Grief Tantrum

Had a pretty epic “Grief Tantrum” this morning, resulting from a series of events that left me inside of a zipcar with no key, crying hysterically and screaming to nobody at the top of my lungs: “I JUST WANT MY HUSBAND BACK!!!! WAAAAAHHH!!!! THIS NEW LIFE SUCKS!!! I WANT HIM BACK!!! DAMMIT!!! F**K!!!!”

What is a grief tantrum, you didn’t ask? Well, I just made up the term, but it’s when you think you are “doing okay” and then suddenly find yourself beating up on the steering wheel of a car while yelling things that a child might yell, like “IT’S NOT FAIR!!!”, and crying the way that a child cries when having a tantrum, where you give yourself a massive headache from your own over-dramatic sob-fest – except you are not a child, and you are a grown-ass adult, having a tantrum inside of a rental car.

It’s the little things. The tiniest, smallest of things, which when adding up to bigger things, make me miss my husband so badly. We used to sing and play guitar together. He played guitar. I sang. I miss it so much. I miss singing and making music with him in our apartment. So I recently joined a singing group on Meetup. They meet in Flushing every Sunday and sing, everything from Motown to The Beatles. I keep missing the meetups because weird things keep happening that stop me from getting there.

Today, I had the zipcar for a few hours to go to the meetup. Walked outside in the pouring rain to where the car is, about 2.5 blocks away, got soaked and drenched, got in the car, and there’s no key inside the car. So I have to call zipcar and cancel the reservation, because I cannot drive the car. Second time this has happened with this car. Its pouring rain and I just wanted to go somewhere and sing again, and now I cant. and it all starts to pile up – the emotions of the six degrees of seperation, always leading back to “my husband is dead.”

…. If he wasn’t dead, I would be singing with him and wouldn’t have to join some group of strangers just so I can sing again. If he wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t be living in stupid Flushing Queens where I can’t GET anywhere I want to go ,easily, without a car. If he wasn’t dead, I would be driving OUR car and if I had to go somewhere and it was pouring, he would go get the car out of the parking garage and pull it up to our building so I wouldn’t have to get soaked in the pouring rain. If he wasn’t dead, I wouldn’t be desperately searcing for new ways to meet new people, or get out, or do something new – all to try and distract myself, from the very awful and always present and harsh fact, that he IS dead, and nothing I do makes that go away.

So yes, even after 3.5 years, and even after getting to a place where most days, I am doing “okay” – there are still grief tantrums, and moments where this new existence is just NOT okay with me, and I’m sorry, but I need to whine about it. It sucks, and the only thing that even helps a tiny little bit, is simply acknowledging that it sucks, and beating the crap out of a rented steering wheel, before walking back home in the pouring rain.

I hate Death.

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