I’ve had a hard time writing since she died. BFF. I miss her all the time. I can still write creatively, just not realistically. If that makes sense. It’s so much easier to sink into someone else’s creativity than my own. Writing is hard work.
We are having a memorial for her this weekend. I have mixed feelings about it. R isn’t going, for personal reasons. And sometimes I’m still really mad at the husband for the way that he grieves. It’s not the same way that I grieve, so of course, it must be wrong. Right?
I’ll be honest, there is a part of me that wants him to be destroyed. Utterly and completely. I’m not saying he’s not sad, depressed, lonely. But the melodramatic part of me wants him to lock himself up in a dark room for months on end. Instead, he’s dating. Already. It’s been 3 months and 5 days since she passed. And he’s dating.
Everyone grieves differently.
He had to live with it everyday, watching her die. I didn’t. R says that he was resigned to it long before we were so he is able to move on faster. Plus, he’s young. And he only knew BFF for 4 years. Wasn’t even married for 2.
I’m a judgemental bitch.
I miss her every single day. I want to pick up the phone and call her or leave her a Voxer and send her a text or a stupid meme. I want to get her opinion on things. I want to ask her for recipes. I want to run scenes past her that I write. I want to make sure she’s okay with me making her ‘character’ dark and gloomy. I want her to know how much I miss her. How much I love her.
It’s pathetic, right? I’m going to be 46 in like three weeks. How can a friend dying affect me this much? Or is it effect? My brain doesn’t want to work today. And I didn’t even drink last night.
My 20yo cat passed last week.
My dad has pancreatic cancer. He just had a tumor removed. They think they got it all.
Stay tuned for more bright and cheery commiserations.