6 Weeks

I laid in bed last night and realized that it has been 6 full weeks since Doug died.  I feel like the fog, the feeling of numbness is wearing off more than I would like for it to.  I’ve been keeping busy to a certain degree, finding a house, getting things set up here, being with Lido.  I am glad that I found a house so quickly because I really and truly feel like I could not do anything now if I had to. I’m good getting some things done during the day – then I feel completely sick to my stomach in the evening…it is as if I suppress any feeling of guilt for continuing on until I can lie in bed and miss him…and cry.

It isn’t getting easier. Not that I expect it to be easier right now. I’ve survived Halloween and dressing Lido up and taking him trick-or-treating. I survived an evening amongst his friends that night without completely losing it.  I have found that I can only handle that in very small doses…The entire next day was really tough.  It is still tough today.  I try and move forward and plan and keep our life going forward – even though I would really just like to hide away.

I am heading back to Portland this week to pack our things and I also close on the new house this week as well. It is hard to imagine being somewhere else even though we really wanted to be back here.  Sometimes I think that I should have just decided to stay in Portland. To not even try moving his things, our things. To be able to visit the airport, see the familiar helicopters flying over our place…to stay connected to what we have been living the past 3 years.  Sometimes I feel as if I’m leaving him.  That the life we knew there will just cease to exist…Sometimes I’m just afraid that I’m moving to fast.

I know I’m not. I’m very well aware of what I can handle and what I can’t. It’s just taking the time for myself and mourning the loss of our life together, mourning him that is the hardest.  I lay in bed thinking if I wish and pray hard enough all of this will be a dream…that I’m in a coma and just thinking that this is happening…that none of it is real. God how I wish it wasn’t real.

I’m a planner. For a planner…having to live second by second…it’s hard.  My chest tightens up and my stomach lurches every time I even think about any sort of future.  If I want to plan anything or think about the future I try and shut down everything remotely human in me and figure out things in a robotic fashion.  It is the only way I feel like I will survive.

I called the funeral home today to finalize some things with them and the man I had been working with to arrange everything for Doug told me that prior to cremating him they were able to get a fingerprint.  He said that they felt really bad for me that I was not able to see him one last time.  I’ve been crying ever since.  To think about how badly he was hurt for me not to see him, to think of what happened when they crashed. There have been so many little things that I don’t want to put together because it would paint the worst picture in my head of what they went through.  I think that is why I don’t dream anymore.


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