(originally written 9/2/11)
Last night’s dream had no dialogue, no words, but it was just as intense and real as the “Eleven” dream the night before where Don and I had a conversation filled with humor, meaning, and subtext. This time though, I don’t even know if I should call it a dream, because I was half awake and conscious of it being a dream. Do you know what I mean? I was actually awake enough to be sort of commentating on what was happening, what would happen next, and then kind of cheer the dream on as it started to go the way I wanted it to. Also, this dream had a very lowkey “real” quality, and happened right here in our apartment; whereas the “Eleven” dream had a very angelic feeling to it; and Don appeared as more of an afterlife-type person rather than here on Earth. The “Eleven” dream reminded me of the movie “Ghost”. This dream reminded me of a typical silly day in our Jersey apartment.
When Don was here, in our real life together, we had a lot of very “silly couple things” that we did with each other. Every couple has them. Unless you are a really boring, piece of shit couple; then you might not have little moments you share together. However, most couples, especially married ones, have these little moments or “secrets” that they share together. People always say you don’t know what goes on behind closed doors in a family or marriage. I think that’s very true. Sometimes what goes on can be awful and violent. In our case, what went on was nauseatingly sweet and silly. Why am I sharing some of these things? Because it is these tiny little moments that I miss the most right now. Also; other widows have told me that eventually; in time; you start to forget things; like what they looked like, their laugh, or the little songs you sang to each other. I refuse to let that happen. I dont want to ever forget. Not ever. So I am writing it all down so it will remain in print forever.
Continue reading “Wake Me Up Before You Poop-Poop” »
(Originally written on 8/11/2011)
Today my mom, dad and I went with our close family friend Eve to the hospital/comfort care center to visit her husband Charlie. Everyone calls him Chuck, and I know him as “Uncle Chuck.” Hes not my uncle by blood or anything, but my brother and I grew up with them as our next door neighbors our entire childhood on Taylor Road in Groton, and we always called them “Aunty Eve and Uncle Chuck.” They were one of those couples that always seemed to be stuck in time; as if they both remained the same age year after year.They never changed. Same hairstyle, same type of clothes, same habits, same routine. Their yellow house next door looked the same every single Christmas, and they both seemed to revel in their sameness. It was wonderful, and comfortable, and they liked it. And then about seven years ago, something weird happened. Uncle Chuck started getting sick, and old. And sometimes, when you live right next door to someone forever and see them everyday, you dont notice them getting old. But because I lived in NJ and would come home to Groton Massachusetts every few months; I started to notice that the once quick-witted, funny, stubborn, nice as hell guy I always knew … was becoming a bit less quick, and a lot more stubborn. Continue reading “Jealousy” »
It was February 25, 1998. I was living in an apartment with my oldest childhood friend Sarah in Forest Hills, NY. Our entire childhood together, we both had the dream of moving to NY and becoming performers. Now we were roommates, and on our way. Sort of. I was a Tour Guide at Radio City Music Hall, a part-time waitress in a hole in the wall Irish pub in the city, and I was auditioning now and then for acting work. I hadn’t yet begun my stand-up comedy pursuit; and my personal life was on a downward spiral. About a year and a half before, I had been through a hugely traumatic event that I had shared with absolutely nobody, except for a very rude and unhelpful “counselor” on an anonymous hotline one desperate evening. I will get into what happened to me later on in this book; but what’s important right now is that something had happened; and it had changed me. I was no longer trusting of men, and I had become very insecure and unsure of myself as a person. Im not sure why I didnt share any of this with Sarah; or my parents; or a friend; or anyone; but I didnt. Continue reading “The Beginning” »
You know how on TV shows, in films, and on really bad, death-related, Lifetime Movies of The Week starring Meredith Baxter Birney or Tori Spelling; there is always that scene after the loved one tragically dies where the person left behind has an epic, emotional breakdown? This breakdown, in Hollywood-land, usually happens one of a few different ways: Continue reading “Internal Error” »
(originally posted November 1, 2011)
One thing that has become evident throughout this whole horrific ordeal of losing Don, is that I have some pretty amazing friends.
