Everyone Needs A Down Day

Today we are dealing with typical WA fall/winter weather. It's cold, dreary, and pouring buckets of rain outside. Last night the wind was blowing so hard that the lights dimmed themselves.

Or maybe it was Barry come back to haunt me! lol He always said he would.

I am sitting here at my desk, in my red pajamas, contemplating whether or not I want to get showered in time to take my 3.5 year old to story time at the library. To be completely honest though, I don't want to go. I just want to sit and be home for awhile. We'll probably head out in a little while to return them anyway, just do a drive and dump. Don't want to accrue those fees you know!

We have been running ragged every since Barry died. Like I said in my last post, there really hasn't been that many days that we haven't gone out. And I don't really get to stay home today anyway, because we have grief support tonight. That I don't want to go to. I don't like that group at all, but the kids enjoy it, so I'll suck it up for them. Really though, it's all a bit too hippy for me, lighting the candles at the end, doing "break the ice" activities. It's lame, to put it lightly, and I feel out of place.

I've been feeling like I should blog about Barry, but I don't have the words today. Maybe I have a bit of a writer's block, but I can't think of anything to say about or for him. The insomnia is still affecting me, don't know why I can't get to bed on time. Last night, or should I say this morning, was 1:15AM. And I got up at 7:20. I do want to write about him, so I think I'll just share some memories...

• When Barry got a little alcohol in him, he laughed like a little school girl. Ok, he laughed like that all the time. My sister always said it was so odd how this big, burly man had a girly laugh.
• Barry's handwriting was impeccable. SO much so that I had trouble reading it sometimes. He rarely printed his letters, almost always writing in cursive.
• Barry had big lat muscles, so when he walked, he always carried his arms out to the side a bit, like a big hulk walking towards you
• He LOVED my homemade bread, we had it with almost every dinner meal when he was home
• He made the best spaghetti ever. Before he came home in October, i bought the ingredients for him to make his legendary sauce. I haven't been able to make it yet, and I am not quite sure when I will. Funny how spaghetti makes me want to cry. One time though, right after our youngest was born, he made it and it was so spicy. The older three kids were crying because they couldn't eat it. I think that was the day I came home from the hospital after my c-section. I can duplicate his recipe, but it never, never, tastes the same as his. He had a special touch.
• He had awful feet. They were wide, he had hairy toes, and very very flat feet. He was made for Rucking! He had told me before (Barry and I discussed death a lot, so that is how I was able to fulfill all his requests. It was a topic we spoke of often while we were married) that when he died he wanted someone to ID his body and be there when he was cremated. I asked my mom to do that for him, and she said she was honored to do so. While she wasn't able to stay for the entire cremation, as it is about a 7 hour process, she was there and helped push him into the chamber. Where was I? oh feet, lol. Ok, I said he had awful feet, and before Mom left, I told her how she could ID him...just by looking at his feet. And she said when she got there, she had no problem whatsoever IDing him by his feet (he was cremated in a cardboard box, he didn't want any pomp and circumstance for that, and they cut a corner off of it so you can look at the ankle/toe tag).
• Sometimes I wish I had been there to help push him in, but I think that would have been too hard for me. I said my goodbyes at the hospital shortly after he died.

I am still having trouble coming to terms with his death. I really thought I "knew", but I was wrong. The thing is, my mind knows that he has died, but my heart does not. This life that I have been forced into, it doesn't seem real. I wouldn't liken it to a dream like state, but it certainly does feel like that sometimes. I feel like I am just going through the motions, just like a robot actually. Yes, I laugh, I cry, I yell, and I get angry, but it still doesn't seem real.