Misery Loves Company

Not sure its fair to say I’m miserable. Still numb. But thawing.

I think a lot about George, about my situation, about the future and our loss. Lily and I talk about it, and if she sees I’m drifting she asks if I am “thinking of him.” Of course I am. He was hard not to think about even when I saw him every day. Now, I think about him obsessively, trying to imprint details on my memory. I am the one with the crappy memory, he was the one that remembered everything.

His good memory is what brought him back to me. When he contacted me, he said he had been in several relationships that had made him feel he’d never be really loved again. So that led him to ask himself when he had felt loved, and that question led him to me. His confidence in my love was a high compliment, and one I never took for granted. To know you have made someone feel loved is such a gift. I’ve known so many friends who are never really sure if they have been truly loved, and so many who have loved deeply and been misunderstood or dismissed. So when he came back to me, and told me why, I tried to take good care of his heart. And I was pretty successful until it was taken from me.

Of course, once again I can’t sleep. I’m enjoying being in Asheville, as much as one can enjoy going someplace for a memorial service for their deceased husband. It’s beautiful here, and people are friendly and open, and pretty laid back. There’s an abundance of alterna-types, and that’s something I feel comfortable with, coming from New Orleans where people are free to just be. The restaurants are good. I love the downtown buildings and the fact that the downtown is vital and thriving. I checked and there are 30 art galleries here, even a Southern Folk Art place, and that makes me happy since I have collected that stuff for 20 years. So this feels more like home than home.

Cathy is here for the service, and of course Sara. Tomorrow Anne Boston will be here, and Andy Orlin and Scott Trowbridge, George’s old pals, are coming up too. His best friend Dan McElroy will be here. So I have lots of friends to share this last celebration of George with, and that feels good.

But the knowledge that George is really, finally gone is seeping in and that doesn’t feel good at all. I find myself obsessing on his last moments, the accident, and what could have and should have been. I’m hopeful for the future, because I’m a hopeful kind of girl. But I’m angry too, about his death, and I know it will be a long time before my laugh sounds normal in my own ears and my smile goes back into my eyes. Life is beautiful, and a gift, and I don’t plan to waste any of it feeling sorry for myself, but I do feel sad, and thoughtful, and lonesome for the familiar feeling of being half of a whole.

Happy or sad, alone or together, we’re all here for such a short time. A lot of you believe there’s more after this life, a lot think this is it. I’m somewhere in between, and I’ll probably stay there. I hope I can move forward and give Lily the happy childhood she deserves, that I can find people to fill in for George so she feels the love of a father figure, that I can not screw things up. Raising a child is a big enough job when you do it with a partner. Alone, it’s absolutely terrifying. I intend to do the best I can for Lily, for me, and for George, who was everything we ever could have dreamed of and much, much more.

Related posts:

1. Til Death
2. And So It Goes…
3. Down and Dirty
4. 16 Days to… Reality
5. Milestones

Tagged as: anger, Asheville, george maddox, grief, lily maddox, lisa maddox, single parent, widow