@gizmo, I bought the pie pumpkins on a whim, 4 for $3 so I was in a better frame of mind then. I was also good that morning so, the pie stuff was done in a motivated phase. I usually make pie from scratch every year, it's just so much harder this year because I now have to eat an entire pie to myself. If hubby were here, the pie would be gone by now.
The dog has yeasty paws again. I have to chase him down twice a day to soak his feet - again. I've changed his food three times for crying out loud. It's so hard to know who to believe, the vet seems in it for the $$,and the people at the pet stores seem to see $ signs when you walk in. Today it was suggested to me to change him to a raw food diet to re-balance his internal flora. Uggh. My friend's dog is on a raw food diet, she said his paws aren't as yeasty smelling as they were before but they still smell. Raw food is very expensive and ridiculous to prepare. Don't feed him sugar, make sure his treats are meat only, feed him a carb free diet , eliminate potatoes, sweet potatoes, all grains, rice, corn...and the list goes on. Mind boggling!
My husband would have absolutely hated this issue. He hated feet. It was a total thing with him. He hated all feet. As a medic, if he had a foot call, he would hand off to his partner if he could. If I was lying on the couch beside him and my feet got anywhere near him, socks on even, he would move away from them. Heaven forbid they accidentally touched him, wow, he would accuse me of doing it on purpose. I hurt my ankle once and when it came to wrapping my foot, he refused to help (until I pointed out that I was unable to do it properly on my own). He wouldn't even look at his own feet, his worst day was when he had to trim his nails. Dealing with the dogs feet would have been my responsibility.
I don't know how to get over this intense missing him right now. I was wracked with nightmares all night - dog woke me up several times from them strangely, I was glad he was there. That pain is there just below the surface eating away at me, so much so that I went to lay down on the bed this afternoon and could smell his scent, so I held the sleeve of his shirt and cried myself to sleep for an hour. In one of my nightmares last night, my husband was in trouble and I couldn't help him. I could see him, he was crying and in pain and I couldn't get to him because this shadowy presence kept stopping me and it felt like it was trying to pull me down into the earth. The dog jumped up on the side of the bed and started whining. I woke up and realized I must have been struggling to cry out.
I miss my husband. He shouldn't be dead. He should not be gone. He should be here. He should be with me, in OUR house, living OUR life. I don't want to live life alone.
I posted my pain on a fb group the other day and received a strange response from one woman - "I think we all understand that our loved one won't be sitting across from us anymore......it's difficult, we get it." Ummm, I was hurting, and I got a seemingly snarky response like that from someone who's always posting about her pain? I rarely post there. No one there cares if I stub my toe and he's not there to kiss me better so i don't post these things like some women do but I know if I'm in some severe pain, I can turn to people who know and get some support. She wasn't very supportive. It almost made me quit the group. I felt so alone again. Others say 8 months is not a long time, still others who're years from their loss seem to think I should be starting to "get over it".
At what point are you ready to "make it your life"? Are you ever really ready? I haven't touched any of his things in the room, in the shower. I looked at his things in the shower the other day and said to myself, "At some point I will have to reclaim this shelf" and I felt a stab of guilt in my guts so I immediately said to myself, "Not yet, though. I'm not ready. I can't let go of him yet." I looked at his towel hanging on the back of the door and I thought, "his bits are still in that towel. It's just as it was the day before he died, the last time he used it. The real him is still in that towel. He was alive then."
He was here and then he was gone. A whole person, just gone in an instant. A whole life, just erased in an instant. He was a person. He was alive. He lived a whole life. He had all these experiences. All of that is gone. It doesn't exist anymore. He is a memory. I don't like that. It's not right. It's not like how it should be. It should be that he is still here, alive. bitching, complaining, laughing, smiling, hugging and kissing. He should still be experiencing this life. He should not have left. He never should have left it. It wasn't his time. It was NOT his time to leave.
It wasn't up to him. It was not supposed to be up to him.
I just miss him so much. It's killing me inside. I can't breathe. I just need him here again. It wasn't up to him, it was OUR life.