Iconoclastic Fury

June 11, 2012

strawberry rhubarb sauce with a side of tears

Filed under: dreams unrealized,grief — by telechick @ 6:23 pm

So this evening I finally got around to turning the rhubarb I’d saved from our garden into strawberry rhubarb sauce, or glop as C and I used to call it.  This was one of C’s favourite things that I made and I spent most of my time crying into the pot. 

It seems like the past few days all I can think of is “The last time I did X or wore X or saw X or read X or thought X, C was alive.”  It’s been rough.  I moved the rest of my stuff down here on Saturday and I think it’s really beginning to hit me that this is it. This is all I’ve got for the foreseeable future.  No C, just a box with his ashes on my dresser next to my boys in their small boxes.  I am just so angry and so sad. 

He wasn’t supposed to die.  Someone made a big mistake at HUP and I and he will forever be paying the price.  It’s a beautiful early summer evening.  Today I found a red tailed hawk nest with two juveniles in a pine tree across the field from my house.  I took Ph on a lumber this am all around Chesterbrook and marvelled at the Stepford wives-esque perfectness of it all.  I ate some delicious strawberries. I had a glass of wine.  I spent way too much money on my pets at the pet store and much less money on me at Trader Joes.  None of this C will ever experience and none of this will I ever be able to share with him.  It is so f’ing unfair.

The other night while I was unpacking the truck with the help of my wonderful friends, a park visitor walked by and said how jealous he was that I got to live here in this amazing setting.  I totally agree with him that it is wonderful, but at the same time I wanted to say to him “Well, what allows me to live here is the fact that my husband died unexpectedly  6 weeks ago due to medical negligence and left me alone and a widow” and see what he thought then.  But I didn’t.

I’ve been reading through the Heartbreak Diary and she often suggests writing topics as a form of therapy.  The one I happened upon just now was to describe a place or thing that represents a hope that turned to nope with the death of your spouse.  She writes about a boat they bought.  The first thing that came to mind for me is a spot that I passed this morning on my lumber with Ph.  It’s where C and I first met that April 28th, 2004.  He thought I was so hot and I thought he was vaguely scary.  We were supposed to be together for 50 years.  That’s what C always promised me.  Instead, I got 8. The second thing that came to mind, is the house we were rennovating for C to move into when he got out of the hospital.  God I love that house. It was my dream house. We had so many plans and so many dreams for it and for us and now they’re all gone.  It sits, empty and half rennovated and it is so difficult for me to go back into.  We never even spent a night in there together or apart for that matter. It was always our dream, just out of reach and now I must try to get it finished enough to get rid of it. God that hurts.  I just don’t understand why.  You cannot convince me that there is some sort of merciful higher power out there who would let this happen.

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