I had a lot of things going against me. First we had James' Birthday. It was his first Birthday that we have encountered without him being here alive and with us. His Birthday approaching was much like the feeling you get when you are readying yourself to throw up, when your stomach is churning nauseously, your forehead damp in sweat. You know it is coming and you know it is inevitable. You just have to lay there in your queasiness, waiting for the inevitable to come. I didn't handle it well. I cried a lot, I reminisced a lot, I was miserable.
Then we had Memorial Day weekend right alongside his Birthday, like tar and feathers, really. Two days in a row we took the long drive to Salt Lake City where we could visit him at the cemetery. The first day we were there a waterline had broken, leaving a giant hole and caked dirt covering both James and my Grandparents headstones. On hands and knees we cleaned the headstones, brushing the dirt with ice scrapers and wiping the dirty marble with baby wipes.
The second day it was dark and dreary, deep black thunderclouds rolling along above our heads, occasionally dripping rain and sounding with angry thunder.
We crowded his headstone with pinwheels and flags and flowers. I left him a Dr. Pepper, and the boys left him a hot wheels car. It was actually a tiny ambulance, which is ironic and possibly distasteful, but I think it would have made James chuckle that they left it so I let it stay. The cemetery itself was filled with throngs of people, flowers and flags and balloons and handwritten cards in sealed envelopes. It was a beautifully visited and loved place that day. I watched people coming and going, sadness in their eyes, shoulders hunched over. It was quiet and reverent and as I sat there and stared at the tombstone I felt cold and empty. A poem kept repeating itself in my head: Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep.
Over and over this poem repeated itself until I felt dead inside. My emotions were pretty shot at this point.
Another factor in my emotionally draining weekend was that Dan left me. Calm down, he didn't leave me. He left me temporarily. He took off for a big week trip in the LP (Lake Powell) and I told him to go, you know. Back when it was being planned, and I knew that it being just weeks after our eight days in Hawaii, and leaving the boys for that long again plus taking another week off work would be difficult for me, I told him, I said, You go babe! You will have a blast! You need to go!
Boy do I regret that high horse I rode. I don't mean to sound all cliche but do you know, Dan and I haven't been apart for a whole week since we met?? Once when we were dating, in 2008, we tried to "take a break" for a week. We made it three days.
I know, pathetic.
Anyway, allllllll of the feelings this weekend you guys. Oreo thins, sleeves at a time! All of the seasons of New Girl! It hasn't been pretty. I'm looking forward to starting fresh today and crawling out of this slump of a broken, painful hole I have been residing in.
THAT BEING SAID. Here are some pictures from better days. This is why I take pictures! I love the reminder of better days. These so happened to be last weekend, when Dan and I took an impulsive trip to Southern Utah for some mountain biking and rock climbing. It was the loveliest weekend, just what I needed to fill me up and prepare me for a crummy weekend to come, I suppose.
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