It seems crazy to keep up my blog during a time like this, but one reason is that I want to do it for Gary. I want to keep moving even when my heart and soul want to collapse. I want to force myself to keep doing things I once enjoyed, even if it tears me apart. I used to tease Gary and tell him “I’m going to write about you in my blog tomorrow”, especially when he was being a smartass and making monkey love comments or acting goofy to make me laugh, and he’d smile and say “That’s fine” because nothing embarrasses him. Everything I do is fine with him. He loves me completely and entirely, and it is like having the better part of me torn viciously away to be away from him like this.
I’ve had a lot of questions about what happened. I don’t want to babble about the case on here, because I don’t want to disclose things I shouldn’t, for his sake; but I will say again he didn’t hurt anyone, or even try to, and he never would. Everyone who knows him has said the same thing: he doesn’t have it in him.
Every moment trips over something else that hurts, another sore spot, another stab. Approaching the driveway, I try not to look at the house. I used to make the turn near our house and peek through the trees to see if his car was in the driveway, and I’d smile when I saw it there. He always came outside and met me at my car to give me a hug like we’d been apart for 100 years, and it always made me so special, loved, adored.
Now I regret every second I wasn’t at his side, every moment wasted, every second I updated this blog instead of snuggling against him and wrapping up with him, because now I can’t, even though I desperately want to so much. I know I can torture myself endlessly with this, and I need to stop, but it’s hard.
Letting myself fall apart won’t help Gary. God, it hurts so much to get up in the morning. I have a long-time snooze button habit, and Gary loved it because I’d smack snooze and then roll over and slide my arms around him. He is responsible for 99.9% of the times I’ve been late to work, because he didn’t want to let go. Now the alarm goes off, and his side of the bed is empty, and there’s no reason to stay there.
But I get up, I go to work, I make phone calls, I have meetings, I try my damnest to help him and do what is best for him right now. The only comfort I have is that someday, though I don’t know when, he will be in my arms again, and we’ll walk around Walmart holding hands and buying stuff we don’t need, and argue about what to eat for dinner, and he’ll make smartass jokes and I’ll try so hard not to laugh and give him a stern, serious look and say “You’re so immature”, which cracks him up, and one morning, one morning I can’t wait for, I will hit that snooze button…. no…turn that alarm off, roll over, hold him, and never let go.