The worst part of waking up

After publishing yesterday's post, I did manage to do a few things:

• I scooped the litter boxes
• I did my first "homework" assignment for The Grief Recovery Handbook
• I did laundry
• I made a margherita pizza for dinner

There are quite a few things that were on my list that I didn't get to. But the day wasn't a total wash, and sometimes, that's gonna have to be enough.

I also had a zoom call/bourbon and a cigar with Doug's best friend Mike, and then I had a zoom chat with my sister, my youngest niece, my nephew, and my son. Fun? Sure. A nice way to distract myself from the fact that I'm alone. And yet... None of this would be happening if Doug were here. It feels like pity socializing, and I hate it. But I AM pitiful, so I suppose it's to be expected.

Went to sleep at about 1:00 AM, and woke up at 6:00 AM (still no dreams), which used to be my typical weekend wakeup time. And I used to LOVE waking up early on the weekends: quietly getting out of bed so I wouldn't wake Doug, coming out to the living room and having my coffee in the dark and the quiet, listening as the world started to wake up.

This morning, though, I don't love it. I don't love waking up without Doug next to me. I don't love the dark. I don't love the quiet. Waking up at the time I always used to makes it feel like a Kathleen-During-Doug morning. But it isn't, and it won't ever be again. I don't get to bring him coffee in bed and wake him with a kiss. I don't get to watch the news with him and laugh at all the insanity. I don't get to help him plant tomatoes, or zucchini, or cucumbers, or flowers (and without him, I won't plant any of those things, because Doug was the one with the green thumb). That butterfly garden we were going to start on this Spring? That's not happening either. NOTHING we wanted to do can happen now.

When Doug was still alive, he had a habit of snuggling up to me and kissing me on my left shoulder just before going to sleep (I sleep on my right side). My hair is kinda long, so I'd always pull it to the right side when I was settling in for the night so it would be out of his way. I realized this morning that I'm still doing that: I'm getting my hair out of the way for a kiss that will never come, from a man who will never hold me again.

I don't know how anyone survives this.