Your Death Is a Pain In the Ass

Beyond the missing of you …..

Beyond the not having my best friend, my teammate, my lover, my all-things-in-life go-to person ……

Beyond not having our future to look forward to, or our today to live …..

Beyond all of that, and above and in addition to all of that ….

Quite Frankly ……..

and let me be blunt ….

Your death is a pain the ass.

I am on month 2 of no income, no job (aside from a few very tiny at-home, temp work opportunities that are barely enough to cover groceries). I go back to work in September, but I don’t get a paycheck until October 1st. I lost my summer teaching job – the one I have had for years, each summer, that normally gets me through the 3 month stretch just fine until fall semester starts up again. Well, this year, and going forward, the powers-that-be decided that my courses were no longer needed in the list of required courses for graduation. So nobody signed up, resulting in the courses being cancelled. I will no longer be teaching in the summer months.

So, since about mid-May, when the spring semester ended, I have been scrambling around like a madwoman trying like hell to find work, or some source of income. My email inbox is literally filled with rejection letters and reply emails that begin: “We received your resume and application, and unfortunately, there is nothing that you are a good fit for at this time.” Which is sort of how I feel right now, in life. Like I’m not a “good fit” for anything, and I don’t know quite where I belong. The things I want to happen can’t happen right now. The things I want to pursue, I cant pursue. The things I do have feel shaky and all over the place in my brain, and the things I had that I loved, are gone and dead. After 5 years of that reality, where do I go next? Where do I fit? Where am I the “good fit” that someone or some thing is searching for? I really have no idea. But those are the bigger issues. Right now, it’s the “other” stuff that is currently pissing me off daily, and making me want to constantly scream at Don for dying, or at his heart or God or the universe or whoever or whatever force, decided that he should be dead. How dare they?

Yesterday, while smack in the middle of writing my weekly TV review, my computer went down, as did the entire Wi-Fi system. After cursing up a storm because my almost-written review was now gone, I spent over an hour playing with wires and buttons and plugging and unplugging and rebooting and on and on and on, until FINALLY, I got everything working again. Turns out the power cord was bad, so I had to replace it with a different one. In the end, I spent over 90 minutes in total frustration on something I know nothing about, and it ruined my mood the rest of the day. When Don was alive? It would have gone like this: “Boo, the computer just went down.” “Ah, okay. Let me see what the problem might be. Oh! There we go. Looks like a bad power cord. Let me change that for you.”

Your death is a pain in the ass.

Yesterday, I was searching around the apartment for the longest time, trying to find something that looked like it might be worth eating. Since Im nearing the end of whatever I bought on my last grocery trip, the choices are slim, and I’m not. After looking for what felt like years but was probably 20 minutes, I unenthusiastically decided on some elbow macaroni with butter and parmesan cheese. Yeah. This is basically the typical meal of my 3 year old niece, but I had nothing else, so that’s what it was going to be. Until I picked up the pot to put it in the strainer, tripped over the damn cat and dropped the pot of macaroni all over my kitchen floor. If Don were still alive, I wouldn’t be in the situation where I would be desperate enough to eat that lame excuse for a meal in the first place, therefore I wouldn’t have dropped it anywhere.

Your death is a pain in the ass.

This morning, I woke up, and proceeded to walk out into the kitchen to make some coffee and get started on my daily ritual of looking through endless job sites and emails. I noticed the refrigerator door was wide open. So Im guessing it was open all night. Why? I have no idea, other than the fact that my roommate and I live in an apartment with a crappy and old refrigerator that has weak megnetics on the door, so the slightest change in breathing might cause it not to close correctly. Washed down the door, scrubbed the inside, tried again and prayed that all our food hadn’t gone bad already. If Don were here, I wouldn’t be living in this apartment at ALL, never mind with this shitty refrigerator from the Carter adminstration. Who knows where we would be living by now together? I do know it would NOT be in weird and annoying Flushing, Queens.

Your death is a pain in the ass.

All the little things, and bigger things, that I now have to do because he is dead. Killing roaches. Killing mice, or picking up the ones that my cats leave half-dead on my bed or on the floor by our entrance-way. Dealing with the idiots on dating sites, and dealing with dating, period. Yes, there are moments when I feel joy or when it’s exciting to discover someone new and everything they bring to the table. But in the moments when it feels really hard, or where I feel like I have no idea what Im doing or if Im going to end up hurting someone or hurting myself – I just can’t help but want to scream: “I WOULDNT HAVE TO DO ANY OF THIS IF YOU WEREN’T FREAKIN’ DEAD!!!!”

Does that ever go away? That whole “Six Degrees of You Being Dead” thing? Where every single thing you do, somehow relates back to them being dead? Will there ever be a day where something goes terribly wrong in life or Im having a really awful time with something, and I DON’T immediately think: None of this would be happening if you didn’t die.

Honestly, I don’t know if that will ever happen. I don’t know if I will ever be able to seperate the two things. Life after losing my husband, and his death. Can those two things ever really be seperate? Probably not. Because one led to the other. So maybe that’s just the way it is. I don’t know anymore, and I don’t pretend to know these things. I only know this:

Your death is annoying.

Your death is a nuisance.

Your death is a pain in the ass.

