Black gives way to blue

I don't want to feel no more
It's easier to keep falling
Imitations are pale
Emptiness.... all

tomorrow's
Haunted by your ghost

Lay down, black gives way to blue
Lay down, I'll remember you

Fading out by design
Consciously avoiding changes
Curtain's drawn now it's done
Silencing all

tomorrow's
Forcing a goodbye

Lay down, black gives way to blue
Lay down, I'll remember you

Jerry Cantrell

I'm horribly broken today.
Crying uncontrollably as I type this.
But she's gone. She's really gone.
Every tear soaked night before this has been with some sort of vain hope she would come back.
That she would miss me.


That one hurt.


I just miss her so much.
So very much.
But she's gone from me.
Gone.
Really gone.

I've been listening to this song on repeat for twenty minutes now. Sitting in a chair in front of the speaker in the corner of a house that's way too big for me. With her, it seemed too small. She filled the place with smiles and laughter and happiness. Now it's just a house. An empty house I almost can't stand to live in without her. I looked across the living room towards the back door wanting more than anything else in life for her to walk in it and across the room to me.

I may never see her again.
Ever.
Oh, this hurts so bad.

I've spent almost a week doing work she would have done in a day. I'm planning a party that shouldn't be happening without her. It just shouldn't. I really wanted to pull this thing off as some sort of way for all of us to move on. Dammit, I don't want to move on. I want her here. I want her here. I want her here.
I'm not sure I can do this.

Why did she have to leave?
Why couldn't she still want me?
Why didn't she walk through that door when I looked for her?
Why can't she give me a chance to make her happy?
Why can't I hear her voice calling my name again?

I've tried, really tried to put on a good face these past few weeks. At work, with friends, at home. I've only cried in front of someone once and even then I stopped before I lost control. I don't want to pretend anymore. I just want her back. I don't care who knows I'm not okay. I'm not okay with any of this. This is not what I want. What I want is her. That's all. Nothing else.

I can't do this.
I just can't do this.
I can't handle this pain.
My world is done.
This hurts so much.

It's that time of year

As always, February in the log house on the windy hill brings the annual Jamaican Party. In the past thirteen years, the core of the party was the authentic Jamaican food Ell would create over almost a week of preparation. Without her here I knew I wouldn't be able to pull off the same amazing creations she did. In addition to that, I wrestled with the fact that having the party that had always been our gift to our friends might insinuate some kind of, "taking sides" which I didn't want to happen. But at the advice of a friend who encouraged me that having the party would allow people the opportunity to support, "me" and wouldn't do any harm to relationships they might have with Ell, I decided to go forward with the party. In addition, he suggested that support could easily be in the form of food. And so I sent out invitations and a menu and a bunch of people signed up for food they would make. Sure, it won't be the same party, but it will still be fun. And I'm really excited to see what others making the food will add to the fun.

One tradition that remains in place is that the Red Stripe will be flowing with immensity. Today I picked up the special-ordered car load of beer and adding to it the additional bottles of alcohol that had dwindled in the alcohol cabinet. Ahhhhh, I do love this time of year when little squat bottles of beer make the heart happy.

If you didn't get an invite, I either didn't have your address or didn't think you'd come. You decide which one is you, and then get dressed up in your best Jamaican clothes and be at my house Saturday night.

Words for tomorrow

I know it can be easy to overstay my welcome in regards to posts about my life without Ell. Knowing that line may be close for some of Eleven's readers, I still risk crossing it by sharing one more post. Here are some, "words" I've received from people as intentions of encouragement. It's amazing how cliche some of them are while still being exactly what I needed when I received them.

--All things old shall be made new.

--Isaiah 43:18-19

18. Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.

19. See I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.

--Keep looking forward - new adventures lie ahead.

--Shape the future by dealing with the present.

At the Bank

Like usual, this, At the Bank post carries a bit of humor. But it also shows a glaring example of how public my job is and how invasive it can be to my private life.

Situation... guy comes into my office to renew a CD. He's a bit of an odd-bird lacking some basic social skills; close talker, akward body language, too-careful talking about his not-careful-enough mental processes... an overall creepy guy. I welcome him into my office and offer him a seat across from me. Instead of sitting down he leans across my desk and stares at my business card for a full ten seconds; a really long silence as I sit and stare at him. Here is the conversation that followed:

Him: "Is that you?"
Me: "The name on my business card?"
Him: silent stare
Me: "Yes. That's me."
Him: "Were you in the newspaper yesterday?"
Me (at a loss): "I'm not sure. Did you see me in the newspaper?"
Him: "Are you the same Sam xxxxxx who just had his divorce or dissolution finalized?"
Me (almost speechless at why this guy remembers stuff like that and starting to wonder if he's some creepy stalker): "Well, yes; you saw that in the paper?"
Him: "Yes."
Me: "Then yes, I guess I was in the paper yesterday."
Him: "That's what I thought," and without even taking a breath, "so what are your CD rates?"

Strange conversation, to say the least. What a weirdo.