It’s As if You’d Died

I just tried calling DSB, on the last number I have for him.  It went straight to voicemail.  I don’t know what I would have said, had he answered.  I probably would have just continued crying, as I have been for the past hour.  I know I haven’t been great about responding to comments in a timely fashion, but everyone keeps talking about grieving and grief.  I guess it is now sinking in that this is what I am left with — grief.  And I have to find my way through it.

I feel like, for the moment, I am over being angry and celebratory over our break-up.  Now I just feel sad.  The way it feels now, its as if DSB had died and I am left with the emotional and physical wreckage, and I can’t see or talk to him anymore.  Those are all true things, about the wreckage, about not being able to see or talk to him.  But he didn’t die; at least not in a physical sense.

Which is strange, because I have been preparing for him to die for the last six months.  He has just been so sickly and has had some close calls and I spent many nights waking up to check if he was still breathing.  I spent the last six months thinking I could lose him in a split second to another blood clot or from not being able to breathe due to the pneumonia or a septic infection in  his wound vac.  I have been preparing myself, anticipating his physical death.

So why isn’t it easier on me?  If I had been so sure that he was going to pass away from physical reasons, and be gone, then why is it so hard that he is alive and gone?  I made him go.  So that should make it easier.  For some reason, it doesn’t.

I find myself lacking closure.  Everywhere I look, there is a piece of him.  A necklace he gave me, our matching recliners, the entire office in general, TV shows we watched together, sitting at the dining room table having coffee.  It’s just too much.  There is too  much of him in this house and it makes me feel terrible.  It gets worse when I sit outside and think of all the times we hung out in the backyard with the dogs, when we very first got together, and grilled every night and sat back and bullshitted until past the time the sun went down.

I also find myself avoiding any meals or foods that he generally liked or wanted to have around.  This is the longest I’ve gone in two years without eating biscuits and gravy.  Or breakfast, really, of any kind.  In the early parts, he always cooked up a big breakfast on the weekend, sometimes on the weekday if we had the stuff to do it.  He loved making breakfast, but he always made such a damn mess.

I miss the sweet things that he did for me back in the start of our relationship.  The thoughtful birthday and Christmas presents, the sweet emails or putting stuff to make me smile on my FB timeline.  I don’t know what I did to make him stop loving me the way he did in the beginning.  It’s as if, over time, I started to emanate some sort of negative energy and he just couldn’t stand to be close.

I don’t know if there was something I could have done to make him love me like he did in the beginning.  I guess I just wore him out.  He wore me out, t0o.  I think we both decided to end it at the same time.  It’s probably good we’re over, but it feels like my entire world is falling apart and I have to scurry around and pick up the broken pieces.

17 thoughts on “It’s As if You’d Died

  1. OK, ignore the post above. Freaking computer.

    I was saying, Oh, dear. I am sorry you are having a bad night ((Hugs)).

    Don’t worry about when you reply or read, just take care of you. If you do read, you will see there are seven stages (I think?) and that you will just go back and forth, depending. Don’t think twice.

    I am sorry you are hurting right now. Reach out if you need me.


    • Yes, last night was rough. I was luckily able to get ahold of my dad and he talked me out of all the craziness. He’s good for that sometimes.

      The stages. I read there are five and I don’t feel like I fit in any of them. Maybe I’m wrong and I’m in one, or maybe I’m just between or maybe Kubler-Ross was an incompetent sociologist. Ok, prolly not. I can tell, for sure now, though, that I am grieving and not just in shock.

      And I know you are there. It’s hard for me to reach out sometimes, but I did, this morning on FB and it was so wonderful talking with you for a bit. You are a dear friend. Much ❤ and hugs to you my dear!


  2. Rosie, my good friend. DO NOT KEEP CALLING HIM. Do NOT hunt him down. Don’t do it. You will regret it. It will not make you feel better, give you closure or anything else except maybe a migraine. Don’t do it. Really. It’s a BAD idea.

    But hey, what do I know, right?


    • Actually, you’re one of the wisest people I know.

      I am not calling him anymore or trying to track him down. I don’t even know what I would say other than to ask him if he’s all right. Which, he’d lie, either way. The urge to talk to him is strong, but the urge to get better is deeper. I just had a weak moment. That’s what I’m calling it, anyway. 😀


      • Good for you. I have friends who became stalkers for all practical purposes. It’s pretty common. I deal with it by putting as many miles between us as possible. An entire ocean twice. But wow, it’s amazing how the need to communicate lessens when you know you can’t possible see him anyhow . And international long distance is very expensive! 🙂


  3. I think there is actually no such thing as break-up at all. Impermanence is really a real thing and it’s natural that we are kind of sad when we are in love. There is a sadness to the ecstasy. Beautiful things sometimes can make us a little sad and it’s because what they hint that is the “exception”. A vision of something more. A vision of a hidden door. A rabbit-burrow to fall through but a temporary one. This ultimately is a kind of the tragedy. That is why love simultaneously fills us with somberness.

    I think that we can dodge our moves and defy entropy and impermanence. Life really begins at the end of comfort zone. And if we are willing to step out of our comfort zone and be able to treat what seems like despair, what seems like hardships as an opportunity to reinvent ourselves, we can transcend our own limitations


    • Thank you for the hugs…they are needed, and reciprocated. 😀

      I guess I wasn’t really allowing myself anytime to grieve, but now I realize I have to. And I’m not calling him again — that was a moment of weakness, and I really think that, even if I got ahold of him, I wouldn’t know what to say other than to ask if he and Rascal are ok. And he would probably lie. I don’t need that.

      Sorry to hear you’re doing the breakup thing, too. ((hugs!!) to you. Hopefully each day it will get a little easier for us.


  4. To be honest, it would probably have been easier if he had actually died. A divorce or break up of a long term relationship is often considered harder than a death because – unless it was a suicide – when someone dies it wasn’t because they wanted to.

    I agree 100% with Marilyn – don’t try calling or contacting him, it’ll only make things worse for you. If there are things around the house that have strong memories attached that make you upset, either box them up for now or get rid of them. But don’t deprive yourself of foods or activities just because they remind you of him – you still have every right to be happy.

    Love ya, sweetie.


    • You’re right…if he would have just died, things would be different. Much different, especially because that is what I was anticipating all along.

      I’m done calling him or trying to get ahold of him. There’s no point, really. No point at all. I just need to give myself time to work through this and not be so harsh at judging how I am handling it.

      I am still doing some of the things we used to do together, just in a different way. I’ve been totally staying out of the room we used to spend more of our time in, and I’m okay with that. I’d rather be in my dining room with the sun or my comfy living room (that we never used). Mom and I have plans to revamp the office so it loses it’s Sam-ness. Thank God for Mom.

      Much ❤ and hugs to you!


  5. I saw this post early this morning, and once again had not much to say, other than “What Mrs. A sez.”

    There’s quite a bit to be said about the ol’ doctor’s truism… eat an apple, and call me in the morning. Sometimes it makes for an easier transition, than having a familiar say WTF. And no, I am NOT a cat. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  6. It’s been over two years since my toxic ex broke up with me, and I STILL keep thinking “oh, I wonder what I could have done to make him love me more, I wonder if we started again today, if he’d love me more this time…”

    So many other people have said it but PLEASE don’t call him! Think of the beautiful fresh new beginning you have! It’ll get better in time – time heals all wounds.


    • No worries. I won’t be calling again. We left the relationship on mutual terms, but I do keep wondering what it was that he couldn’t love about me. I have come to the conclusion that he was doing the best he can, and that was all the love he had to offer.


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