Today is our 11 year anniversary (September 25, 2004). This may be odd, but I'm grateful we made it to double digits. Each year he would tease me and pretend he couldn't remember how long it had been. I'd tell him the number and then say, "that's way too long". He would always do something so sweet and thoughtful. On our first anniversary, he wrote me a book. It was a book about our first year together. We lived in Oakland and he worked at Vibes. I remember trying not to cry in the store as I read it. In 1994, I wasn't willing to admit I was in love. He had the book bound and everything. Now, it is the most valuable thing I have. Oh God, I miss him!! I don't even know who I am without him. I'm hard to love, but I remember he was determined and dedicated from the beginning.

Rich is a more evolved soul than me. He recognized that we are soul mates from the moment he saw me. I went with some friends to see the Nixon Clocks at the Decade one night in 1993. I was with Kim and a couple girls I don't communicate with anymore. I got up to go to the restroom - nothing out of the ordinary. When I returned, Kim informed me, "That keyboard player stared at you the whole way you walked across the room". I replied a simple, yet sarcastic, "oh, really". I was a different person then. I was used to boys admiring from a far - nothing usually came of it. I remember Kim and I went to an Affordable Floors show at Graffiti. A boy came up to us and asked if he could sit where we were sitting and we would understand once the show started. When the Floors began, they suddenly stopped the show. They told the audience that the keyboard player had to go home because he forgot to record "A Current Affair". (I remember that because I liked that show! I also remember their Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill comments.) They turned to the audience pretending to invite just anyone to take his place. The spotlight went to where Kim and I had just been and they called that blond boy to the stage. Kim turned to me and said, "Hey, that's that keyboard player that was starring at you at the Decade!" I guess I'm talking about this because I trying to remember life pre-Rich. Well, not that I'm trying, it just crossed my mind. I hardly remember it.

Even though I'm not crying in front of her, Madi knows I'm having a difficult day. She said to me, "I'm sorry my daddy is in heaven". My two year old - she is amazing - she tries so hard to ease my pain. I often say to her, "I'm sorry daddy is in heaven, but he had to go there to feel better. He feels better now". Madi and Ethan keep me alive.
Usually, when I write these entries my tears splash the monitor. I wipe away those little spectrums and I remember how it irritated him when I'd leave my finger prints on the screen.

A few weeks ago I went out to dinner with my mother. This was out of what is now the "norm" for me considering there are only about 3 people I talk to regularly. Anyway, my mom asked me if I've been to the cemetery. I told her that I do not know the name of that place nor do I even know where it is. Those few days of the funeral are a blur. I honestly don't know how I survived that. It was so wrong. I remember that little building we went to was cold. I remember sarcastically thinking, "Did they not know we were coming?" I don't remember who was talking to the group, but I'm fairly sure he didn't know me or my husband. My mother told me she had visited the site and he is under a tree and he is in a pretty spot and he is not in the sun. I suppose she was trying to assure me he is comfortable. I explained to her that he is not there. That is not him. I don't need to go there. He is with me - where he belongs - I feel him - I talk to him everyday. I don't need to go there to be near him. Then, of course, I exploded in to tears and we had to leave the restaurant. (The kids were with my sister.)

I'm actually (I say actually a lot) getting ready to order the marker for his grave. There are a bunch of rules involved with it. Plus, you have to wait a certain amount of time before you can put the stone there - ground settling and such. My sister who owns a cemetery (Birmingham in Carrick) is going to help me. I can't believe I'm actually writing about this, but I think I want it to have a musical note on it and maybe have it read, "Night night daddy, you rest". Those are the last words Madi said to him. My stomach is in knots. I can't let Madi hear me cry... (Words I hate: grave, casket, cemetery, buried, dead, died, hospice, melanoma, cancer, and mostly - widow)

Since I quit my job, I had to find private insurance. Well, I didn't do it, Kim did it for me. But, anyway, the new insurance won't cover the cost of my antidepressants - because they consider it a preexisting condition. (I wonder if they'll cover my hospital stay after the nervous breakdown I have because I'm without my medication? Hmmm, I wonder if they considered the cost to suture my wrists closed?)