Two of those great friends are Marina and Dave. They are married; and they met one another over 20 years ago; in our college days at Adelphi. Marina was an Acting Major, like me, and Dave was a music major and brilliant pianist. I was friends with both of them separately. I remember one time on campus, Marina asking me about my friend Dave, and saying she thought that he was cute. Dates were set up, and fate was put into play. Once they got together, they were pretty much inseparable. Marina continued acting, and Dave switched from being a music major to being a med.student! It was literally an overnight change for him. Perhaps he had thought about it for a long time inside his own head; but for the rest of us; it was completely random. He had long hair and smoked cigarettes and played Jazz and Rock music; and then one day he told all of us: “I think I want to be a doctor.” The next day he cut his hair off, quit smoking, and changed his major. Now he’s a doctor at NY Presbyterian, and Marina is his wife. She is still an actress, and Dave continues to play piano as a hobby. The piano that sits in their home is played more often, though, by their son, Ben. They have another boy named Jake; and they are both cute as hell.
Continue reading “NOLA, Part One: You’re Fat” »
originally posted September 6, 2011
Dear Boo Bear,
I am very grumpy today; and it is multiplied by not having you here to whine and bitch to when I get home. First of all, I have my stupid period. I used to love how you would refer to my period as simply “friend.” The way you used to say it, in that sarcastic tone, was so adorable. You would always seem to know when it was coming too. My back would be hurting or I would complain about a particularly bad headache, and you would say “Well Boo, friend should be arriving any day now!” And you were usually right too. You always made fun of me because I would always get “friend” on the day of a very important event. “What is it with you and your stupid friend? You ALWAYS get that damn thing on the worst possible day!” I had friend on the day you proposed to me in NYC. I had it on our wedding day. And guess what arrived the morning of your funeral, as I was crying in the restroom before the service began? Friend! Continue reading “Dear Boo Bear … (A Letter to my Husband)” »
(Originally posted September 26, 2011)
Today is my Birthday. It is my 40th birthday, and I had been making a big deal about it the whole year. I always do. Birthdays have always been a huge thing in my family. My parents always made us feel really important and special as kids on our birthday. When I was little, mom would make homemade cakes in the shapes of Mickey Mouse or Raggedy Ann, and all my friends would come over for cake and ice cream and an awesome party. Dad would put together the bike or the new Playskool record player they bought for me, and there were lots of laughs and fun. I always kept that spirit as an adult; every single year. I love the idea that there is a special day set aside for every person on this earth; the day they were born. It is truly something to acknowledge and celebrate. Continue reading “SURPRISE!!! I’m Dead!” »
originally posted on September 4, 2011
So many random thoughts going through my head this morning. About Don, about life, about us. I am having so much trouble adjusting, accepting, living with this new reality. I still don’t want it to be true. I don’t want to have this new life without my husband. I hate this new life that I have to grow into slowly, and take time with. I am getting so tired of all the advice. On one hand, people are constantly telling me how this is going to take a long time; how it might be years and years until I am ever happy again; and even then; I will never ever be the same. On the other hand; some people act as if I should certainly be moving forward by now. Hell, its been almost two months! I appreciate people and hate people all at the same time right now. I need people, but I need to be alone. When I’m alone, I cry like hell and often feel like there is no hope; like it will never ever be better. Continue reading “Mirrors” »
originally written on 8/28/11
Was jolted awake this morning, not by Sammy pawing at my face as usual, but by water. Dripping. On my head. Specifically, on my eyelids and forehead and onto my pillow. Got up and took a closer look, only to realize Don’s entire side of the bed was soaked in water. His pillows, comforter, everything. After managing to get almost 3 hours of Tylenol PM-aided sleep, I guess my head had wandered over to his side of the bed unknowingly, and the result was being woken up by what felt like a heavy drippy faucet to the face. Continue reading “Irene” »
Ever since Don died, I have this weird feeling inside me that is a bit tough to describe. It is an overall feeling of guilt, and it happens immediately after anything that is even mildly pleasant or enjoyable. It happens at least once a day, and most time it happens multiple times a day, and it results in my tearing up and sometimes silently crying. It is such a strange thing, because it takes things, events, experiences, that are normally joyful and happy, and turns them into something incredibly sad and uncomfortable. I don’t know if this is a normal way to feel after someone dies, I’ve never heard anyone talking about it before, so I’m not sure; but it’s not a feeling of comfort because it feels like you are being robbed of something wonderful because you no longer know how to enjoy things anymore. Continue reading “Don Would Have Loved This Sandwich” »