Day 35: squish

Today, I feel a bit like a bug that had an unfortunate encounter with a windshield. My thoughts are splayed in every direction and I worry that my sanity has scattered along with it. I feel like my husband is missing from memories. It’s like I can recall stories, I know we had a wonderful marriage and were so very close, but when it comes to conjuring being sure about his feelings for me, I come up empty. I know he loved me deeply. One friend said even before he passed that my husband “Raised the bar for what a good husband should be like.” You can’t do that without love. It is a strange thing to have things you know suddenly being so difficult to believe. I feel like I am a crazy person.

I am also struggling with fear about eventually receiving a cause of death. I am so scared that it is going to reveal I missed something I, as his wife, should have noticed about his health. When they did the initial exam, I was so hopeful it was an aneurysm because that would have been quick and impossible for me to notice. He seemed so normal that day. He was laughing, playing, and joking. He had some stress because his mother was moving across the country and was completely financially ill prepared to do so and was running into difficulty. He carried a lot of stress due to his job. I always tried my damnedest¬† to mitigate his stress by talking things out, giving him fun adventures, and even giving into getting the new puppy right before his sudden seizure. Despite knowing how hard I tried, I can’t shake the feeling I let him down in this respect and maybe my ineptitude cost him his life. It makes me feel like I let down everyone that loved him. So while I had been desperate to find out the why’s and how’s of his death, I worry it will only make me feel worse as I find some way to assign blame to me not having done something he needed.

I don’t know. I just feel so conflicted, confused, and lost.

Positive of the day: I called my dad because I felt so panicked and alone. He came over immediately and just let me cry into his shirt. I have a great dad.