My wife went into hospice two weeks ago and never returned. Now it’s just me, my dog and our two cats living a big empty life in my big empty house.
I like quiet – but I liked it more when I had Ellen to share it with. A hundred times a day, I want to turn to her and say something. But she’s not there.
I’ve mourned before. When our daughter died, our lives were turned upside down. For months I woke up and my first thought was, “Liz is dead.” For years, it seemed like years my wife would never be able to smile again.
But we got through it and eventually things got better. We had each other.
Now I am on my own for the first time in 29 years.
People ask me how I’m doing.
Sometimes I am OK. When I am immersed in a project, helping someone, or exercising intensely, I can go for hours without thinking about Ellen. At these times, when I do think of her, I smile at the thought of a good memory.
Last week I felt like this for several days. I told a friend, “I can’t believe how good I feel this week. Everything is OK. I miss my wife, but I’m not despondent like I was a week ago.”
I picked up her ashes and death certificates that same day. Even this seemed uneventful.
Then on Christmas Day, a wave of sadness hit me like a tsunami. Since Ellen was Jewish and I’m not religious or consumerist, Christmas was never a special day for us.
And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. All day I was consumed with memories of her last few months. She had so much suffering that I could not alleviate. She had so much pain. Her mind and body were failing. She was dying before more eyes.
On days like Christmas Day, I just can’t turn off the sadness.
Other days it feels like I am just going through the motions of life.
I am good at getting stuff done.
- I eat, sleep and exercise.
- I feed the pets.
- I walk the dog.
- I do the dishes.
- I wash laundry.
- I do volunteer work.
- I read.
I’ve also got a big list of “projects” I am working on:
- Sorting Ellen’s clothes for charity, our art project and giveaway (done)
- Cleaning out Ellen’s bathroom and moving my crap in there (done)
- Emptying closets, dressers and cabinets (halfway done)
- Sell Ellen’s car and deal with the DMV (done)
- Update insurance, deeds, bank records, etc. (halfway done)
I’m taking care of all of this. It will all get done well.
But who even cares?
Ellen and I built a life together. Now that life is over and I need to create a life alone.
I’m busy doing this but I wish I weren’t.
I miss my wife.