Lack of sleep is wearing on me. Reality is mixed with random images. I can't seem to see up from down in my memories anymore. It scares me because all I have is memories. I run through things in my mind over and over. Playing them with alternate endings. I am tourturing myself for no good reason. I have mastered the art of bullshit. Okay, let's be honest I had already done that but now it is getting worse. I have people so fooled by the tone of my voice it really is a gift. I can cry without tears. On the rare occasion the tears flow while there are witnesses, I am a jungle animal on the hunt for the nearest exit away from humanity. I have taken to planning my escape from the moment I enter a room.

I am trying to put together a book for the boys that will hopefully have no end. It will include all the notes from the funeral home and obituary. All of the cards and notions we received. The hardest part thus far has been the most important part. I am trying to write down every detail of who their dad was. His favorite food, his favorite t.v. shows, his cologne, the way he sat on the couch. The stories that everyone has shared with us. I want them to have a place they can remember him or learn about him without an audience. Something they can add their own memories or look back in 30 years and say that is where I get this from. It is just so fucking hard. It grates at my soul.

All of the boys have been nothing short of amazing. Kids are such interesting creatures. Things just seem to roll off of them until the slightest breeze stirs up the dust in their mind. The questions are the hardest. I detest having to be honest with myself let alone my babies but they seem to see through my facade each time. Being kids they are more than pleased to call bullshit when needed. So I give them real answers, I dont try to sugar-coat and I don't try to make a joke out of things. If they are comfortable enough to ask then I will give them the respect their dad would have given and give them the truth.

#1 is having a hard time not putting himself into the "man" of the house roll. I refuse to let him become that kid. Courtney would have never stood for it. He is such a good kid. I just see how hurt he is and how he is afraid to show the emotion of it all. My priority is to let him continue on as the child he is. For anyone who feels he should step it up, keep that opinion to yourself unless you want a seriously mentally fragile woman beating the shit out of you.

#2 is angry. Oh he is so angry. He cries and cries and then tries to overcompensate his manhood by lashing out. I figured this would be his way but it hurts to see him in pain. Right now is make or break with him. He is so headstrong, like his dad. If he makes his mind set on being angry at the world I dont know how to help him. His head is run by his heart and his heart is to big for his years.

#3 is just now starting to realize how real this situation is. I think even though he knew his dad was gone he thought somehow, some way he would find his way back to us. He seems to be at a peace within himself. He says if he needs to talk to dad he knows where to find him. I am not sure what that really means but I have a feeling they have had a few talks already.

#4 is doing things by leaps and bounds. All the things his daddy couldnt wait to see. It hurts. He will never have one single picture of his dad doing things with him in his mind. He will only have what we give him and that just isnt good enough. He still wakes up everynight at or around 4. And each Monday since it happened he has woken at exactly 4:09 the time that I woke up that morning. He is letting me put him to bed with much less of a fight. He sees pictures and says dadada. He loves to look at his pictures and smile.

As for me, I try my damndest to ignore the fact that he is gone. I am filling my days with my kids and any meanial task I can find. I am not getting worse but I am not getting better. It physically hurts. I am so tired of being in the middle of doing something and turning around to tell him about it and he's not there. Or the kids do something and I pick up the phone to call him. He was so much a part of me. There were so many plans we had, I want to do them all as a way to be close to him, to remember him but I dont know if I am strong enough. I just want him here to tell me what to do next.

Today marks week 3. I have made it through 3 long, miserable, volitile weeks without him. Funny as these are the 3 weeks that I needed him more than ever. I am having a hard time moving on from that day. I mean each day drags on, each night takes an eternity but somehow in my head it seems like not a day has past since the 4th. I just can't figure it out. Life is moving on and time is passing but that day I am forever to live that day as it happened just moments ago.

Making my blog known has sent me into various states of panic. I go from freaking the hell out, to regretting sharing, wondering if I can still share my raw emotions, being typical me and saying fuck em all.

Today was a day of days. I am trying ot make peace with Courtney's parents in my mind. They are oblivious to how much they have hurt me in the last few weeks. I am trying so hard to hold my tounge but each time we have contact it gets harder.

