Feeling Some Kind of Way
Melancholia stops by for a visit
I dreamed about my husband who died in October again. I dream about him a lot. We have these long conversations that I wish I remembered. I wake up feeling at peace, so the conversations must be going well.
We had been apart many years when he died due to his alcoholism. I didn't want to leave him, but I was in fear for my life. Nice guy, nasty drunk. Unfortunately, by the late 80s, he was more drunk than sober, and by the 90s he was completely out of control. Almost everyone around him was enabling him, including my parents. I was the weirdo for not drinking. The more he drank, the less I drank, until I didn't drink at all. Still don’t.
The kids and I lost everything, including our home of 14 years. We went from having a nice suburban life to poverty. It was hellish, and it took a long time before I could forgive him. Guy was fucking messed up, and I’d done everything I could. Honestly, guys. I really had.
I find I’m reassuring myself constantly that I did all I could. Even then, I knew if I’d left before I’d tried everything the guilt would kill me when he died. Sad thing is, I feel guilty anyway. Good wives’ husbands don't die of cirrhosis and alcoholic dementia … maybe if I had been a better wife … I wasn't sunshine and roses myself.
