I think the writer's retreat held by my agent starts today. I'm a little fuzzy on things like that right now. Matter of fact, it took ten minutes to figure out it was Sunday. And like always, ten seconds after my eyes opened, the flood of reality hit. Gwen is gone.
Last night I slept the most I have since...probably Wednesday night. I have only a few memories of Tuesday in the early morning when Gwen left me. I don't remember calling my son in hysterics, I don't remember him being here when they took Gwen away, or him driving me to the hospital. I don't remember talking to the coroner or any doctors. I do remember being shown to a room where Gwen was on a table. They must have cleaned up her face a lot since she fell. Her head was crooked, so I straightened it out and kissed her one last time. I squeezed her cold hand and told her I loved her.
God, people are going to hate me for saying all this stuff.
Mornings are the worst. I took my anti-anxiety meds but nothing yet. Still fear, loneliness, and the battle to make myself realize she isn't coming back. I'm crying now, writing about it, but it seems to be important to write. Yesterday a friend said I should write a book about this. I went nuclear on her because people always say that about tragedy and I think it's stupid. Right now, I want to be numb. I don't want to relive it all through ten revisions of a manuscript.
Tomorrow to the bank to raid my CD for the money to pay for Gwen's urn and cremation and whatnot. It's expensive but money is water right now. Maybe I'll try to get the neighbors together to speak about how they felt about her. Then the $900 urn will go in a closet so I don't see it all the time. We never made any mutual plans so I don't know what else to do.
She has a memorial page at http://www.mitchell-jerdan.com/ You can make comments, light a virtual candle, read the abbreviated obituary I had to write for reasons I can't share, at least not now.
Thursday the grief support group meets at the hospital. I will go but I don't know that it will help. What can they do about my horrible loneliness, my fears for the future?
Gwen and I have been living under a mountain of stress since 2008, when my father told he was being robbed and he wanted me to help him get it back. Shortly after, we started hearing I was disinherited. When he died, that turned out to be a lie. But a crooked accountant put two codicils in the will that basically take my inheritance and my sons'. Gwen dealt mostly with my attorneys to protect me from further harm and worry. And just when it seemed we were on the verge of final victory, Gwen left me all alone. We had just planned a new house in a new town, Gwen picked out a lot she wanted, and we hoped to build a new life, hopefully without so much stress.
Gwen had a minister friend who I think is going to school near my writer buddies' retreat. I told him I had killed Gwen by letting her get involved. But he said, very wisely, that Gwen chose to share my life, that she chose to share my burden, and she chose to take the lead in the legal matters. And that's true. Gwen's mother told me how happy she was to do things for me and try to keep me from harm.
Now my protector is gone. Sometimes I want to follow her, wherever she went, and be with her again.