And Now She is Gone

Losing my wife has plagued me throughout the past year; Sadness, anger, confusion and fear have clouded my every move. Every decision feels bigger and more intimidating. I question everything I do. If that wasn’t enough, each of these emotions affects the part of my psyche that I’ve struggled with my entire life.

Self-confidence.

Before I met Katy, I was a mess. With no self-esteem and no direction, I bounced from job to job, torching bridges along the way. When Katy came along, she accepted me for who I was, neurotic quirks and all. The more at ease I was with her, the more self-assured I became. It didn’t matter whether her boosting my confidence was intentional or not. It worked.

During therapy, they asked me to share the last time I felt confident. I sat pondering and realized it was when I found out she had cancer. My wife needed me. I had no choice but to be confident. So for the next four years, I shoved all the shit that would get in my way deep into a closet and pushed forward. This was not just something I was trying to fake on the surface. I felt that I was ready for this. And when I look back on that time, I am proud of what I was able to do for her.

That was it — That was the last time I was 100% sure I could handle something.

I have not felt comfortable in this world since she left. And a big part of that is because, at this time, I do not believe I can do this without her. I spent nearly 20 years of my life in a very comfortable and secure relationship. Katy always knew what to say and when to pick me up.

After completing a huge presentation for work, she gives me a hug and says, “I knew you would crush it!”

Before I leave the house to audition for a play, she says, “No worries, you’re awesome!”

She even took the time to learn and understand the Spiderman lore so she could throw in a “go get em tiger” now and then.

All the sudden my cheering section was gone.

So how do I replace what I lost when Katy died? Is that even possible?

Maybe not. However, when I look at my current situation, I see my dad. He lives with me. He and my mother moved in so Katy and I could help take care of Mom, who had dementia. And then Cancer. Having Dad here has been nice, especially in those dark days just after she died. So, I need to continue to ensure Dad is okay and has a roof over his head.

Okay, I can do this…?

And what about Gandalph and Mirren? I essentially have free in-home pet therapy. Katy loved them and fought hard to adopt them when I said the timing was’nt right. During her chemo days, they would both cuddle close to her as she slept on the couch. When she moved to the hospital bed, neither of them would go into the room. I don’t know why; maybe something about the bed freaked them out. Mirren would often sit in the hallway just outside the room and meow, and Katy would talk back, trying to assure her she could enter. Mirren still does that sometimes. Gandalph would always show up when I was crying myself to sleep, a slight nudge on my back to ensure me I am not alone. He misses her as well.

So let’s make sure we can take care of them. Food, Vet, shelter, all the important stuff that keeps Sarah McLachlan from pestering me for $18 every month.

Deep breath..you got this.

My therapist would say that the most important thing to remember in this is to be kind to myself. During my decision-making process and after. Bullying myself into believing i’m a fuck-up will not help. I am human, I will make mistakes. If I am careful when approaching the decision, and ask for help if I need it (that one eludes me), it will be fine.

I am not alone in this.

Katy did not give me confidence. She saw it in me and helped me to see. She created a connection for me, whether intentional or not; it worked.

It’s up to me to reestablish the connection.