Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Dear Dairy,

Weird thing. I couldn't shake the idea that I wouldn't be around for Gwen's birthday in late October. Lots of morbid thoughts about my demise. So I started ordering birthday presents so she would have presents to unwrap. Now I have all these unopened boxes sitting in my den. One is really cool: a Starbucks white-gold travel mug with a ceramic interior. I finally opened it today and it's gorgeous.

Also opened a fake antique sign that reads "Books" in vertical letters with a old-fashioned hand pointing to the right. It's heavy and substantial and has a glass front, which I didn't expect.

I got her a Dalek key ring that lights up and threatens to exterminate you. I have no idea where it went. Maybe it exterminated itself. Oh, and an Abby bobblehead from NCIS. Gwen watched that damned show every day on one channel or another. Why don't they just make an NCIS channel and be done with it.

Looking at Gwen's stuff in the bathroom. I'm not at the point of throwing it out yet, or maybe I'll just use it. But the important thing is that even though Gwen owned my heart and soul (and still does), she never really owned the material things. She is gone but her stuff remains. Now it's mine, and when I go, my stuff will go to my children. We're really just renting, when you get down to it. Sometimes, if you have good stuff, the person who sums your life is an auctioneer.

I wish I could control my emotions better. I started crying at the grocery store when I saw something Gwen liked. People tell me it's normal, but that doesn't help, plus women bawling in stores tends to frighten other shoppers--well, more than I usually frighten them.

I'm having a lot of trouble concentrating, except for one thing: early this morning (2:50am),  it was exactly one week since I lost my Gwen, at least according to the coroner. She died sometime before that. She kept making gurgling noises at first and I took that I took to be a good sign. I remember yelling at the 911 lady about the gurgling. I've since been told those were death rattles, and I don't want to know what those are or why they happen.

It would be romantic if she had died in my arms. But I couldn't get her up so she died with me on top of her nude body, pounding on her and yelling for her to wake up. A policeman dragged me off of her and took me to another room while the paramedics did their thing.

This is weird in a way, I'm angry that my world has stopped but the rest of the world goes on. Hearts beat, hearts stop beating, people laugh and cry, the birds sing their song, men drive semis full of meat down the Interstate, the yard turns more yellow from the drought, now the worst in 56 years.

So, this week seems like forever. Will the hurt ever end? It's not for lack of trying. Last night I stood on the front porch, looked up at the cloudless sky, and told Gwen how angry I was that she left me like this. Just when things started to turn in our favor, she went away to wherever people go. We worked so hard to beat the crooks--it was time to drink the wine, so to speak.

Found out today from someone who secretly overheard a conversation between the crooked lawyer and the crooked accountant I've been fighting since 2008:
Lawyer to accountant: "You better not do this. Melissa will find out and destroy you."

You bet your ass I will. It's already started. We're bringing down the Illinois Attorney General's office on your greedy *#&(*&#@s.

Come to think of it, the same lawyer told my ex: "Watch out for Melissa. She's really intelligent."

Yeah, intelligent people are dangerous. Especially if you're a crook who stole from me.

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