Monthly Archives: April 2014

Stuck

I’m making progress dealing with my grief.

I’m learning that I am strong enough to do the stuff I need to take care of myself, and the animals, and the house.

I discovered I can cut the grass all by myself. I discovered I can re-string a weed eater. I dealt with a rather significant health crisis with Fluff the cat (but more on that later!) without totally falling apart.

I’m coping with the stress and demands of my job and teaching the doctors new electronic health system on top of all the other stuff I have to do all day. I’m doing what needs to be done for the estate and the lawyer handling the personal injury case.

But as proud of the progress that I’m making . . . I feel like I’m stuck in purgatory or limbo or in some horrible bureaucratic red tape hell. It’s been over three months since Prince Charming died . . . and I still don’t have a final death certificate . . . supposedly the coroner in the county where the accident happened is waiting on some sort of paperwork from the Ohio Highway Patrol . . . which has supposedly already been done months ago. So now I wait until this person talks to that person who talks to someone else to get the information on what is really needed . . .

I do have a preliminary death certificate . . . that lists the cause of death as “pending” but that certificate won’t be accepted by the life insurance company or by the Bureau of Workers Comp. And without a final death certificate, the personal injury lawyer can’t effectively negotiate with the lawyers representing the owner of the truck or the driver of the truck.

~sigh~

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Filed under grief, PostADay, Prince Charming

There’s A Reason They’re Called Ex-Husbands

I figure as long as I’m getting stuff off my chest, I ought to get something off my chest about the XH . . .

Our divorce was civil . . . mainly because I chose for it to be so. Once the divorce papers were signed, I rarely heard from him . . . usually when he needed or wanted something from me . . . and me being the silly goose that I am, would do be nice because I thought that “down the road” he would do the same for me.

It was never anything serious or important . . . usually dropping off mail that got delivered to me by mistake. Forwarding phone messages for him that came in on the house phone. Notarizing something or the other for him or a friend of his. I wouldn’t drop everything and run the minute he asked but I would find a convenient time to complete the task. Again, thinking that someday the favor would be returned to me.

Fast forward three years . . . to the day Prince Charming died . . . I had gone to the little town where Prince Charming and I grew up to tell the families the bad news. At one point, I realized that I needed/wanted to get home . . . to feed the doggies and to get away from everyone and try to make some sense of what had happened. My mom (bless her heart) didn’t want me to leave and said that maybe XH would go let the dogs out and feed them supper (both dogs were “his” dogs but I got them in the divorce – long story for another day!). In my heart, I hoped that he would agree to do this favor for me but, in my head, I knew that he probably wouldn’t. After all it was Monday night and he was at the bowling alley and, well, nothing interrupts bowling night!

I was right . . . XH couldn’t/wouldn’t/didn’t want to go let the dogs out. He was at the bowling alley. And he didn’t have a key to the house anymore. It was almost as painful to watch my mother’s heart break when he told her “no” as it was to tell her about Prince Charming’s accident.

A couple of weeks later, I had an opportunity to talk to XH . . . he needed me to notarize something (and yes, I agreed to do it only to ask him about the house key) and I told him he DID still have a key to my house because I still had a key to HIS house (which his current wife was totally surprised to learn). When he discovered that, in fact, he DID still have a key to The Little House . . . the look on his face was priceless . . . and the look on mine was complete and utter disgust . . .

What I wanted to say . . . but didn’t . . . and probably never will is this . . . I stood by your for 28 years. I dealt with a vindictive ex-wife and two step-children who saw us as their personal ATM. I tried to tell you that following your “dream” of “retiring” to build your own small business would bankrupt us (it did). I worked two jobs, took care of our house, and helped take care of MIL and her house to help make that dream come true. I helped you take care of both your parents when they were sick. I gave up more vacation, sick, personal time that I can ever count to take MIL to various doctors appointments; sit in hospital waiting rooms for tests, procedures, and surgeries over the 13 years she was sick and most of the time was there ALONE and most of the time they thought I was the daughter not the daughter-in-law. I stood by your side while you buried both your parents. Hell, I was the one that had to tell him his mother had passed away . . . and he couldn’t be bothered to do one little favor for me on the absolute worst day of my life.

There’s a song titled “Someone That I Used To Know” and that’s exactly how I felt that day . . .

He’s never mentioned Prince Charming’s death. He’s never texted or checked on me to see how I’m doing. Except for the one time he needed me to notarize something and one time he had a question about our past bankruptcy, I haven’t heard a peep out of him. He’s one of those people who is going to disappear out of my life until he things everything is “back to normal” . . .

