I wake up every morning with a heavy heart. My eyes slowly and hesitantly drag open to let in the first rays of light--realization starts to set in again that you are gone, as I observe my surroundings. The first thing I notice is the sleeping bag wrapped around me, the sleeping bag you were found on, on that fateful day. Your urn that I curl up with, is in no way a substitution for your touch, your skin, your sleeping breaths, but it's all I have to hold onto. I sleep on your side of the bed, I look over at your pictures and silently tell myself "I have to do this. I have to get up. I have to live on--no matter how much I don't want to."
With a deep sigh I pull myself out of bed--the only place I feel any comfort, surrounded by you, and your belongings. I walk across the hall to the bathroom, glance at myself in the mirror--I hate what I see. I hate the person staring back at me. I don't recognize her anymore. The broken sad eyes, the bags and lines growing underneath. I see the weight I have gained, as I have turned to food as a form of coping, a form of self destruction. The first thing I think of, is how gross I must look to you. If you are there watching me, looking over me, how disgusting I must be. I turn away just that much more lost, not knowing who that person is in that mirror.
I climb into the shower and I curl up on the floor allowing the water to wash over me. As though the water has some healing powers to wash away all my pain, all my hopelessness...
When I emerge from the shower and make my way back to our room to find clothing for the day--my gaze falls and lingers among your clothes, hanging undisturbed, on your side of the closet. I just want to grab one of your shirts and pull it over my head and climb back into bed, the bed we shared, and hide away from the world--a world where you no longer exist...
I turn away and put on clothes that are increasingly becoming tighter around my waste line. Gather the last of the things I need from our room. I walk over to the giant picture hanging on my wall, with eyes that stare back at me and following me wherever I go. I ask you "Why? Why did you leave me like this? What am I supposed to do without you. Why can't I be with you?" I lean in an kiss your lips on the cold glass and imagine your lips under mine, "I love you." I say my goodbye like I have done for all the years past as I leave to make my way to work.
I miss the texts I used to get from you on a daily basis to let me know you were awake and your first thoughts were of me, "Have a good day booboo. I love you." I miss the smile that would span across my face, and my heart that would flutter in my chest, never had that message grown old. For years I received that message almost daily, and I would give anything to get those messages for many more.
I manage to get to work, I listen to songs that remind me of you on the road. Once at work I look at the pictures around my office of you and I happy together, at our children, when we were happy, when we were one, when we were whole...
I try so hard to pull myself together and determined to do a good job that day. Yet, somehow I don't feel the inspiration I need. You were always my driving force. I loved doing a great job, having a successful day, so I can come home and tell you. So that I can see and hear the pride in your voice as you tell me "Good job baby!" I miss you listening to the radio just to hear my commercials, because you loved hearing my voice and the creativity I put behind it. I loved making you proud!
When I go home, I don't really know what I'm going home to. My kids are independent, living their own lives, full of video games, friends, and completely oblivious to my presence. I can't blame them, I'm not exactly a joy to be around these days. It would just be nice to be reminded that I do matter. I remember all the times rushing home to be with you.
You used to lay on the couch, and the moment I walked through the door your head would pop up and you would ask me how work was. I would kiss you then see what you needed, whether it be food, or something to drink before I settled next to you on the couch, to either talk about my day, your day, or just quietly watch you as you flipped impatiently through the channels when commercials would come on. I grew used to never settling on actually watching any one thing, because you changed from so many different programs.
Now I come home and my house is a mess everyday, since you are not here to ensure that the kids do their chores. My yard is overran with grass knee deep because I can't afford to fix the brand new lawn mower we bought last year. I see peeling paint, missing roof shingles, and other various broken pieces of our home that you would try to fix while you were at home. There is garbage and dishes surrounding the outside of the house as the kids run wild with no rules, no guidelines or discipline from a father that was very consistent with them, and enforced routine. It seems my voice, goes completely unheard without you. Sometimes out of complete exhaustion I just don't even bother trying.
I don't know what to do anymore in the evenings. I don't really have anyone to talk to about my day. I don't have you there to cook for and make elaborate meals for. The kids prefer quick meals, never able to agree on anything I ever made before, and still not able to agree on them now. So my desire to cook has died with you. So instead I find my way climbing back to my room and curling back up in my bed feeling completely lost and dreading falling asleep because tomorrow I have to accept that you are gone all over again...
I don't know who I am anymore, and I hate that I have become this person... In this life I do not recognize, this person that I do not recognize, this home I do not recognize...
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