Home Alone.....

So, here I am, in our home, alone. It's the June 2012 Tuesday Bank Holiday and I am doing this....updating a blog about me and dealing with the death of my Husband. 

Our home is not a happy home. 

Not at all.

I have found myself looking out of the living room windows a lot. 

I wait for the phone to ring, a text to ping, an email to arrive, a visitor to come to the door. 

Anything, something to indicate that I am not alone.

And yet, there is a steady, unending stream of offers of company, of help, of hugs.

I shun them all.

I find reasons to not do something.

I am very lonely.

I don't want anyone near me.

I want everyone around me.

All these offers, all these people, they all have one thing in common.......they're not John.

I love our friends and family......but......they're not my Man, my Husband, my Lover, my Best Friend.

All I want is a cuddle, a warm, furry, hairy, loving cuddle with John, that's all. The bed is such a massive cold expanse of nothing, the dogs enjoy it more than I do. I don't look forward to going to bed, nor do I sleep well. I try and I fail. Sleep is something that does not come naturally. I am still looking at the clock at 2am most nights while Max and Millie gently snore (and fart) next to me. Then, when I do sleep I awake to remember that he is dead and the whole sorry cycle commences again. It's like "Dead Groundhog Day" in this house. I look out of the bedroom windows in the morning and I see his funeral flowers. There are also flowers from his coffin in the lounge. Death has his cloak firmly wrapped around me at the moment, but from it I receive no comfort, just cold, hard fact that John is dead and I am alone again.

I remembered the other day that my first ever boyfriend also died, he committed suicide. I am now of the opinion that I am a curse, a harbinger of doom, an Angel of Death.

Stay clear, no good will come from being near me or with me.

This fuckery is driving me insane. 

I know it's a cliché but I really do feel like my mind is unravelling. Slowly but surely I am losing the firm grip I once had on life. 

I am turning into such an angry person. 

The poor dogs are receiving the brunt of my anger. Max insists on barking at passers-by and someone knocking at the door, he goes on and on and on. My temper flares up immediately and he gets a mouthful from me. I find myself really having to control myself, I'm shaking and intensely angry the minute he kicks off. The poor dog is only being a dog, doing what dogs do and I'm the one barking at him! Millie just hides away, almost fearing me. 

I bet they wish their other Dad was here. I do.

I cannot comprehend that he has gone. 

That I will never see him again. 

I cannot believe that he is dead. 

I still think he is in that hospital bed in Bremen and that this is all a big, bad mistake. They have the wrong man, the wrong body, we cremated the wrong person. The number of times I have wanted to get on a plane to Germany and check that he's not still there.....

If only.