My time in California is coming to an end. Tomorrow I fly back to the east coast, and I’m wavering back and forth on whether it was a good idea to come here this week. My grief counselor didn’t think it was a great idea and now I completely understand. My head was not right and neither was my heart. I never had the chance to meet my niece because I couldn’t bare to look at her without thinking she was born while I lost the most important person in my life. I’m starting more to also consider I’m just not ready to bring more love into my heart. Ill talk it over with someone objective.
Due to my inability to be around a newborn, my sister took me around Silver Lake today shopping and treating myself. This morning was rough because my mom kept asking if I really didn’t know George was as sick as he was while we were dating, and my optimism can be quickly transformed and labeled as naive or ignorant. It’s so easy for her to point this out after he’s dead, like oh how could you hav not seen this coming? But no one did. We returned from our honeymoon on October 25 and exactly one month later he was leaving our apartment in a body bag. His final stage came extremely quickly. I’m a broken record.
So my sister took my dress shopping and after trying on a couple dresses I kept telling her I’ve let myself go. I just feel horribly unattractive. George always made me feel beautiful even on days I woke up disheveled. Admittedly once I found out he wasnt going to get better back in September I stopped working out and just didn’t care about myself. It’s starting to show. I tried on the second to last dress in the bunch and when I saw myself in the mirror I felt like George was looking back at me saying “do you know how beautiful you are?” I bought it seconds later.
My mood did begin to get better as the day progresses. We got pedicures and I got my eyebrows done. The little bit we did helped my mood tremendously and it was the best mental day of the week. But the looming return back east might be playing a part as well. I don’t feel George as much out here. There’s more reminders back home and I need them to get by. Without them all there is left is a void in my heart and a desperate need for symbols and signs.
On Monday November 25th at 5:35am the love of my life breathed his last breath. He could no longer fight the cancer that was growing inside him. He was only 46 years old and we had married 2 months and six days prior.
Within a time frame of less than three months, we had a wedding, went on our honeymoon and then I had to plan his funeral. There is nothing to be merry about this Christmas.
George’s favorite thing to do around the holidays is dress as Santa. He would put his Santa suit on and deliver presents to his family. He would also surprise his neighbors kids as well. All day I was looking at pictures of George in his Santa costume whether he was at Santa Con in NYC or in Ohio or CT. It was a tradition that he showed me and I looked forward to it.
We always would stay up late on Christmas Eve watching the old time movies like Miracle on 34th street or its a wonderful life. We both loved George Bailey and how the town came to his aide. It’s more than a Christmas movie, it’s the first movie, as George would point out, that you became emotionally attached to the protagonist to succeed. As George coined it, the first oblivious protagonist.
Without his hand to hold, shoulder to rest on, and his comforting voice, Christmas meant nothing to me. It was just another Wednesday where I had to choke back the tears and excuse myself when I couldn’t handle the grief that would overcome me. I spent the day outside on my brother’s patio in LA watching Netflix on my iPad. My entire family was around, caring for me and showing me love, but there’s only one person I wanted love from today. And all I can do is look at pictures from a better and happier time. And when the happiness from the pictures evaporates with the realization ill never have that again, I distract my sorrow with some meaningless show that I can stream instantly.
This was supposed to be my first Christmas as a married woman. Cancer took my husband, stole my Christmas, and obliterated my heart.
There’s a number of things George and I talked about doing together. We spoke freely about plans for the future without considering that there was a chance that there wouldn’t be a future for us. Wow. That’s a really hard stream of consciousness for you right there. I must be the most naive person on the planet. I truly thought I was going to be happily married for years. Not weeks. This isn’t the point of my daily debriefing.
We travelled to LA last thanksgiving and the only regret we had was not doing the TMZ Tour. So the plan for this years California trip was to go on the tour. My sister and her boyfriend accompanied me on the tour and I was do elated to be there. While waiting to go on the tour you wait in this candy store and I quickly honed in on a bag of skittles. One thing George and I did frequently was split a bag of wild berry skittles. It was one of our favorite treats. He always picked the green ones out for me because those were my favorites. The thought of not having him to share my skittles with saddens me tremendously. When I found out in September he wasn’t going to get better, I cried saying “who’s going to share my bag of skittles?” Something so small carries a huge meaning.
So we were supposed to do the tour together so I got the skittles to “share” with him. I ate half the bag during the tour (which was 2 hours). But being carted around Hollywood and Beverly Hills was a ton of fun. And I knew he would’ve loved to be there. George was the best at picking out celebrities and I made a faulty call on seeing Bradly Cooper. I’m sure if George was there he would’ve been seeing tons of arbitrary celebs.
I do think its important for my mental health to do the activities that we were planning on doing. It’s a little weird to do them without him, but he’s there in spirit right? At least I hope so. I miss him and want to feel next to him as much as possible.
This will be short:
Everyday I’m treading water in a whirlpool. It’s becoming harder to keep my head above water. I’m getting pulled down fast and there’s nothing I can do. Like aspiring actors who come to LA, this place is shucking my heart and all that remains is a shell of myself. I’m drowning.
Right now I’m sitting alone in a hotel room typing this post on my iPhone. So it’ll be short and to the point because auto correct is already getting annoying. This morning I flew out to LA with my parents, brother, and my brothers girlfriend to spend the holidays my sister and my other brother and his new family. Last time I was in LA was a little over a year ago with George.
At some point on the 6 hour flight it hit me; this is my first vacation in almost 5 years without my soulmate. I know with grief you’re supposed to let it all out, but seeing that I was wedged against the window thanks to the gentleman who was sitting next to me and hadnt mastered the concept of personal space, I buried my emotions. By doing so it led to a monster headache. It felt like a knife was scraping the inside of my skull.
When I got off the flight I didn’t want to create a scene in the airport so I just stared at the ground and bit the inside of my lip. The moment we left and got to the hotel room that was supposed to be shared with George, I let it all out. I truly felt alone.
Less than a half hour later it was time to drive to my brothers house to finally meet the newest member of my family; my niece. I’ve been dreading this since George died. It’s the whole new life mixed with death. psychologically I couldn’t handle it.
We parked and started walking up the hill to his place. Something started to happen to me that I’ve never felt before. It was so hazy but ill try to describe it as best as possible:
From where the car was to the gate of his house couldn’t have been more than a 2 minute walk. But from the moment I opened the car door and got out my head was light. Not like how you stand up too quickly lightheadedness, but like high altitude lightheaded. As we were walking up the stairs, I felt weaker and my vision crossed. But not double vision when you’ve had too much to drink, but when you snap out of dozing off and you need to refocus. Once we opened the gate, I broke down. I hadn’t cried like this ever. I couldn’t breathe, I was gasping for air like the tears were filling up my lungs. I couldn’t pull myself together to see my new niece. I couldnt even look at my brother. I was all alone and I honestly felt it today for the first time and I just crashed. My family was saying they understand, but how could they? Everyone there had their significant other. No one has had the luxury I’ve had of signing the papers to have their loved one cremated. How can they understand what I’m going through? This is beyond comprehension and I dont even know how I’m getting by.
I’m falling apart in California.