I can’t eat with you, Bae. The only thing I choke down once a day is a bowl of instant oatmeal. Even my tea goes in the sink because nothing tastes right anymore. You always told me that I brought “color” into your world when we got together. No, baby. YOU brought color, life, laughter, sweetness, and LOVE… into mine.

The littlest things make Kiddo and I break down crying. Just late last night we remembered that on Thursday, our final family movie together was, “The Wizard of Oz”. You had never seen it before and enjoyed it immensely. I sang along to every song. We reflected on this moment and balled our eyes out. Though there are two of us in the bed now, without you, it feels so damn empty.

The lump in my throat never wants to go away. At times it feels surreal. Did my life really just explode 4 days ago? Or is this some sick, fucking joke? Then I tough your wedding ring at the base of my neck and begin to shiver. It’s real. It really happened. Your physical form is gone. As I tremble with grief and agony I feel waves of nausea that threaten to overwhelm me. You know I hate losing my stomach, so I refuse to go that route. So, I sit here and just…. exist.

Today is another day of “what the fuck is happening to my life” decisions. My mom, dad, kiddo, and I are going over to the funeral home to begin making those decisions. I’m glad they’re here because I have no idea what I’m doing. There are so many decisions to be made. Everyone keeps crying. Even my Yankee father paused, looked horribly somber and said, “You really picked a good one, kid” to me last night. Yes, Dad. I picked the best. Daddy was… and still is…. the best.

I also have to pick up my anxiety medication for the first time ever. Daddy was always diligent about filling up my rainbow pill dispenser and knowing to call in the prescription when things ran low. Now, it’s just…. me.

Everyone keeps reminding me, “You can do this!”, referring to this new life that I have ahead of me with kiddo. I get it. Somehow, some way, I will cobble together a small life. I will fumble and stumble around until something makes sense and I can get a job. But happiness? F-that. I know without a shadow of a doubt, no matter how old kiddo grows…. and though I might get to watch her become a mother… and walk her down the aisle…. I will never, ever be truly “happy” again. Half of my soul is gone.

Tali is my soulmate. My king penguin. My better half.

Another question I get asked daily is: How are you holding up? Finally last night when my Dad asked me this question I replied, “like shit!”. It felt good to cuss. I wanted to scream, “I’m in bloody agony! Every muscle hurts. My chest feels like there is 1000 pounds on it. I sleep maybe 4 hours a night because I keep reaching for him and jolting awake. I hardly eat because everything tastes awful to my tongue. We are at the cusp of Fall and the holiday season and kiddo and I now LOATHE anything to do with the holidays.”

So how am I doing? Fucking atrocious! That’s how I’m doing.

I’m trying to be as strong as I can for kiddo but, it’s impossible for her to not see me breakdown. We breakdown together.

And yet, as I sit here in his t-shirt, wearing his cologne as I type this post, I feel his spirit with me. He has apologized so many times. I feel it in my soul. Despite my anger and rage at the unfolding events that now come daily, there is not one drop of anger towards My Beloved. “I know you didn’t want to go” I wept aloud yesterday, “you have no need to be sorry”. I know my husband, and I know he would never, ever want to leave us. I have no doubt that he tried to fight the heart attack but just couldn’t.

There was one moment late, late last night that made me feel… calm.

My mother finally got into town and we had a tearful phone conversation once she finally had gotten settled into her place. “I wrote something down while I was on the plane that I wanted to share with you” she said. I could hear papers rustling. “I remember when my Dad passed away. He stuck with me for months afterwards until one day he finally visited me, and spoke directly to me, and told me that now that my life is settled it was time for him to go. All of those months after his death he was watching over me”. I listened intently. “But…. with your husband…. the love that you shared…. I know him. I think that he loves you two so intensely, so fiercely, and he was so protective over you two that…. I don’t think his soul will ever go to rest until…”. She paused. “Until I join him in the next life and it is my time to pass” I answered quietly. “Yes” she whispered and began to cry.

I couldn’t agree more.

So, that’s where I’m at. Each day I wake up with a jolt. I try to let kiddo sleep as I watch over her right next to her. I go through the day in this California inferno and sweat until I’m drenched. I make painful decision after painful decision and do so. much. processing. Kiddo and I spend hours holding each other, crying, and talking to Daddy. We feel him with us trying to talk back if/when he’s able. This is truly a blessing.

We’re still The Three Musketeers. We just look a little different now.

Until next time.