Thursday, December 06, 2012

Day 3

Nothing is different.  I'm still in shock.  Everywhere I look is just about John.

Human beings classify things.  Somebody will say I'm in the 'denial' stage.  I'm not sure.  I understand what happened.  Is there a 'desperately want them back' stage?  Is that bargaining?  I don't think so.  I think it's the 'wish' stage.

It's not working.

I slept a lot last night.  Ambien is a mother fucker for that.  You don't remember dreams because it basically erases your memory from a few minutes after you swallow the pill.  I remember falling asleep with Riley laying next to me.  I had got in bed with John's lap top, intent on reading some things, but Riley wouldn't come.  I got up to find him and he was wandering the house, looking for John.

Heart breaking, right?

For me, it was unimaginable pain.

I picked him up and brought him onto the bed, and had to prevent him from jumping right off.  He settled down after a bit and laid next to me.  He's devastated also.  He looks sad constantly.. doesn't play with his toys.. doesn't chase after Token.

I just spoke to a close friend of Johns, while sitting on the love seat that Token and Riley camp out on.  Riley put his head on my shoulder for a while, and then on the back of the love seat.  His eyes were open.  He can't nap.  It was just a blank look.  I'm sure he knows John isn't coming back.  People say that dogs are resilient.  I hope so.  I sometimes call Riley 'Hoppy'.. because he hops around the house, runs circles.. up onto the furniture and then launches himself off again.  He loves John as much as I do.  I know that.

Today John's sister was here again, making phone calls and trying to get things figured out.  John didn't leave a neat and tidy situation.  She left about 3:00pm.  Johns BFF Diane was here, and went and got me some food.  I hadn't eaten in a couple days.. but I managed most of a bowl of soup.  She left at 3:30.  People have their own situations to attend to.

Time passes incredibly slow now.  I want to take a nap, but I'm afraid to for some reason.  I'm exhausted.

Familiarity fucks with your head.  I keep expecting John to open the garage door and come walking in the house with bags of groceries.  I'd help him unload and put stuff away and he'd pick out something for dinner.

I got more messages from John's friends today, and a call from Phoenix from another family member (my nephew) and a friend.  The friend that called had lost his father earlier this year.  He could hardly speak so the conversation was short.  The call with my nephew was short.  He just wanted to say he was sorry, but admitted he didn't know what else to add.  I understand that.  You can't really talk to somebody who has just lost just their spouse.  I hope I'm not making anybody feel uncomfortable.

I don't know which day is garbage pickup day, and which is recycling.  Before I go to bed, I'll have to look at other houses in the alley and see if they have anything out.  White bags are garbage, blue are recycling. White bags don't go out at night though, just the morning, because they're not very thick and animals can chew through them.  I'll have to check in the morning.  I'm not sure what time the truck comes.

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