So, over the past few weeks I pretty much stopped taking them. This was not a well thought out decision. Almost immediately I started to get this weird feeling in my head. I've had this feeling before when I've run out of medication. It's hard to describe. I call it a "missed synapse". It's like this slight flash of dizziness and it happens about once a minute. But, even worse, I was hurled into this horrific darkness. I was consumed with suicidal ideations. I keep finding bits of fanatical rantings written on scraps of paper and unopened mail. Some is so graphic I'm hesitant to even reiterate it. Stuff like: X-acto knife; lacerate; jugular vein; less than a minute to bleed to death, blah, blah, blah.
I woke up the other morning to realize: First, that I was surprised I woke up, but also, I'm either going to die or I have to not only allow myself, but actually put forth some effort in to healing. I decided to heal. I can't stay stuck in sorrow and despair. I don't want him to be disappointed in me. I don't want my children to be disappointed in me. I don't want to be disappointed that I actually wake up...

So, I made an appointment with my PCP. She is aware of the situation, in fact she was aware of it before it became "the situation". I told her what I've been thinking about and doing the last few weeks. She assured me that much of it is normal grieving. She prescribed a new antidepressant and also an anti-anxiety drug. She gave me samples of one and I just bought the other. I'd rather just pay for it in cash than with my life. But, she said, if I keep buying things - that's a whole different medication! Oh, I've become quite susceptible to infomercials over the past few months. I even have a QVC membership! Although, Kim may have disposed of that card when she was here the other night.

Oct. 4 - A woman in a restaurant bathroom today infuriated me. I was changing Madi's pull-up when an older woman came from one of the stalls. She wasn't elderly or anything - she looked to be in maybe her mid to late sixties. She was by no means old, which makes what she said all the more bizarre. She said to me, "You're doing that for her now. In thirty or forty years, she'll be doing that for you". I thought to myself, "WHAT?" Then Madi actually said, "What?" The woman looked at Madi and told her she was trying to give her mommy a different perspective. That was the extent of her comments, but what I "heard" was her telling me how lucky I am to be young and what a drag it is getting older. As I imagined myself lunging for her to shake the life out of her, I thought, first of all: why are you talking to me - all the pain and anger I feel, cannot possibly make me look or even appear approachable? Second, are you out of your mind? Third, lady, you have no idea what I'm going through, believe me, I've got all the perspective I NEVER wanted. Next, you need to get some "perspective" and not make assumptions about people based on the way they look. AND, I would give ANYTHING to grow old with my husband. AND, my child is already stranger-friendly (not really, but), I don't need people striking up a conversation with her in a public restroom. Lastly, in thirty years, I WILL ONLY BE 64! I STILL get carded for god's sake! It took me a second to compose myself. I didn't say any of the things I was thinking, of course. I simply furrowed by brow and said, "I'm hoping to NOT live that long". Stupefied, she walked out of the bathroom. Again, Madi looked at me and said, "What?"
Kim said I overreacted. Maybe, but I don't think so. Well, I did have to take a Xanax to attend a six year olds birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's last week. I was among good friends, yet still it was not a pretty sight. It's probable I'm still a little terrified about socializing and being in public. Speaking of, I'm considering going to the Rex this Saturday night. There is an Elvis Costello tribute show going on and the proceeds are being donated to a local women's shelter. Rich likes Elvis Costello. Kim will come with me, of course, and Grammy agreed to keep Madi and Ethan overnight. But, if I actually think about it for too long, my stomach heaves from anxiety. I've really only gone out twice since "it" happened. And, both times were to celebrate Rich. It's difficult to remember when I was whole and normal. I want to remember.

Remember
Always remember to forget,
The things that made you sad.
But never forget to remember,
The things that made you glad.

Always remember to forget,
The friends that proven untrue.
But don't forget to remember,
Those that have stuck by you.

Always remember to forget,
The troubles that passed away.
But never forget to remember,
The blessings that come each day.