Here I am, in the aftermath of my husband’s death, concerned about how painful the upcoming milestones will be – my daughter’s birthday, his birthday, Father’s Day – and then today, my daughter alerted me for the first time before the fact that she needed to use the potty. And she did – not a false alarm! I was so happy! We jumped around and danced and celebrated and high-fived all over the place.
I will need to learn to look forward to positive milestones, growth milestones, rather than just focusing with dread at milestones I’m scared of or worried about.
My husband was the only one I could trust with finances. We made financial decisions together, but I wanted him to manage it all, since he was actually running the home. He was a house husband and stay at home dad (after many unhappy years as a general contractor). I was (still am, I suppose) the executive with the corner office in the big city who worked and traveled to bring in *money money money*.
But he wouldn’t let me spend it!
He left us with a good emergency fund and a conservative monthly budget… and I’ve been spending on me and my little girl like crazy since I learned he ended his life. The retail therapy can’t last forever. I have a little girl to take care of, college to save for, vacations and family travel to plan, groceries to buy, and bills to pay, but it feels good to feel free of his imposed restrictions for a little bit.
There are other ways I’m rebelling. I’m changing the house a little. Giving away plants, buying new bedding, changing the position of the living room furniture. A stubby, sad, pouting middle finger gesture to him.
My husband passed away last Wednesday, 3/15. Hm, that’s delicate. Rather: he decided to take his life.
It’s an emotional time, of course. I am now a widow, a single mother to a lovely nearly-4-year-old girl. I was married to his depression as much as I was married to him, so I can’t say with honesty that this outcome hadn’t crossed my mind before. But I never really thought it would come to pass. After all, he had good days as well as bad. Wouldn’t that be enough to keep going?
Apparently not. We needed to give it a little more time to discover the right medication combination and dosage that would get him back on even keel. It just happened to be time he didn’t have.
I thought I knew everything about him. I thought we shared everything. But he didn’t share with me that he purchased a gun two years ago. I’m reeling not just from the loss, but that the trueness of our partnership is now dubious. I feel somewhat foolish, as well as sad, mad, scared, alone, and uncertain.