Monday, March 31, 2008

April IS the cruelest month...

Dear Dazzy,
It hit me today,babe, squarely between the eyes as I was writing on my whiteboard at school.
I had to change the date in the upper left hand corner.
I stretched to erase "March," with its curly-cue black lettering...and as I picked up the green and blue markers-you know, April showers and all-I stopped.

I had to write A-p-r-i-l.

I don't want April; give it to someone else.

I don't want it's name uttered or it's presence acknowledged.

Take it away; lets fast forward time 'til May.

T.S. Eliot once wrote:

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

I used to thinnk that the cruelty consisted of his observations of the flucuation of the April weather; one day brilliant and beautiful; the next cold and rainy, not unlike winter.

Now I believe it to mean that April is cruel because she forces life to go on, regardless of the climate, both emotionally and physcially.

Two years ago, in April, you Dad, Sam, passed away. You wnet back for the funeral, got to catch up with old friends and see family.

The 20th will mark both you death and you Mum's birthday.

What could be more cruel that that?
I had a huge sobfest tonight-as I put away photos, going through files and shredding what I never need again paperwork wise from our intertwinned lives, I once again curse the universe for taking you from me.

Yesterday, I swore I smelled your "swisher" skinny cigar smoke when I was in our room and near you closet. It happened twice; and I really think it was possible that you could sense my impending meltdown. I haven't cried like this in months-and now the grief monster has retreated; I know the tears are a necessary cleansing, and I will be Ok in just a short bit.

I know that I hate turning the calendar because after the 20th, I have to start saying my husband died...MORE than a year ago.
On that one day that marks a full year, my orbit around the black holes of grief and mourning will supposedly be completed.
The irony of that statement is that I know that my orbit will really continue on, just like the planets in the night sky, and will only end when my heart supernovas and implodes upon itself in a shower of tears and emotions and unfulfilled hopes and dreams of you, my "hubby", my soulmate- and me, your sad, sad "wifey."
Like Sarah MacLoclan once wrote, "Hold on...this is gonna hurt like hell..."

Love you Dazzy. Always.
Kisses, Wifey.

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