Mean what you say.
Otherwise, shut the hell up.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable with the things I've written, or things I've said. I know you don't know what to say to me to make things better. Here's the thing, nothing you can say WILL make it better, or easier, but just knowing that you care about me, that I am in your thoughts and prayers, that's what I need. I guess I've felt like people have been avoiding me. Then again, maybe I've cut myself off. I've had so many offers to "just call/let me know if you need anything" and there have been so many times that I HAVE just wanted to talk, or just wanted a hug, or just wanted to get out and do something besides sit in my apartment surrounded by memories of him. But I pick up the phone and stare at it when those times hit me. It's like I'm frozen, unable to complete a phone call to anyone other than Krystal (who bless her heart has been my saving grace through all of this) or Kelley (who seems to know just when I need to talk, or cry). I've only talked to Denise twice since "it" happened. She's got so much going on, that she doesn't need my stuff to worry about.
Bear is getting BIG! He's in one of those weird growth spurts where is legs are too long for his body so he's really clumsy and goofy. He's SO smart, though. We're working on obedience training, which is trying my patience because he is stubborn as a mule. Also, I can't imagine the "music" Nick and Bear made sleeping in the same bed. I swear Bear snores as loud as Nick. When Nick came to visit me Memorial Day weekend, he was snoring so loud I got up and went to sleep on the couch. I got back in bed before he woke up, but when he walked out of the bedroom he saw the blanket on the couch he asked if I had slept on the couch. When I told him I had because of the snoring he felt awful and said, "Why didn't you just nudge me?". Nick was always a really heavy sleeper, his mom always had a hell of a time getting him up for school, and you should have heard the volume his alarm clock was set on! But all I had to do was nudge him, and say, "Baby?" and he'd say, "Sorry, Darlin'" and roll over, or ladle me. See, we didn't spoon, we ladled. The first time we ever slept together, and I mean SLEPT was January 17, 2004 (which was also our first date) we got in bed, kissed a little, okay, kissed A LOT, and then I rolled over and told him to spoon me. He had no idea what spooning was. So I cuddled into him, wrapped his arms around me and said, "THAT'S spooning." Well, he didn't think we were quite close enough, so he drew me closer, pulled his legs up, which pulled my legs up, and said, "We aren't going to spoon, we are going to ladle."
Bear is getting BIG! He's in one of those weird growth spurts where is legs are too long for his body so he's really clumsy and goofy. He's SO smart, though. We're working on obedience training, which is trying my patience because he is stubborn as a mule. Also, I can't imagine the "music" Nick and Bear made sleeping in the same bed. I swear Bear snores as loud as Nick. When Nick came to visit me Memorial Day weekend, he was snoring so loud I got up and went to sleep on the couch. I got back in bed before he woke up, but when he walked out of the bedroom he saw the blanket on the couch he asked if I had slept on the couch. When I told him I had because of the snoring he felt awful and said, "Why didn't you just nudge me?". Nick was always a really heavy sleeper, his mom always had a hell of a time getting him up for school, and you should have heard the volume his alarm clock was set on! But all I had to do was nudge him, and say, "Baby?" and he'd say, "Sorry, Darlin'" and roll over, or ladle me. See, we didn't spoon, we ladled. The first time we ever slept together, and I mean SLEPT was January 17, 2004 (which was also our first date) we got in bed, kissed a little, okay, kissed A LOT, and then I rolled over and told him to spoon me. He had no idea what spooning was. So I cuddled into him, wrapped his arms around me and said, "THAT'S spooning." Well, he didn't think we were quite close enough, so he drew me closer, pulled his legs up, which pulled my legs up, and said, "We aren't going to spoon, we are going to ladle."
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Would it be easier, or just different?
If Nick had died in an accident, or from cancer or something, would it be easier to deal with? Or understand?
I've only known one other person that committed suicide, and that was back in high school. I wasn't really close to him. I mean, we were friends. We were lab partners in photography, and while it was hard not having him in class after he died, I think it was easier to deal with because we had such a strong support system. I think we all helped each other through it, and it helped having people around that knew exactly what I was feeling because they were feeling the exact same thing for the most part.
Another friend attempted suicide in college, but was found in time. Thank God. And while I think she still suffers from depression, I don't think that she would ever put her family and friends through that again. At least I hope not since she has a husband and 2 children...