His dad is a veteran. He has reached the age where he is able to obtain his retirement money. Well he reached that age several years ago but never got around to filing for them. So I took him down to get the ball rolling. Really it was no problem. I like Ed, he tells me stories about his time in service and seems to enjoy my company. He is not the most... personable person since he had his stroke so it is nice to spend time with him. So we finish everything and I am talking to Miriam to let her know all the happenings of the day. We get to talking about Ryan (the brother). He was hoping to be stationed in Germany so he would not have to take another tour in Afganistan. Nope he is going to Alaska, he will not get out of his obligation. Dont get me wrong, I full well understand why he doesnt want to go and why everyone is scared for him. I would be crushed for his family if the untinkable happens and I wish him all of the best even if it hurts to do so, considering. No matter what happens fighting for our country is your obligaion once you join the armed forces. It should not just be a paycheck. So anyhow, Miriam tells me "If it wasnt for Callen being born Ryan wouldnt have to go". WTF? There is some act of war that if you are the last male in the family to carry on the name then said soldier is exempt from combat (think saving private ryan) I understand she is a mother who just lost her son and now runs the risk of losing another but who in the fuck says that about their grandchild. I mean sure I probably took it more harsh and literal than she meant but come on. I lost my husband the father of the child you are questioning. How the hell do you think something like that let alone say it to me? I am so hurt right now. I just want to never speak to them again but I know its not what he would want. So once again I sit bent over a chair. BOHICA.

So yesterday (sunday) was the first football scrimmage for #2 and #3. It is always a long day but normally the time flies. Lots of gabbing with friends and Courtney and I just being dorks in general.

Lets start with 4 a.m. Sunady morning #2 woke me up (I couldnt fall asleep until 3), he says he didnt feel good. A question or two later I called bullshit and sent him to bed. Wake up at 6 a.m. tp get ready and on the road by 8 a.m. for an 11 a.m. game. #2 eats, showers and goof off. Typical morning. No complaints yet... I drop #2 and 3 off to the coach and find a place to park. I am herding #1 and 4 out of the cae and my phone rings. Sure enough #2 threw up, directly in front of the food vendor. Score I am off clean up duty since I was nowhere near the crime scene. I take #2 into the stands with me and he is great. My dad came a bit after us because I was a damn mess having to go to my first game without Courtney. A couple hours later #2 must eat, grandpa gets him chili fucking cheese fries. About an hour after that they re-emerge in the bleachers while we are surrounded. Perfect. I clean them up and clean him up and proceed to freak the fuck out. I am trying so hard to not let anyone see. So now I have the whispers that follow me all practice or game long about being the girl whose husband died but now I have the added bonus of being the girl whose kid puked all over.

I am done. I have tried so hard to fill his role and to fill my own. I cant do it anymore. I am not good enough. If this is to be my life then I dont think I can do it. I can no longer hold my head up. I feel so hollow, all I needed was for him to be there and smile and laugh. Even though I know he would have just pointed and then walked away it still would have been okay. All I needed was after the game for him to hug me and kiss me and say "I love you babe"

and finally

here is the thing that is getting on my nerves the most. If you were a good friend of ours or close family I really dont mind. Thing is if you arent one of the few select mentioned above WHY oh WHY do you need to know how he died? Does it help your grief, no. Does it make you change your lifestyle, no. Does it give you a good laugh to see me break down when I tell the story, maybe. Does it get you off just a little to hear the details of a persons death, yeah probably.

You want the details, you better be damn good and ready for me to give em. I am so fucking tired of sugar coating everything so noone has to go through what I did. I am tired of it. I give everyone the respect to give them the easiest version to them but you cant give me the respect of not making me relive that morning each time you ask. Even if I dont tell you the details, even when I give the simplest answer possible I still see that morning like a movie in my head over and over again.

Then when I give you the anwer you want more. Then you want to get upset and cry and ask even more questions. Fuck off and go watch some stupid cop drama to get your kicks.

