Month: November 2017

Roaring back

The kid touches the TV sometimes when he sees something he likes. He thinks it’s real, that he can reach out and hold what’s on the screen. It’s cute.

A little while ago, I came across a picture that Alison musta taken right after we got married. It’s of our marriage license, our rings, and the bouquet she had.

I was doing really well, all things considered. My brother, his best friend, and PB met the Gymgirl recently cause we all went out one night last week.

And I managed to get through Thanksgiving without losing it, which surprised me greatly.

Yet, when that picture popped up, found myself touching my cold monitor hoping that I could reach out and hold it. Like I was some stupid kid.

So the rage and sadness comes roaring back and gotta go into my blue bathroom to turn on the water and scream for a bit before going to the liquor cabinet to pour myself a glass of rum.

Found my wedding ring a few weeks back too. It’s like getting repeatedly punched in your soul. Repeatedly.

F__k. I was cleaning up so well.

Me: I’m sorry I talk about her so much.
Gymgirl: Don’t be. I like hearing about her.

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Here’s a kick in the head: While drinking my rum with ice, realized that I have a cracked tooth that I musta gotten while wrestling at some point recently.

Man. Can’t even have a goddamn glass of rum in peace…

Location: in front of another cold screen and cold glass of rum
Mood: the usual hell
Music: Hope dangles on a string. Like slow-spinning redemption

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She’s on Mars and we’re stuck here

Me: Hey, kid. Get up. It’s time to get dressed and go.
Son: (yawns, smiles)

Tomorrow will be the first Thanksgiving without my dad and without Alison in over a decade. Trying to accept that.

Before 2017, I rarely wore black. I think it’s probably because I did so much as a kid.

But since Alison died, I’ve only worn black. It was my quiet way to memorialize her.

Tomorrow, I’ll stop. It’ll been six months since that fucking day and three months since my dad passed. It’s time to accept my new normal.

It felt weird wearing all black and now, it feels weird not.

Everything is weird. I’m weird. Nothing will ever be normal again.

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Dunno if I ever told you but Alison spoke fluent Spanish and, by extension, understood French and Portuguese. Thought that was pretty cool.

There’s this song by David Bowie I’ve always liked called Life on Mars. But there’s a Portuguese version I prefer, with very different lyrics.

One part goes:

Se o futuro assim permitir
Não pretendo viver em vão
Meu amor não estamos sós
Tem um mundo a esperar por nós,
No infinito do céu azul,
Pode ter vida em Marte

If the future allows
I don’t intend to live in vain
My love, we’re not alone.
There’s a world waiting for us,
in the infinite blue sky,
perhaps it’s a life on Mars

Always told her that I’d go anywhere she was. Even if it was Mars. Cause heaven wouldn’t be heaven without her, hell wouldn’t be hell with her. But where she is now, I can’t follow, as much as I wanna.

It’s been six months since Alison was taken.

I miss my wife, but even more, I miss my best friend. She was the first person I saw and spoke to in the morning, and the last person I saw and spoke to at night.

I’ll never be the same and I’ll always have a hole in my soul in the shape of her.

But I have to move on with my life.

Because I can’t follow her right now; the boy needs me here and he needs me on my feet.

Me: Get up. (gently) It’s time to get up.

Location: home, surrounded by her clothes
Mood: hard to say
Music: I’m going to want to move to a life on Mars

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