Hate
Hate is a really strong word, and I use it very seldom. I don't even let my kids say it because it carries such a strong sentiment.
Today I was filled with hate.
I hate this. I hate that I am a widow. I hate that this girl chose to spend her day drinking and doing drugs and then got behind the wheel of a car. I hate that she gets to live and Bill had to die. I hate that my husband is now a pile of ashes occupying a box sitting on a shelf in my living room. I hate that I am raising my kids alone. I hate that I have to live without him. I hate that I had to go to the bike shop today and get Blake's new cyclocross bike and other random supplies I know nothing about. I hate that I have to depend on Bill's friends to help me with all this bike stuff. I hate that I have to depend on other people right now. I hate that they all have their own families, all complete with TWO partners. I hate that I see old couples walking down the street holding hands and I will never have that with Bill. I hate that life and death are so random and none of us are really in control of anything here. I hate that I may not ever feel as wonderful as Bill made me feel ever again. I hate that grief has now invaded this space where I carry all of my love for my husband. I hate that I have all of these memories of how life used to be and they all make me sad. I hate that there is a beautiful treehouse in our backyard for our kids to play in, and Bill had no part in building it. I hate that every weekday at 5:30, I don't hear the door open while the kids squeal with delight. I hate that every time I hear the familiar "click, click, click" of a bicycle, my heart stops for half a second before I remember that it isn't him. I hate that his beautiful life that he loved so much, got ripped away from him without warning or hesitation. I hate that I feel like this and I cannot manage to get away from it, no matter what I do. I hate that I don't feel safe anymore. I hate that every time I see a cyclist I get upset. I hate when I see another man buying flowers for his wife. I hate the way I feel when I see people's wedding photos. I hate when people try to make it better by saying "the alternative could be that he is paralyzed with no quality of life."
He's dead. The only alternative I'm willing to entertain is that she didn't get her drunken and drugged self behind the wheel of the car that day.
Today I was filled with hate.
I hate this. I hate that I am a widow. I hate that this girl chose to spend her day drinking and doing drugs and then got behind the wheel of a car. I hate that she gets to live and Bill had to die. I hate that my husband is now a pile of ashes occupying a box sitting on a shelf in my living room. I hate that I am raising my kids alone. I hate that I have to live without him. I hate that I had to go to the bike shop today and get Blake's new cyclocross bike and other random supplies I know nothing about. I hate that I have to depend on Bill's friends to help me with all this bike stuff. I hate that I have to depend on other people right now. I hate that they all have their own families, all complete with TWO partners. I hate that I see old couples walking down the street holding hands and I will never have that with Bill. I hate that life and death are so random and none of us are really in control of anything here. I hate that I may not ever feel as wonderful as Bill made me feel ever again. I hate that grief has now invaded this space where I carry all of my love for my husband. I hate that I have all of these memories of how life used to be and they all make me sad. I hate that there is a beautiful treehouse in our backyard for our kids to play in, and Bill had no part in building it. I hate that every weekday at 5:30, I don't hear the door open while the kids squeal with delight. I hate that every time I hear the familiar "click, click, click" of a bicycle, my heart stops for half a second before I remember that it isn't him. I hate that his beautiful life that he loved so much, got ripped away from him without warning or hesitation. I hate that I feel like this and I cannot manage to get away from it, no matter what I do. I hate that I don't feel safe anymore. I hate that every time I see a cyclist I get upset. I hate when I see another man buying flowers for his wife. I hate the way I feel when I see people's wedding photos. I hate when people try to make it better by saying "the alternative could be that he is paralyzed with no quality of life."
He's dead. The only alternative I'm willing to entertain is that she didn't get her drunken and drugged self behind the wheel of the car that day.
Love you Bri and the fact that you are willing to let his all out. I only wish we were sitting together when you did so I could have given you the big hug you needed. Your truth and willingness to speak it is helping more than you ever know.
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