Monday, September 18, 2017

Me too

Someone just called and asked for Carmen. I told them she passed away five years ago. Then the floodgates opened. She listened to me struggle to talk and told me she was sorry. Me too. 
So very much of my life has changed. I was blessed to find love again. I'm eternally grateful for Heather and her love and kindness. The pain is no longer constant. I have more good days than bad by far. I've been able to talk about Carmen and her death without breaking down then a phone call from a complete stranger turns me into a slobbering mess. They say that you never "get over" it that you just "carry on" somehow. They're right. I've been blessed that I've not had to carry on by myself for most of the last five plus years. 

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


I keep thinking that I'm ok, that I'm going to carry on. Not like I have a choice. Nothing can bring her back. Coming home to an empty house shatters that illusion. There's no laughter, no singing, just the dog padding down the hall in what often seems a bothered gait, to meet me. Sometimes even she can't be bothered, too lost in a dream to notice I've arrived home. Two days I a row now, I've gone from ok to crap in a matter of moments, just by pulling into the driveway.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Not today

Someday I know I'm going to have a day, then a week, then a month, then a year when I don't just want to give up. Today is not that day.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Supersize Me

I opened the cabinet with the though of cooking dinner.  That was as far as I got.  How is it that opening a cabinet in my kitchen...our kitchen...really Mark, let's not lie to ourselves...her kitchen, can cause the walls I build around my heart to dissolve like salt in the sea?  It's just food.  What I was looking for was a can of tomato sauce that Mom had brought over a few weeks ago.  What I found was memories of a time that I can't have again.  I will never again be able to feebly attempt to help her cook something.  She'll never again cook anything in that kitchen while I sit watching her, amazed at the ease with which she does everything.  McDonald's is a LOT less painful. 

Sunday, July 1, 2012


I keep waiting for this to get easier.  For there to be days, a day even, where I don't miss her with every breath.  Waiting for songs to remind me of good things, good times, instead of the fact that I can't hold her, hear her, see her, watch her, be with her. 
I recently took a trip with the youth from church to Nauvoo, IL to visit church historical sites.  I could feel the Spirit there.  Could feel of the sacredness of the Gospel.  I also felt pain and dispair.  Having completed an endowment session in the Nauvoo Temple, I was sitting in the final room where I normally would have feelings of peace and contentment.  Normally I would be sitting next to my wife.  That day all I could feel was how life wasn't supposed to be like this.  I wasn't supposed to be sitting there next to my dear friend Bill, I was supposed to be sitting there next to Carmen, basking in the glow of the Savior's love, feeling the comfort of the Spirit.  Instead I sobbed and sobbed with my heartbreak not diminishing but growing.  Bill, in his kindness, held me while I sobbed on his shoulder. 
My therapist said to expect at least a year of pain like this.  I don't know that I can take that.

Sunday, June 10, 2012


Tears come at the most random times these days.  I had a busy day today.  DJ'd a pool party in N Houston then made a mad dash back home to change and then DJ'd a Sweet 16 party.  I played Andy Griggs' "You Won't Ever Be Lonely" at the party tonight.  All I could think about while I was listening to it was that it simply wasn't true.  I didn't cry until I got home.  Something about pulling up to the house knowing that she's not inside waiting for me.  I can't count the nights that I would come home from a party and find her asleep on the couch, or propped up in the bed, waiting on me to get home.  I would wake her up and she'd smile and apologize for falling asleep before I got in.  I miss seeing her sleepy smile.  I miss everything about her.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

I've been leaving myself voice notes of things I want to put on this blog.  My problem seems to be the transcribing part.  I babble into my phone for a little bit, and there they stay.  Thus and so, I'm typing this now instead of talking to my phone. 
It's been a bad evening.  I sat out on my back porch this evening and cried for about 10 minutes.  Not watery eyes, but deep sobs.  I'm sure my lack of sleep - DJ'd Project Grad last night, then a pool party this afternoon - lack of eating, and forgetting to take my meds yesterday and today all contributed to that.  I know the biggest factor is that I miss her.  Every moment of every day.  I feel so alone without her here with me.