No, Doug isn't the damned - if anybody's in The Good Place, it's him.
No, I'm talking about me. I'm talking about having to deal with legalities and financial paperwork and taxes and responsibilities at a time when I'm barely competent to keep up with showering daily.
This morning, I had calls to make:
I had to call the LOA team at my employer, because they never sent my therapist the paperwork she needs to fill out for me to be allowed to take leave.
I had to call the bank, because I can't find any statements from Doug's checking account, and I need to know what bills he was paying each month, whether auto-draft or manually, so that I don't inadvertently skip paying one of his bills.
I had to call Doug's accountant, because I need to file an extension on his taxes (and mine, for that matter), because I haven't been able to comb through all the paperwork to pull everything together and file, and odds are I won't be able to do that by April 15.
I had to call a probate attorney so that I can get those wheels in motion.
Every one of those calls left me in tears. Because every one of them required me to start with the explanation that my husband had died.
I am so tired of telling people that Doug died. I'm so tired of spending every non-distracted moment crying and missing Doug and wondering if I'm ever going to want to live again. I'm so tired of being without him. I'm so tired of being alone. I've never been a Pollyanna, but I've never been so relentlessly, profoundly sad for so long a stretch.
Sigh... I remember doing that too. It does suck... having to repeat yourself and explain, each time it's like stumbling thru your own stabbing in slow motion, over and over. One would think there would be a better way by now. I'm sorry you had to deal with that alone.
ReplyDeleteYeah, it was hard. I mean, everything is, lately. But... yeah.
Delete