It is three weeks today, since I held my wife in my arms as she took her last breath. The cremation is done and the urn is on my mantle. The memorial service has come and gone. The flowers were dying so they went out today with the rest of the garbage. I went back to work. I’m trying hard to function.

It’s not working.

People make fatuous statements about how each day will get a little bit easier.

They’re wrong.

The pain is not any better today than it was three weeks ago. If anything, it’s worse. Each day is another day of trying and failing to pretend I’m okay. Each night is another night of trying and failing to sleep. Wine doesn’t help. Neither does bourbon. Or valium. I’ve tried.

I've tried making the same sort of snarky posts I always did in the past, both here and on Facebook. But my heart isn't in it.

I always viewed myself as a tough old son of a bitch. Not anymore. I weep like a baby at the drop of a hat. Songs, TV shows, lines in books and magazines, even watching the snowfall today, fill me with an irrevocable sense of loss. These were all things I formerly shared with the most important person in my life. I can’t anymore. I never will again.

I apologize once again for this sappy drivel. I’m ashamed to be writing it. The simple act of visualizing my feelings as I type them into a word doc somehow eases the constant ache in my heart. So I guess I’m doing it for me. Please don’t feel compelled to reply. I’m not looking for pity. I’m trying to convince myself there is a reason to keep going. I try to focus on my kids, my granddaughter, and how much they need me. While I believe that’s true, on an emotional level I just want to be with Laurel again.

The last line from Janis Ian’s Tea and Sympathy keeps playing in an endless loop in my head.

“Now I lay me down to sleep,
Forever by your side.”

P.S I promise to try to never do this again.