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11 thoughts on “Your Death Is a Pain In the Ass

  1. Wow! You really tell it like it is! I’m sorry you feel that way. I don’t think what is happening to you now is at all related to the passing of your husband. I think you need to take responsibility for your actions and their outcome. Your husband, from what you describe him to be, only wanted the best for you and I would think he still does even after he departed.
    You need to get it together, become self sufficient and able to make the best of the rest of your life as I’m sure he would of wished for you. You may have little to go on right now but you have plenty more than so many others in a much worse situation than yours.
    Your penmanship is pretty good, that could be a source of income.
    Volunteer for transporting cancer patients to their medical appointments, you have time right now, it doesn’t cost you anything and at the very least it will bring you comfort knowing you made a difference in someone’s life. It will get your mind off of what’s not going so well in your life and focus more on those who’s life really need your help.

    His death is still in mourning.

    His death is a new life ( good or bad ) for you.

    His death is a pain that will never go away.

    • Hey, thanks for the lecture, but these are just my thoughts and feelings, Ive been “self-sufficient” since I was 18, and Ive accomplished a LOT of things in the 5 years that he died. I write with a comedic slant and yes, I “tell it like it is.” You dont know nearly enough about me to be judging me or telling me what I should and shouldnt be doing. Ive done plenty of volenteer work and plenty of other things to help people. I use my blog to express the raw feelings and thoughts that come with the death of a spouse. If you dont like it, dont read it. Have a great day.

  2. Death truly is a pain in the ass … Today I’ve spent more than an hour and a half on the phone with AT&T trying to get our mobile account straightened out. The discount that we had on our joint account for 15+ years apparently doesn’t get transferred with a change-over in billing authority. They automatically ASSUME that the discount was in the spouse’s name, even eligiblity was through MY employer. I now have to go back in and re-apply for the discount, create a new account, and re-sign a new contract to get the same thing that I had before. I am sooooo tired of hearing “I’m so sorry for your loss, but there is nothing I can do. … You have to just go back and re-apply and maybe, just maybe we’ll be nice enough to review your file in a timely manner and we’ll be gracious to continue to do business with you and possibly offer you the tiniest discount we can give, which compares nothing to what you were getting, cuz’ we don’t offer that discount any more.” There are a myriad of things like this that continue to come up every month or two and it leaves me totally exhausted and feeling like that scab that was finally starting to heal just gets ripped right off again and I’m back to bleeding once again. As I sit here at my desk at work with tears streaming down my face once again …. Hoping it just makes me stronger and doesn’t leave me with a hardened heart.

  3. I don’t know if this helps, but “Six Degrees of You Being Dead” happens, though to a lesser degree, even to those of us who ran things when they were alive. I was the primary breadwinner, so I didn’t suffer financially. I’m the one who wrote the checks, hired the contractors, took the car in for service, put gas in the car. I hired a lawn service because I got tired of nagging him. But even so — when I have to call the service that sends college kids out to do odd jobs because I can’t reach the smoke detector to change the battery even with a ladder, or to change a light bulb; when I wonder who is going to drive me to my colonoscopy — I still have it. I’m fortunate about the financial situation, but even with that, my husband was so entwined in my life that there will always be that giant hole where he used to be. My heart hurts for you; you are so young for this to have happened. I can’t offer anything to you but virtual ((((HUGS)))).

    • Thank you. And yes, it those little rhythms that happen in a marriage or partnership, that you miss everyday. It changes the way you breathe. By the way, I love your screenname.

  4. I think your blog is fabulous. I’m sorry your husband is dead. I’m sorry my husband is dead. I’m heartbroken, and I look at the service now light on my dashboard and think… How on earth am I going to get my oil changed. I know good and well that I will just drive the car in and get it done. Missing the little things make it all a pain in the ass. That said, I am ok and somehow I still laugh every day. Keep writing.

  5. You’re humor and sarcasm is refreshing and bittersweet, and I totally get it. As if the worst possible thing in the world to happen isn’t enough, it creates a domino effect in the rest of your life, right? Hoping the best for you and us all, as we ride out what’s left of our time here, until we can be together again.

  6. I have been following your blog for years (I imagine from the start of your journey). I can SO relate to almost everything you write. I wish I could find a way to express myself as eloquently as you. Today’s blog hit right where I am at this moment.

    I was just thinking how, no matter what steps I take to live this new life in a way that would make me feel more “in control,” I am constantly reminded that every new step is still somehow influenced by my husband’s death. I decided to try and “find the person I was before I was married” in an effort to make this new norm more tolerable. I made new friends. I looked up old friends (from 35 years ago – before I was part of a couple). Every step towards reinventing myself into the old “self-sufficient, independent me” has been met with constant reminders that every “old” someone has A someone in their life, and I don’t. Every new and old friend is enjoying the fruits of labor that are shared by two people who are both working towards common goals and who actually have disposable income. Everyone has their own life that is like the life I envisioned for myself and my husband at this stage of our lives. Everyone has been very gracious about re-establishing old friendships, or creating new ones, BUT they are in a different place that I cannot fully share. Trying to become part of their “here and now” reminds me how I don’t really fit into it at all. Death IS annoying. Death IS a nuisance. Death IS a pain in the ass (and mostly in the heart). And Death never stops influencing every effort we make to find a new normal, because most everyone else lives a life that has not been touched by the death of the other piece of ourselves. We harness our strengths and we carry on, but it never quite fills the void created by all that we’ve had to give up. I thought I would be able to find the “me” I was before I knew how much I needed “him.” I thought I had the answers, but I now realize that I am not even sure of the questions. I hope may find some kind of contentment in this life, but I know I will always look longingly at that alternate path that was taken from me. Hopefully there is a new purpose in the path I was was dragged into, that will bring my life back into balance. This I hope for all of us on this un-chosen journey of life.

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