What he doesn’t realize is that nothing will ever be “back to normal” . . . especially the person he thought he used to know . . . and this new person has no desire to ever know anything about him . . .

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Filed under divorce, ex-hubby, PostADay, Prince Charming

They Mean Well

I’ve debated a while about whether or not to write this post. But I have to get it out of my system . . . so here goes.

I understand that nobody has any idea what to say to me these days. I understand that my story is heartbreaking and tragic and there aren’t many people who understand what I’m going through . . . I tell everyone that my life these days resembles a very bad Lifetime Made For TV movie . . . and most everyone understands that analogy.

I know they mean well . . . but sometimes people try to be kind and their kindness only makes my pain worse . . .

For example . . .

The first day back to work after Prince Charming’s funeral, one of my co-workers said to me “You’re young and beautiful. You’ll find someone new.” I was dumbfounded and just stared at her as she got onto the elevator. It wasn’t until another co-worker stopped me in the hall and asked me what was wrong that I could even begin to process what I had just heard. To this day I have absolutely no response to that comment. It just struck me as the most hurtful and thoughtless thing I’d ever heard.

Little did I know that I’d hear more . . .

After I had been back to work for about a week, I had “one of those days” when I couldn’t get out of bed and I didn’t want to face everyone at work. I called in sick. When I went back to work the next day, a different co-worker asked me “are you okay?” with a very concerned look on her face. I looked at her and said “No, I’m not okay. I’m never going to be okay. There is never going to be a time in my life when anything is ever ‘okay’ ever again.” She looked at me like I had two heads. I went on to explain that two troopers ripped my heart out of my chest and handed it to me and you expect me to be “okay” with that? I had to leave the room before I became totally “uncivilized”.

A couple of weeks later, this same co-worker, when she overheard a conversation I had with a friend about Prince Charming’s estate, told me that I could “get paid for the work I’ll have to do” setting the estate. I looked at her and told her it’s not about the money, it’s about honoring him and making sure that his last wishes are fulfilled and any money I took from the estate would be less that would go to his children. She told me that I needed to really needed to reconsider that and talk to the probate lawyer before I made a decision. I just stared at her and walked away.

My dear brother was trying to be kind and said the infamous “he’s in a better place” line to me. My dear brother was very close to Prince Charming and is having a hard time dealing with Prince Charming’s death. Because he’s my dear brother and he’s hurting like me, I was kind when I told him that I could buy the “he’s in a better place” line if Prince Charming had been sick with cancer, or had a heart attack, or if he had survived the accident but had suffered with horrible injuries . . . but the “here one minute, gone the next” thing did not fall in that category. I asked my dear brother “What is wrong with here? Why couldn’t he stay here? When he was here we were happy and we had everything . . . and now he’s gone and I’m miserable and everybody is sad and life is not happy!”

And the final insensitive thing that has been repeated almost ad nauseum for the last couple of weeks “he’s here with you in spirit” . . . Prince Charming’s youngest grandson was born on March 20 . . . this is Charming Son’s son . . . and when I tell everyone how sad I am that Prince Charming’s Namesake Grandson won’t get to meet Prince Charming, I instantly hear “he’s here with you in spirit.” Again, I’m calling nonsense on that. Prince Charming should be here in person with Charming Son to meet Namesake Grandson. Namesake Grandson should have the privilege of meeting the man he’s named after and see for himself the uncanny resemblance between them.

I know I should be kind and polite to these people because the have no idea what they are saying or how badly they are hurting me . . . but why should I allow them to add to the hurt that I live with every day because they are trying to be kind?

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I Forgot

For a brief moment on Monday afternoon, I forgot that Prince Charming was gone.

It was a busy Monday – which I’m typically thankful for because since Prince Charming’s accident, I really intensely dislike Monday. Hate is such a strong word that I don’t really like to use it in this case especially since it’s not Monday’s fault for how I feel.

I had six things on my mind at once – again a blessing in disguise most of the time – and all of a sudden I had the thought “I wonder if he’d like to go to Steak & Shake for date night?”

For a split second my heart was happy . . . and I reached for my phone to send him a text . . . and then I remembered. He won’t answer that text. His number has been disconnected. He’s gone . . . and this time for good.

And it was like it had just happened all over again.

And so began one of the hardest weeks I’ve had in a while. I forgot he was gone . . . and this week is the 3rd anniversary of him moving back to Ohio . . . and I’ve spent the day today doing estate stuff . . .

I’ve been told there would be days like this . . . I guess I didn’t really believe it . . . I sure do now.

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