It's 4 months today since Rick took his own life. Every time the 18th of the month comes around, I always tell myself that it's just a date...and a date doesn't need to be given such power. But somehow, the power is already there. I go to sleep on the night of the 17th of each month preparing for the next morning. And I wake up on the 18th of each month since May 18th feeling heavy. Remembering.
It's not so much the anniversary of a death date (though it is a painful reminder of that too) as it is the anniversary of the day my life drastically changed. I can't help but think to myself each time, "1 month ago, my life was different," "2 months ago, my life was different," "3 months ago, my life was different," and now, "4 months ago, my life was different..."
Thinking about a time before grief...it just seems so far away.
Rick has been dead for 4 months. It seems like so much longer. And yet, it seems like no time at all. It seems like mere weeks ago that I came home from being Manager on Duty that Sunday and found the note that made my heart stop beating.
Today, I could feel the tears waiting behind my eyes at different points in my work day. Nothing was triggering the tears except my own thoughts...my own realization that Rick has in fact been gone for 4 months. When I got home from work, I went for a run. And here I sit, in the total darkness of my living room, telling myself to get upstairs to take a shower...telling myself to make some dinner...telling myself to turn on some music, or hell, some lights.
This four month mark is a weird one. I didn't expect there to be any significance to 4 months. But here I am, the seasons changing, my birthday and the holidays approaching, and all of the television series beginning again. I watched a lot of TV with Rick and it's so frustrating and sad to think that he isn't going to find out what happens on any of these shows. Like, it's SILLY. But it keeps crossing my mind.
And I realize that there are some things we watched together that I don't think I'll watch anymore. I'm not the same alone as I was with Rick. I guess that's the easiest way to put it.
I think I've completely given up that little tug on the heart that wishes for a different outcome. There is no way to change the past. There are only ways to move on.
I have a lot to complain about...but I have so much more to be thankful for.
I just listened to the 6 voicemails I have from Rick that are on my phone. He asks me to come home. He tells me to pick up a prescription at the pharmacy. He tells me my angels were here, because our driveway miraculously got shoveled in the snowstorm while I was stuck at work. He asks me if I should get Jenn some vegan milk at the store. At the beginning of every message, he calls me "baby" and at the end of every message, he tells me he loves me.
As I blogged, my mom and dad went out to dinner tonight at a new restaurant. The owner came over to talk to them and introduce himself. My mom called me from the restaurant. "Guess what his name was," she said.