Then comes one of THOSE nights. Deat's absence feels like a hole cut out of me... a hole that can never, ever be filled. I can try all the tricks I've learned in the last year to focus on the positive, but none of them work on one of THOSE nights. I can wish and wish and wish... but I'm not going to wake up, this is it, this is real.
I know, I know, tomorrow I'll be better... I'll get stronger everyday.... blah blah blah. I don't WANT that. I want my life back. I want to go home, back to before the dialysis and the meetings with the nephrologist, the rhumetologist, the cardiologist and the half-dozen other "ologists" who fed me full of bullshit and still didn't save him. Good God I have a notebook where I wrote down nearly every word they told us... for all the good it did. I have a database of 18 medications, but keeping track of them didn't help either.
Maybe it's so hard to figure out who I am without him because I DON'T WANT to be whoever she is. I never have. I still don't. I just want to go home... Deat and I used to say "Home is where ever YOU are." Instead I come back to this house where we were SUPPOSED to be raising the girls TOGETHER... and I've searched it over and over... some of his things are still here, but he isn't.
Yes, tomorrow I will feel better. Tomorrow I'll be able to rattle off every good thing in the world about my life and how blessed I am. But cut me some slack tonight. It's one of THOSE nights.
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