I am so tired of re-living it so I have started to give those worthy fucked up answers. Like one of the dumb bitches from the previous post. She asked how it happened, so I told her we had just started banging and bam he was gone. Another girl asked (at the store and I still have no idea who she is) and I told her the same but added in that the seizure was a huge bonus.

I have yet to tell anyone the enitre story and I doubt I ever will. Again if you are a friend who I hold close to my heart and you each know who you are, I will tell you and it wont upset me. If you have a question just ask. It is just these people who seem to be using this as kicks that are going to get the ass end up answers.

So many things to do. I just don't want to do them. I have a million thank-you's to send out and I just can't seem to finish. Literally finding things like scrubbing a toilet to take precidense. I have so much to do legally it is warping my brain. I can't wrap my head around all of this right now. It is noon on Saturday and I have already broken down countless times. I have gone ot an internement for our dear friend who passed in April. I have called to cancel plans with Billy and Carrie. I just want to sit in my bed the rest of the day and cry. I want nothing more than to be alone. I want to feel sorry for myself and not have to worry about who it is upsetting.

Here is a question, why is it after he died all of the girls he has ever banged want to be my friend? I mean really what do you want to compare stories, share some naked pictures, what? Why would I possibly care if you are sad? He didnt give a shit enough to talk to any of you anymore why the fuck would I now that he is gone? Do you really think that he didnt tell me the bullshit you put him through, or the shit he put you through or the fact that you were just an easy lay? We talked about everything. If you are sad then mourn but do it with your friends leave me the fuck alone. I am never going to be your friend, I dont need to be your enemy just leave me alone.

Wednesday

this is going to be a week in review for the next few post. I am just so worn down. This is my only outlet but I just can't drag myself to the computer to let everything out.

My final appointment with Social Security was at 3:00. I had a friends little boy with me but really no biggie. I took the double stroller and the boys just chilled. That is until I get to the door and see the notice saying they had moved their damn office. So back in the car we go and race across town. Out of the car again and now they are a bit pissy. Extra kid fell asleep (gotta love him) and #4 was happy as a clam as long as I was steadily shoving food down his throat.

The worker and I go through everything for #4 to receive his monthly money. Done, he is cleared and ready to go. We begin to talk about me. After all the proof I have that Courtney was my sole means of income. Showing tax records, signed documents, joint accounts, lenth of relationship. That was it zip-zero nada. The worker must have said it 10 times that I don't count for anything since we never legally married or registered with the state. Oh but if I was gay then it wouldnt matter. I asked her if the fact that I was at that very moment taking it up the ass from her counted towards the gay credit. She was not ammused. So it boils down to the $1500 am month that I should be entitled to the state keeps and gives to the fuckers who abuse the system. Oh what a country we live in.

By the end of all that I was so done. I just can't hear one more mother loving person tell me i dont count as his wife. I am now nothing to him because we used our time together our way instead of rushing to get married. We spent time loving each other and being there for our kids so because we made the choice to get married later rather than sooner, I am fucked. The best part is I am nothing to him when it involves paying me but the second someone is looking for a bill to be paid they try to bully me into paying. It is after all my obligation to him. Well guess what fockers, until I am legally recognized f the hell off.

I was doing so well. I have managed to not cry infront of anyone since Saturday. I have managed to have a few talks with Courtney and not break down.

Today #4 decided to climb onto the couch all on his own. His first time. We have waited so long for this little stunt man to climb. Courtney couldn't wait. My first thought was to grab the phone and call him. Then I lost it. This was the first thing that #4 has done without his daddy there to witness. This is a milestone that I couldnt share. I just dont know what to do. It was like a knife in my heart.

If I cant make it through something as small as climbing a couch what am I going to do when it really matters. Who is going to teach them all he would have? Soon enough #2 and #3 are going to need to start shaving, that was his job. Who is going to teach #4 to tie his shoes? I swear to you my kids were all 3 wearing velcro until he came home. It took him 1 day to teach them.

2 steps forward 10 steps back. Problem is there is a cliff right behind me and I am so close to falling.