The Worst Six Month Anniversary Ever...

[auntbijou]

It's been six months since the Husbandly One passed away. As the experts would put it, I have passed the six month goal that means my chances of survival have gone up tremendously.

Woo-hoo.

I miss him dreadfully. It sucks. I mean, I'm better. I'm not crying at the drop of a hat, I'm getting a grasp on handling the finances, though I still cuss him out when I can't find something or there's yet ANOTHER password to something he didn't write down.

I still have trouble sleeping. It's extremely difficult to get used to sleeping alone again, after sleeping next to someone for 29 years. Sometimes, I lie there for hours, waiting to go to sleep. Sometimes I read, or play a game. And sometimes, I'm out the moment my head hits the pillow.

It's all part of the grieving process, I know. But I hate it. I hate the bills I keep getting for him. I hate it that when I finally called Sprint to make the necessary changes to our phone account, to take THO off and I was all prepared to surrender his phone, I was a complete mess when they told me I could keep it at no charge.

I wasn't ready to let go of it yet.

I cried when the bank let me know they were taking his name off our account. I wasn't ready, but... I understand why. It just... hurt.

I hate it. I hate it all. I hate most of all that he's not here.

But I still am. I'm still here, and I will stay. Not happy about it, but... I'm doing it.

Dammit.