The Three G's......

It's 0331am on Monday morning and I'm still awake.

I haven't been sleeping well. Even with the aid of prescription sleep aids and other "downer" type meds.

I lay in bed and toss and turn, can't get comfortable, cant turn my mind off.

The fact that I'm not alone in my bed isn't helping. I sleep try to sleep with the three G's wallowing all in the bed with me like some restless pack of dogs.




Grief - it's always there. Most of the time I hide it behind a smile, a joke or conversation, only to feel it building up like pressure does against a dam. I feel it's strength, and I take my hands and try and push it back, but it keeps on and on until it's running through my fingers and pooling around my feet and eventually I just have to let it wash over me completely. So many people think I should "be ok" by now, or they have just totally stopped communicating with me at all because I guess they think grief by osmosis is possible. It's the loneliness that really digs in on you and slowly wears you down. It's the not wanting to be a burden, a third wheel, the one everyone feel's sorry for. It's the lack of human communication and the feeling of another person just being there that pokes a tiny hole in your soul and makes everything flat. I hope, when faced with another person who will one day embark on this journey I'm on, that I will remember just how much a hi and a smile, a hug, a phone call, a text, an invite to lunch or to just talk and take a walk would help. There's a song by Train that has a line that goes"Am I the friend I think I am?" I hope when I have to step up and be that friend that I am that and more.

Guilt - Guilt is my ever constant companion. Guilt over not seeing if an ultimatum would have worked - forcing him to go back to rehab? Guilt that I didn't try to have him taken there legally though I promised him I wouldn't. Stupid guilt - guilt over going to work when I knew he would go and drink while I was gone. Guilt because people tell me I shouldn't feel guilt because he was a grown man and made his own choices. Guilt that I wasn't a better wife that could fix him and take the demons away. Guilt over not forcing him to go to the hospital when he fell. Guilt over laughing with him about his black eye two days later while he was still fine, instead of maybe seeing that it could be a sign of something worse. Guilt that when he said he was sleepy and wanted to take a nap he slipped into a coma while I was at work instead of at home where I could have done something, anything. Guilt that maybe I didn't pray enough on the way to the hospital. Guilt that I'm pissed off at God, at thinking there maybe isn't even a God, and the guilt that goes along with questioning it at all. And then the guilt of still being here. Then the guilt from the guilt of all of that and feeling guilty for bitching about it because hey, I'm still alive! It's a freaking guilt goulash around here and it seems like the pot never empties.

Gregory - He is always with me. I talk to him all of the time. Well, I talk to the space around me, but I tell myself he hears me. I see his face on the pictures throughout our house, I look down and see his wedding ring on my finger and the bracelet I gave him on my wrist. His St Christopher hangs around my neck on the same chain that used to fall around his. His clothes are all still in the same places, though by now I've sniffed his smell out of them a thousand times over. I sleep in his pajamas. I walk around in his socks. I use his toothbrush. I miss his voice, his touch, his scent. I miss just the thought of him being somewhere on the same earth as me. When he would go out of town I would cry everytime he left, and he would tell me not to cry, that he would be home before I knew it. He's not coming home no matter how much I cry this time. He's stuck forever in that damn urn that I kiss every time I go by it.

My three constant companions. It's like me and The Three Amigo's.

I guess it beat's being alone.


Anonymous said...

I'm hoping that over time the grief and guilt dissipate so that all you are left with are the good parts of remembering Gregory. :)

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

The guilt is going to go away. Promise. I had so much guilt over my dad's death. For me, it took about eight years, but then again, me and guilt are best buds. I hang onto that shit FOR-friggin'-EVER.

The grief will always be there. Even 11 years after dad's passing, just the right moment will bring it all back like it's brand new, like he just died. I fucking hate it when people expect you to have moved on after a few months, a year. I call total and utter bullshit. The grief is there, it's just that, eventually (and the time it takes is different for everybody) life takes back over. You'll get there.

And Gregory will always be there. He will. He's with you and you're never going to get rid of him. :) I see my dad in pictures and I'm glad that he's always here. The kids know about "PawPaw Tom." I am sad that he can't hug them, but they know of him.

Dear Lord, I've hijacked your comments and made myself cry. I'll go now. Love you, hon!

ShellSpann said...

I'm so sorry :( *HUGS*

Beautiful Mess said...

I'm so sorry, love. I'm thinking about you and hoping the guilt goes away soon.

HEATHER said...

Oh honey, I'm so sorry. The grief never goes away. My granddaddy that raised me has been gone for 23
years and I miss him as much or more now as when it was fresh.
I know I told you this the last time you wrote about guilt and I still firmly believe that there was nothing you could have done to prevent this, that this was Gregory's chart, fate, whatever you want to call it. Please try to find any of Sylvia Browne's writings about death, you will find them very comforting.

LOVIN7 said...

Judging by your Saturday post, I'd say you have the best medicine for this right there in your house with those crazy dogs of yours. I know our 3 crazy kittens have been a bright light to my husband during his severe suicidal depression and ultimately treatment. You can't change the past, just live for the future even if you think you can't possibly go thru another day. When I am lying awake into the wee hours because I can't sleep, I will think of you doing the same. We are all here for you. ((HUGS)) to Cozzie.

Confessions of a Mother, Lawyer & Crazy Woman said...

Insomnia and I are close friends these days too. I am so sorry for all that you going through.

sybil law said...

Hopefully, someday soon, something will happen that makes you positively Giddy.
Until then, I am here to listen. Or read. Whatever. :)

Momza said...

Maybe you could invite one more "G" into bed every night...GRACE.
Grace to comfort your wounded heart, Grace to absorb the guilt that destroys your peace,
Grace that comes from knowing Gregory IS still with you and always will be.

Maybe Grace will help.


gorillabuns said...

I totally understand all of these feelings. They come and go and sometimes hit all at the same time. I wish I had the answers on how to heal and handle but I don't.

So sorry.

Marie said...

I can relate to your feelings 100 hundred percent. I lost my husband of 32 years in March, 2003. He was 50 years old. Why didn't I see that he was sicker than he let on? Why didn't I insist they do more testing? Why, why, why?
And yes married friends leave you and they left pretty fast too. I've had to try to build a new life with what I have left.
I so totally hear you sister. I really do.
I have wanted to comment before when I first found your blog. Now was the time I guess. Hang in there and know that I am reading you. And I also am feeling you.

Marie in Minnesota

TexasRaceLady said...

I wish I could tell you the grief goes away, but it doesn't -- it DOES get easier to live with, though.

You WILL work through the guilt. It will take some time, but eventually it will subside. Besides, Greg would kick your ass if you let it take over your life.

Greg will be with you for the rest of life --- as long as you remember him, he'll be there. Talking to him is not weird --- I talk to my mom, dad, and grandma all the time.

Take pleasure in small things -- any time you can get with your mom and dad, those crazy dogs, a beautiful sunset, the perfect rainy day.