Last night when I went up to bed I heard Madi crying. I went into the room and she had the covers over her head and was weeping in to the pillow. I asked her what was wrong. She looked up at me and said, "I want my daddy." I held her and hugged her and rocked her. I told her that I want daddy too. I told her that we are going to be okay and we are going to be happy. I told her that daddy is safe and happy in heaven. Everyday my heart breaks again.

I met Angie at the Gypsy Cafe on the South Side for dinner the other night.. We drank wine and ate rich Mediterranean dips and pasta entrees. We laughed and joked. For a couple hours I felt normal again. There are only a few people I can laugh with these days. I had a good couple hours.

We went over to the Rex Theatre to talk to Chris and Bill about the next Rich Rust benefit show. Those guys have been great and generous and determined to make the next show another event to be remembered. They are genuine and sweet about it.

Ethan is one now. I can't believe it. He has so much personality. He sings and claps and snaps and dances. He does this dance where he raises both his arms and snaps his fingers and clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his bum. His daycare teachers told me that people come to the infant room to watch him dance. He now has four teeth and can walk as long as he is holding on. He laughs out loud and it's the sweetest sound I've heard since Madi laughed out loud. He has made a game of him trying to get up the stairs before I can catch him. I grab hold of him and he throws his head back and screams with delight. I really have to get a gate! He touches his nose when you ask him where it is. He gives kisses and makes that pucker sound. He pinches me really hard when he is irritated with me. He hugs me tight when I tell him I love him.

His teachers also told me that he loves to play the piano. I almost fell to the floor. I said, "His dad is - was - is a piano player." I choked on the tense. I can't speak of Rich in the past tense. At the same time, I don't want the day care staff to think I'm delusional. I refuse to speak or think of him in the past tense. Although I can't hear his voice, I feel his beautiful soul beside me.

Again, last Wednesday, Madison pointed to the sky and told her soccer coach, "My daddy had to go to heaven. The angels took him." He heard her this time. I think I even heard a gasp from another parent on the other side of the gym. It felt like the room collapsed on me. I had to walk out to the hallway. I cried quietly yet uncontrollably for about 3 minutes. I dried my face and returned to the gym. She didn't even know I left for a moment. I just kept thinking - don't react - don't react. She tells him that every week at the very same time during the practice. I asked her why she tells Coach Dave that daddy is in heaven. She said, "Because I like to." We didn't go to the last practice. Madi told me that she doesn't like to play soccer. Plus, the anticipation of her telling the coach that Rich is in heaven causes me too much apprehension.

I realized yesterday that I don't think I have health insurance. Kim found me temporary coverage several months ago. Key word being "temporary". I noticed the payments for it haven't come out of my account in at least three months. One would think that information would motivate me to find out more or to scramble and try to myself health insurance. Nope. It's amazing what a broken heart can cause you to stop caring about. Although, I did write it on my list of things to do - that I don't usually do.

My inaction has caused a plethora of financial problems. I think my credit is pretty much destroyed. And it's not that I can't pay my student loans or gas bill - it's just not in my realm of consciousness - until I get a brightly colored bill or my cable or long distance goes off. I swear I used to be responsible with my bills. It might be time to think about going back to work. I think I have too much time to sit around and be sad. I don't know what I want to do, though. I have a Master's degree in Education and I've always worked with at-risk youth. But, right now I just don't have anything to give them.

I'd like to be a writer, but I don't think I could do it on demand. I only write things down now to purge pain and suicidal thoughts from my body and mind. Rich is so talented. He could sit down and make the most mundane task into something hysterical. Like his UPS journal. If you haven't - you should read some of his journals - they are so funny. I love that we have so much of his writing. But, I can't read them, yet. I become so angry that someone so young and talented and beautiful was taken from us. Also, Bill added a couple new things to the site. You can click on "rich rust experience" and see a list of the songs he wrote with John. There are three songs you can actually listen to. One of which is "Heavy Year". I cry every time I listen to it. It's almost foreboding.

Last week was a bad week. I slept alot of it away. This isn't even restful anymore. The anxiety and guilt of my non-action causes me an additional weird pain. And weird dreams. I had a dream that Rich broke up with me and told me he didn't love me anymore. I had a dream that he used drugs and cheated on me. I don't know where this stuff is coming from. Maybe he is trying to get me out of bed and be productive.

I feel as if I lost my place in this life. I had a direction. I was working toward a goal and now it's gone. I know this isn't true because I have my children. But, I'm saying- this is how it feels. I feel as if I've been victimized. The universe has perpetrated a horrific crime against me and my children. That must sound so selfish. And maybe it is selfish. Grief is selfish and this grief is mine. It feels like no one else in the world could possibly feel the way I do. I promised him I wouldn't fall apart, but I'm such a mess. I can exist without him, but I can't live without him. I can't breathe. I can't laugh. I can't feel. I can't think. I can't appreciate. I can't love. These things are not going to change until I allow them to. These things I should keep to myself.