29 Days Later

Yesterday was 4 weeks.  28 days.  The 28 most miserable days of my life.

Today marked 29 days.  29 days of asking why.  29 days of her not being here.  A friend - he's actually so much more to me than merely a friend - took me out to lunch last week.  Afterward, we came back to the house and talked for awhile.  He told me he knew Carmen was with us.  He said he could feel her in the room, in the house.  I couldn't, still can't.  I think I can't feel anything but the raw pain.  It feels like the sun has set in my chest, burning and painful, yet at the same time, it's like there's no sun at all.  Just cold, dark emptiness. 

I called the medical examiner's office again today.  Still no word.  Still no answer to why, at least the physical why.  The lady that answers is always so nice but always tells me the same thing.  The report is still pending.  Pending toxicology testing.  Pending, pending, pending...like my life.  Pending.  I don't know if knowing the physical cause of the end of my world will help me accept it any more than not knowing has allowed that to happen.  I like to think that it will.  Not that I'm willing to accept it as of yet.  Even though I don't have a choice, I still can't accept it as reality.

I still wonder around in a haze.  I'm prone to breaking down at any given moment.  I stopped at the post office to pay the yearly fee.  The box is under her name.  Has been for years.  She happened to be the one that opened that account.  When the lady asked the name it was under, I told her our last name.  Then there it was.  My wife's name popped up on the screen in front of me.  I lost my composure and began to cry.  The lady at the post office was very kind.  Told me to go ahead and cry.  That she had lost her son last year and still cried.

Yesterday I talked to a lady who's husband died almost 3 years ago.  She said she almost feels normal again.  Not the same normal as before.  A different normal.  Another close friend - again, really more than a friend - tells me almost daily that this is my "new normal".  I want my old normal back.  This new one sucks.