I had another dream about Rich. I hardly ever dream of him. I pray to see him in my sleep and this was the third dream in as many weeks. However, this time he wasn't so patient with me. The details are cloudy, but the message was clear. I don't remember where we were this time, but he was in some nondescript room. Again, he didn't have clothes on. And again it wasn't an issue. (If you have been following this nightmare, before Rich passed away he wanted all his clothes off. This was completely out of character for him.) In the dream, I said to him, "I want you back!" He said, "Deni!" In a tone, that under normal circumstances, I would have NOT cared for. "I can not come back. I love you guys, but I don't want to be there. I want to be here. God has given me a gift."
I want so badly to believe this was a message and not my subconscious trying to make me let go. In the 13 months he's been gone, I've received several messages that read, "Let me go " in some way or another. I don't feel like listing them because I don't want to hear it. I don't want to listen to the message. I won't let go. I can't let go. I want to fight and scream and kick and scratch and bite and fight some more to hold on to him.

It's hard to be in public. I miss our way of communicating. I miss the subtle glances to draw the others attention to something silly or absurd that we didn't want anyone else to notice. I miss our discreet touches and the smiles from across the room. Now, I usually only do things with Kim or my sister and niece. It's pretty much going out to eat, or going to The Open Mind, or taking the kids to the mall. Sometimes there will be a get together with Wendy, Kim's sister, and a few people they have been friends with for many years. They are a warm group of friends. They are genuine and good and I feel safe with them. By "safe" I mean I know they are not judging me. They knew me before Rich. They knew us as a couple. They don't expect me to now act in any certain way. They know what I've lost. They loved him, too. Some of them don't even read the journals because they are so sad. I can laugh with them and not feel guilty. I can cry in front of them and they understand. This is important to me - that I don't feel I have to act or look a certain way. So many people told me that they were, "surprised at how well you were holding up" at the funeral. I find this a curious thing to say to me, especially since at the funeral, I WOULD HAVE SLIT MY WRISTS IN FRONT OF THEM HAD ANYTHING SHARP BEEN AVAILABLE TO ME. Anyway, I guess the reason for that was because I was taking fist- fulls of the anti-anxiety medicine the doctor prescribed. I wonder if that's why Ethan is so mellow? (Just kidding.)

Last Saturday night Kim and I went to the Cheesecake Factory to meet Wendy and Bill for dinner. It was very casual and we had drinks and appetizers at the bar. I noticed that one of the bartenders was pretty cute and I mentioned it to Kim. Immediately after the words left my mouth I felt horrible. I couldn't believe I actually said that! As brief as the thought was, I was completely revolted that I thought it. I know it didn't mean anything. I thought people were good looking without guilt when all was well with me and Rich. But, this time it felt so wrong. It scared me. I do not want any other partner than Rich! I just want to make that clear. The thought of another boy, any other boy, is sickening to me. Plus, I felt so guilty for thinking it!. So, I immediately said, "for you, I mean". (Hmm, I guess now is an okay time to mention Kim and Steve's divorce will be final any day now...) I was so freaked out by thinking someone was cute, I declared to Kim, " You know what? I'm done. I'm out. I can't do it. I don't want to ever do it. I can never love someone else or have a relationship again." And I meant it. Kim said, with one eye higher than the other and a slight nod of her head, "That's healthy."
Anyway, we decided to leave the restaurant and go to another bar that Wendy wanted to go to. As Kim and I walked to her car we decided to check out the new Irish pub. I had never been there. Here is where we ran into a college acquaintance who knew nothing of me and Rich. The conversation was harmless enough. Then he asked, "How about you guys? Did you get married or kids or anything?" At that moment - it was time to go.
At this point we thought maybe the drive to where Wendy and Bill went was too long. I suggested going to the Rex. I know Chris and I was hoping his sister Heather, who is side splitting hysterical, would be there. This sounded pretty safe. However, upon arrival, we discover - people we went to high school were there! So, imagine, a time in my life where I feel vulnerable and that my identity and everything pure and right in my life has been ripped away - I run into people who knew me at 17 years old. I was petrified. I could not go near them. Kim, however was pretty popular in high school. (Trust me, not as nice as it sounds. She was the girl that other girls hated because guys liked her and guys hated because they couldn't have her. This is entirely my observation only.) It was all so overwhelming and stressful, I decided I'm going back into seclusion. No more answering the phone, no opening the mail, no answering the front door for me for awhile... It's gonna take an act of God (who I'm pissed at, btw) or an Affordable Floors show (who is the only music I can listen to without crying) to get me out of the house!
But, seriously, the folks we ran into were nothing but compassionate and nice. I don't know why I have this fear that someone is going to be mean to me. I'm so afraid someone is going to make fun of it or blame it on me. I'm so afraid of doing something wrong. I'm so afraid this has happened because of something I did and someone is going to point it out to me. And then there is the whole guilt thing about having fun...

I keep hearing the Gin Blossoms. I never had a strong liking of their two songs, but they keep making me cry. Then I remembered that one night, very early in our relationship, DJ Spike played them at the Upstage. I guess they were relatively new and Rich told me that his cousin Dan said the singer sounded like Rich. So, nearly 12 years later, a mediocre band is contributing to my depression. Bastards.

I guess I have to finally admit that there are no words, or pills, or prayers, or empty bottles of wine that can help me to feel better. I'm beginning to fear that if I keep up this wallowing much longer, I'm going to get sick. I don't mean cold or flu sick. I mean something nasty. But, I think of his face, his smile, and I tremble and lose my breath. I find myself watching a movie and I say out loud what I would say to him as if he was sitting next to me. I am so angry!

I hope that PCP saw the Post-Gazette article. I hope he saw our young faces. I hope he noticed how healthy and beautiful we were. I hope he went to the site and read the journals - mine and Rich's. I hope he laughed at Rich's life and wit and vibrancy. I hope he read mine and they made him weep and choke. I hope they made him scream and cry the way I do when I write them. I hope they made him lose sleep. I hope he looked into the faces of my children and I hope he asked his God for forgiveness. I hope he knows I blame him. I'm not looking for someone to blame. (Well, maybe I am.) I know Rich's cancer was insidious. Maybe even unbeatable, but the blood work in July, JULY. showed a problem - and the PCP didn't tell us - he went on vacation. He did not tell us. I have those results - even I can see a problem. Why didn't he tell us? Rich should have been able to touch and see and smell and kiss Ethan. Even if his life couldn't be saved - he should have held Ethan...
I try to take comfort in that - he'll have to make things right with Rich in another life time. He'll have to make it right with both Madi and Ethan, too. As for me - I am incensed. He should pray he never encounters me again.

On Madi's first Valentine's Day, in 2002, Rich got us a cell phone. He said he just wanted to always be able to know that we were okay and we could contact help if we ever needed it.. Well, I think that cell phone has about had it. I can't even get it to charge. But, I just can't part with it. So, I've been without one for over a week now. I guess that kinda defeats Rich's purpose of giving it to us. It's our second Valentine's Day apart in twelve years. It doesn't really bother me, though. It doesn't bring out any sadness that I don't feel every day anyway. Rich and I never made a big deal about it. I know who my Valentine is. I know where he is. Sometimes I think I even know why he is there. We know what we are. We never questioned it. We are endless.

contact me: denirust2004@yahoo.com