Back to the original thought of this entry- would I have all these questions if the circumstances surrounding his death were different? Would I still feel so guilty? Confused? Frustrated? Angry? There are times when I slip back into denial. Like I'll start to convince myself that he's not dead, that that was not him in the casket. Like he's Elvis or something... Boy, would he love that. He was an Elvis fanatic. I've never been a big Elvis fan, but his love for all things Elvis was one of his most endearing qualities. He had two Elvis pictures in his bathroom, and one of them was in front of the toilet. I used to give him a hard time and tell him that Elvis watched me when I was in the bathroom. He would grab me and throw me on the bed and tickle me, which would usually lead to other "stuff" and he'd tell me that Elvis could have only been so lucky.
He never cared what I looked like. Whether or not I had makeup on. how much weight I had gained since the last time I saw him. He always told me that he was so lucky to have me, and that he didn't deserve me, or my love. One of the last things he said to me the last time I saw him in July was, "You are so damn sexy, Darlin'." I was walking in front of him about to get into the elevator at the hotel. I turned around and he was blushing because he had kind of said it under his voice and I guess he didn't think I could hear him. Now, I could have maybe understood it if I had made any kind of an effort that morning, but I was prepared for an 8 hour car ride to Alabama so I was not looking my best. That picture of us, that was that morning. I had gotten out of the shower, thrown on minimal makeup, pulled my hair back while it was still wet, put on that cap, and was wearing jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. And that "Darlin'" part?
Made me melt. Everytime. That was his nickname for me. It wasn't necessarily the word, so much as it was the way he said it. I'd give anything to have that recorded somewhere so I could hear it again. I do have three messages saved that he'd left on my answering machine about two years ago... I don't know why I saved them, but I would listen to them before I'd go to bed almost everynight that I didn't actually talk to him. From the first time we talked on the phone, I knew that I wanted that voice to be the first I heard when I woke up, and the last I heard before I went to sleep.
I've only known one other person that committed suicide, and that was back in high school. I wasn't really close to him. I mean, we were friends. We were lab partners in photography, and while it was hard not having him in class after he died, I think it was easier to deal with because we had such a strong support system. I think we all helped each other through it, and it helped having people around that knew exactly what I was feeling because they were feeling the exact same thing for the most part.
Another friend attempted suicide in college, but was found in time. Thank God. And while I think she still suffers from depression, I don't think that she would ever put her family and friends through that again. At least I hope not since she has a husband and 2 children...
Back to the original thought of this entry- would I have all these questions if the circumstances surrounding his death were different? Would I still feel so guilty? Confused? Frustrated? Angry? There are times when I slip back into denial. Like I'll start to convince myself that he's not dead, that that was not him in the casket. Like he's Elvis or something... Boy, would he love that. He was an Elvis fanatic. I've never been a big Elvis fan, but his love for all things Elvis was one of his most endearing qualities. He had two Elvis pictures in his bathroom, and one of them was in front of the toilet. I used to give him a hard time and tell him that Elvis watched me when I was in the bathroom. He would grab me and throw me on the bed and tickle me, which would usually lead to other "stuff" and he'd tell me that Elvis could have only been so lucky.
He never cared what I looked like. Whether or not I had makeup on. how much weight I had gained since the last time I saw him. He always told me that he was so lucky to have me, and that he didn't deserve me, or my love. One of the last things he said to me the last time I saw him in July was, "You are so damn sexy, Darlin'." I was walking in front of him about to get into the elevator at the hotel. I turned around and he was blushing because he had kind of said it under his voice and I guess he didn't think I could hear him. Now, I could have maybe understood it if I had made any kind of an effort that morning, but I was prepared for an 8 hour car ride to Alabama so I was not looking my best. That picture of us, that was that morning. I had gotten out of the shower, thrown on minimal makeup, pulled my hair back while it was still wet, put on that cap, and was wearing jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. And that "Darlin'" part?
Made me melt. Everytime. That was his nickname for me. It wasn't necessarily the word, so much as it was the way he said it. I'd give anything to have that recorded somewhere so I could hear it again. I do have three messages saved that he'd left on my answering machine about two years ago... I don't know why I saved them, but I would listen to them before I'd go to bed almost everynight that I didn't actually talk to him. From the first time we talked on the phone, I knew that I wanted that voice to be the first I heard when I woke up, and the last I heard before I went to sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)