Tomorrow it will be one month since you died and my life was suddenly thrown into chaos. That's thirty full days that I've somehow managed to do the impossible...survive without you. Thirty days. It seems like both such a short and long amount of time. I'm not really sure how I feel about the concept of time. Actually, if I'm honest I'm not sure how I feel about a lot of things anymore. For instance, people keep telling me how strong I am. They mean it as a compliment, but it just makes me want to shake them. It's not their fault, they mean well, but the fact is that strength has nothing to do with my survival. I maintain survival, I continue to breathe because I have no other choice. Our babies need at least one of us and since you're already gone, the job obviously lands on my shoulders.
Another thing I'm not sure about are all the silly hoops that they make a widow jump through to accomplish anything. I tried to change the titles to our vehicles and was informed it has to be exactly thirty days before I'm able, as if within that thirty days you might show up and object. I also have to have your birth certificate in order to apply for benefits and you managed to meticulously file everything in an orderly fashion except for that. The first thing I asked was whether the death certificate would suffice. No was all the lady said. No explanation or an I am sorry. Simply no. It makes sense because how can you die if you were actually never born. Except that it actually makes no sense at all, but I wasn't going to argue. The next call I make is to find out how I go about getting your birth certificate. I thought it would be simple considering I'm the spouse. I was wrong. I can't get your birth certificate at all because you're not available to sign a notarized letter giving approval. Once again, you may come back and raise hell. The woman on the phone went on to tell me that the parents listed on your certificate can request a copy. Being the inquisitive lady that I am, I asked what could be done if both your parents were deceased. Her answer?i don't know. Again no explanation or even an I'm sorry. No offer to find out or connect me to a supervisor. Simply an I don't know. I was suddenly acutely aware of the reason that I always had you deal with this sort of thing. You dealt more diplomatically with people whom either lack intellect or just aren't very good at their jobs. I wanted to scream but instead I thanked her and hung up. Luckily your dad was both alive and willing to order me a copy.
I haven't even attempted to deal with your insurance or your student loans yet. I've also not bothered with DES. I will, I'm just tired and thusly unmotivated. I could easily blame the exhaustion on the single parent title I acquired upon your sudden and untimely death. I could even place the blame on my grief. No one would question me I'm sure but in truth I'm not positive it is either of those things. I mean, they contribute, of course, but the real cause is that I'm tired of the looks and the sympathetic voices. Every new person I have to give a death certificate to is another person who is then privy to our story. To your end. They don't verbalize it, but I know what they're thinking "Aw, this poor girl. She hardly looks old enough to be married let alone widowed and with two kids. She must be so overwhelmed." In their defense people don't usually realize I'm about to be thirty but even if they were they wouldn't think that was old enough to be a widow. They are right though, I am overwhelmed. I'm overwhelmed and I am underwhelmed and I am tired. What the person hearing my story usually says though is "I've seen a lot of this recently. Must be the holidays." I think they say it to make me feel better. It doesn't, but I smile and nod or say probably because getting upset will only serve to make an uncomfortable situation more uncomfortable.
That's something I've learned while dealing with this. Most of the things people say are said to make themselves more comfortable. I can't fault them, I'm sure if I were in their shoes I'd do the same, but I've also realized that when people don't know what to say, they generally say something completely inappropriate rather than doing what they should which is to keep their mouth closed. Again, I can't fault them it's human nature. Then again, I can say now that I am thirty days into this that a thousand people will say a thousand stupid things and all the grieved really wants is for them to give one reason why she shouldn't allow her broken heart to kill her.
Speaking of a broken heart, I think that it's made me more introverted. You and I were always pretty introverted, really only tolerating the company of others for short spurts of time. I used to joke that were like electric drills. We required at least a twenty four hour charge to get two hours of socialization from us. You always agreed but since you've been gone I've become more than introverted, I've become isolated. Not for lack of people in my life but rather that I am still deeply grieved and I think that not only makes people uncomfortable but that they're tired of hearing about it and you now. Tahnya and Lindsey are exempt from this, if I disappear for too long they show up at my door. I am thankful for that. I think you would be too. Your dad asks me to the house at least once a week. I always accept the invitation, I think that would also make you happy. I also see Aaron a lot but that's only because he is helping me with your garage and more specifically the Supra. Yes, I'm going to drive it. Another thing to add to the list of things that would make you happy. Others text often, but I'm not good at responding. I don't have anything to say and I'm content not leaving the house unless I must. That wouldn't make you happy but it is what it is.
Many of your friends have reached out to me. Jada is giving me your enchilada recipe and Keira spent the afternoon talking to me trying to make sense of this unfathomable tragedy. We weren't successful other than deciding that you made a very poor and impulsive decision. She misses you. Everyone does. I wish you'd realized how loved you were that night. If you had I know things would be different.
I love you. I miss you. Forever.
Always,
Jess
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