What are things like for me? Off kilter. The morning after I found Brandon dead, I woke up, remembered that it had not been a terrible dream, cried, screamed, spent all day in bed doing pretty much that. The day after that, I still cried a whole lot, felt like I couldn’t breathe. I can’t tell you how many times I reached for the phone, wanting to call/text him during those first two days. The third day, people started to come into town, finding out, calling me, Facebook messaging, texting, etc. I withdrew into some sort of shell then; all I could do was stare. At home, I laid in bed, stared out of the window, hoping he’d come home. I had no tears left by day 3. When Brandon’s brother and his wife got me out of the house and into my inlaws’, I just sat there and stared. That’s all I could do. I was frozen and numb.
I was asked all sorts of questions; where do you want the funeral to be? What picture do you want for the obituary? What would Brandon want done with his ashes, for someone to keep them, or to scatter them? Speaking of his ashes, do you want to keep them? Everyone just wanted me to make decisions, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t think; I could barely breathe. His dad asked me if it was okay for them to make these decisions, and I remember just nodding and continuing to stare at the table cloth.
I was in that state for the next couple of days, too…just paralyzed and numb. The day of the funeral, I stayed in bed and cried until it was time to leave. The ceremony was miserable; it’s a toss up for me as to which was worse, that night or the funeral. But I think sitting there, having all these people come up to me, hug me, say their sorries, seeing pictures of us everywhere, smiling, being happy…hearing people tell stories…it made it feel more real to me.
After the funeral, I got this tightness in my chest that won’t go away, even today. Nowadays, however, I’m surprisingly calm most times. I wake up, I hurt, I cry a little, I get up, feed the kitties, I lay in bed and read widow boards on the computer. Any time I see anything that reminds me of Brandon, a picture, a dish he last used in the sink, one of his tools; it breaks me. I’ve started putting hurtful things into a box.
People keep calling me; I keep not wanting to talk to anyone. I got mad at my mom yesterday because she wouldn’t stop asking me questions like, what did you do today? Did you talk to so and so? When are you going back to work? And then she’d tell me why I should do this or that. I just got so angry and told her to stop. She still hasn’t called me back. People keep saying uplifting things like, this will pass, you’ll be okay, and I get angry.
Most days I’m surprisingly calm…but I think I may be in denial still. I miss having someone I could tell any thought to. I miss everything. I regret not having kids. I regret going anywhere that night; but I know, I know that it wasn’t my fault, I just keep repeating that to myself. I randomly start crying throughout the day; other moments I’m completely composed. The tightness in my chest is still a constant companion.