I have begged Rick to come back to me. Angry because he isn't listening & doing it.
I have cried myself into dehydration. And if you want to argue and say you can't do such a thing? You have not taken ONE step on this journey of life after death on this earth alone.
I think there will always be a part of me angry.
Angry that Rick didn't take the steps of action into better health when he had the chance, back in 1995. Angry that he began the long slow process of giving up when he was told that he had diabetes.
Angry at doctors that have absolutely NO bedside manners, no milk of human kindness & compassion left within them - those doctors should step away from the arena of dealing with people!
Angry at the pharmaceutical companies for creating, giving away, and selling drugs that have life long, or life threatening, side effects.
Angry at a health care system that rather than deal with the root cause of problems, offering tried and true answers, and giving words of encouragement ... have, as a collective whole, decided it better to simply drug people.
Give them a drug to combat a problem, but that drug creates so many more problems, that more drugs must be given.
Offering only the negative answers "if you don't do what you are told".
Angry that Rick died and left me in this nightmare alone, scared, confused.
Angry at creditors that take things away from you because your name is not on the paperwork, yet you were married for 35 years, and you have the death certificate to prove that your husband died.
Angry at promises that were broken, leaving me without a home, without a lifetime of possessions.
Angry that my life was taken from me when Rick died.
Angry that my kids and grandkids hurt and there isn't one damn thing I can do to make it better.
Frustrated that my absence actually makes life better for others.
Simply because I am a vivid reminder that Rick no longer lives.
We were seen together for 35 years, it became no more "Rick" or "Margaret" - but "Rick & Margaret". So for them to see me makes them have to deal with their grief, and it is easier to push it all away. Easier to think that "Rick & Margaret" are living away again.
Frustrated that the world that we live in now is so much more focused on the way a person looks, or "chemistry" at first sight, than about the heart, love, devotion and commitment of a person.
Frustrated that I no longer have one to help me make decisions.
I readily admit that I don't know everything about everything.
But even in asking for help I am now met with "It's up to you". Sigh.
If I didn't want your opinion, your help, I wouldn't ask.
Frustrated that I no longer have a home, no longer do I have "me things about me", no longer do I have a vehicle that I can drive.
And the list of my anger & frustration points goes on.
While I breathe ... and hold it all in.
Wondering if it is slowly driving me crazy, or will it kill me yet?
Or perhaps it will just make me "Comfortably Numb" ... a living, walking, breathing zombie.
Then comes acceptance.
Accepting that I was loved, I was cared for, I was someone's somebody. Optimum word: WAS.
Accepting that my life is all about wandering.
Accepting that I do not belong anywhere ... let alone belonging to someone.
Accepting that this is me now.
This is my life now.
Accepting that I must make choices and decisions ...
and without the input of others.
Even others that I value their opinions and their wisdom.
Accepting that dreams are just that - - dreams.
Accepting that hopes have wings, and choose to fly away just when I need them the most.
Accepting that nightmares are now a stable part of the night.
Which means sleep deprivation is a way of life, so is rest deprivation.
Accepting that to love someone doesn't mean I will be loved back.
Accepting that to give of myself means that I will often feel empty and yearn to just be held.
Accepting that the skin hunger will scream louder than anything else on earth at times.
Accepting that life goes on, even when I don't want it to.
I thought that was a good word.
Life goes on.