In Time

It is coming up on the two-year anniversary of Mickey’s death and up until the past few weeks, things have been a little easier. I was cleaning out a junk drawer and came across a recorder Mickey would use to keep track of phone calls and other tasks he needed to do in a day. After a few days of looking at it sitting on my nightstand, I put some batteries in it and turned it on to find that there were over 36 hours of recordings that followed Mickey through two work days without his knowledge. Obviously, if he were alive, it would be borderline creepy for me to listen to his conversations, but since he is gone, this is the only recording I have of his voice, his laugh, and the annoying throat clearing sound he used to make.

I was excited to listen and made it a point to turn it on each night before bed. I will admit that in the first two nights after finding it, I stayed up all hours of the night listening for over 10 hours straight. There were parts that were 6 hours long with no recording, just the silence of the recorder sitting in his truck as he went about his day. As much as this little treasure has given me something that I have longed for over the past 2 years, it has also brought back the harsh reality that he is gone and I will never hear his voice again in real time. As much progress as I feel like I have made in the grieving process and now I feel like I am back to square one. I now, more than ever, would give anything for just one more conversation with him. He has been in every dream, good and bad, since I listened to the recording. I find myself in a hole of darkness, unable to shake this lonely feeling that has decided to creep back into my life.

During this same period, I went to the funeral of a family friend that passed away, leaving behind children and a beautiful wife. Funerals in general are hard after losing your spouse, but knowing what I know and what she will go through kills me inside. After seeing her, I physically ached for her. There is nothing I can do but offer my time and an ear to listen, which makes it even harder. The days ahead will be dark and it is hard to know this about someone you care about yet be so helpless.

So, fast-forward until now. It has been several weeks since I posted a blog. I had originally committed to one per week, but as I have been washed into this wave of grief that I thought I was long past, I had to listen to my body and take the time I needed to work on myself and my mental well being. In this process, I realize that I have unintentionally done some things to try and speed up the grieving process. For instance, a few months ago, I began to try and move away from my life with Mickey by trying to reinvent myself and my life, and forget that my life before ever existed. I was so tired of hurting. My answer was to change jobs, buy a house, and hang out with different people. All of these things have been positive changes in my life, but I have since realized that I can’t forget about the life I had before. It is very much a part of who I am and as uncomfortable as it is, I have to talk about it, remember it, celebrate it.

I also have realized that I was angry at Mickey for leaving me here to do life without him. Being mad is a lot easier than being sad, but it certainly wasn’t getting me anywhere. For the first time, last week I made a trip to the cemetery. I felt ridiculous because it is not something that I would normally do. I don’t feel like anyone is there so what is the point right, but I decided to step out of my comfort zone and see what would happen. I stood out in the cold, right next to his headstone, and spilled my guts. As ridiculous as it sounds, I unloaded everything that I was feeling. I cried, ugly cried. Then I sat in the car and made myself listen to his favorite songs, including the one he was singing to me the night he passed. I was exhausted when I left there that evening. Once I got home and decompressed, I felt so much better, like a weight had been lifted off of my heart.

So, here I am, raw, unfiltered, spilling my guts to whomever chooses to read this. I am broken. Grief is hard, but I am strong and will continue to move forward until I am able to live a life that isn’t overshadowed by this emptiness that I currently feel. I can’t believe it has almost been two years. I miss him, his voice, his smell, and his stupid jokes. I will get through this, in time.