleeping in our bed, cocooned in the blankets he probably stole somewhere around 3:00 AM. I'd be sipping on my first cup of coffee in the early morning silence - drinking from my UT mug, because we're playing Auburn today - and planning to bring him his coffee at 8:00. I used to love that early morning silence; now, every chirping bird seems to be mocking me: "Doug's dead, and you're alone."
At 8:00 sharp, I'd take his coffee into the bedroom, put it on his dresser, then I'd wrap one arm around him, gently kiss his cheek, and whisper in his ear, "Good morning, my love. Your coffee is on the dresser." He'd say, "Thank you, sweetheart," and then I'd leave him to finish waking up.
It's funny how such a little ritual can be imbued with so much meaning. And yet, here I am, crying because I can't bring him coffee ever again.
We'd have breakfast, then we'd watch sports news and talk about the game and our chances of winning it (not great). It would be a typical Saturday morning during basketball season. These unplanned weekend days were the best: we had nothing we HAD to do, so we could spend the whole day enjoying each other.
I miss him so much. It's a physical ache in my heart and a punch in my gut every morning when I wake up alone.
I want to sit in my old spot on the sofa and talk sports with him. I want to plan our game day dinner and cook it for him. I want him to make fun of my pain when Auburn beats us today, because it's my fault (yeah, that's still on my calendar). I want him to wrap his arms around me as I stand at the stove, cooking.
But I can't have that, ever again. During my eulogy, I talked about the Doug-shaped hole in my heart. But I haven't talked about the Doug-SIZED hole in my LIFE.
We had so much happiness, for just a fleeting moment. I should be grateful for that - and I am - but it's not enough.
12:34 PM
Doug's body was cremated this morning.
I knew, when I woke up today, that it was going to be more difficult than I expected. I dramatically underestimated just HOW difficult it would be.
Not gonna lie: suttee crossed my mind. But Mike and Missy had a pretty firm grip on either side of me, and I probably couldn't have knocked the two attendants out of the way anyhow.
God, y'all, I feel just as bad as I did on Thursday. Hell, maybe I feel worse. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to say goodbye; I don't know how to let him go; I don't know how I can live without the love we gave each other every waking minute of every day; I don't know HOW to put one foot in front of the other like everyone says I should do.
I drove home down Leeville Pike - the first time I've been through there since the tornado. That thing came SO CLOSE to me; WHY couldn't it have veered just a couple miles in this direction and taken me out? WHY do I have to live like this?
I was supposed to go back to work - at least a few hours a day - beginning Monday. But clearly, I'm not even able to fake it. So I'm taking a leave of absence until I can at least get through a few hours without bursting into tears and have enough brain cells working that I can be effective.
I spent I don't know how long on the phone with the LOA hotline at work yesterday, answering questions about my need to take a leave. The reason they're documenting is "stress;" evidently there's no ICD-10 code for "reason for living is gone."
I'm so broken and so lost. I know Doug would want me to be strong and get through this and live a happy life. I mean, I ASSUME that's true: it would be a lot easier to believe it IF HE'D VISIT ME AND TELL ME THAT. But I just don't know how. It's too hard. I'm too lonely. I need him, and I never told him that. I told him I loved him - often - but I never once said "I NEED you;" not until he was comatose and couldn't even hear me.
I just want this nightmare to end.
2:27 PM
I was supposed to hang out with Jennifer Fae Masterson tonight, but I can't do it.
Nannette Uselton Clark tried to talk me into going to The Corner Bar for karaoke tonight, but can you imagine? I'm sure everyone in that joint REALLY wants nothing more than to witness my emotional breakdown on a Saturday night when they just want to have a good time.
I can't be around people, because all I do is cry and keep saying how I can't do this. And even if I COULD drag myself out and fake it for a few hours, I still have to come back to an empty house and an empty bed and an empty future, so what's the point?
Alone doesn't feel better, but at least when I'm alone I can cry as much as I want without anyone telling me how sorry they are (I know) or how they wish they could make it better (I know that too) or how it'll just take time (you don't know that, because you don't know how I feel). Time won't fix this. Time won't make it better. Time won't make it easier. Time won't make this unbearable ache to feel his touch any more bearable. Time spent here, without seeing his face, hearing his voice, feeling his love... it's hell. I could spend eternity in the alleged fiery bowels of Hell, and it wouldn't come CLOSE to the pain of every minute that I'm stuck here without him.
All time does is keep me from being with my husband.
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