Six months after my husband’s funeral, I was driving to my first anger management session since surviving my car accident. Truth be told, this was the first day that I left my apartment since I moved into it six months ago.
I couldn’t live in the place I shared with my late husband. The memories alone would kill me.
It hasn’t even been fully furnished. I had a King sized bed I never slept in. The plastic was still on the mattress. I had a living room sofa, an entertainment shelf that I never put together.
A bunch of appliances in boxes. If I was hungry I ordered take out, eating fast food like it was going out of style.
I cried, cried, sobbed and cried over my husband. Each day without him seemed to be harder than the previous.
I had a huge insurance check in my safe. Jonathan had taken out life insurance behind my back.
All the money I paid for his funeral was reimbursed in full along with a check for seventy five thousand dollars. When Jonathan’s lawyer brought it by my new apartment a few months after I moved in, I was in a daze. I never knew he had a lawyer let alone life insurance.
He loved me enough to think of my livelihood in the event he perished.
I stared at the check, undeserving of it. I thought I could learn to love him. But I know now, through tragedy, that it’s not good to lead someone on.
It’s not wise to be with someone if your heart wasn’t in it. It was terrible to take someone’s hand in marriage when you weren’t in love or ready for a committed relationship. It wasn’t good to date someone, when you weren’t over your dead first love and rebounding from a married friend with orgasmic benefits.
I sulked over the insurance check. I started chain smoking. Drinking myself to sleep, waking up in vomit. Crying and jerking off in the shower with me and Jonathan’s home movies playing on my flat screen, pounding me, loving me, making me cum.
After months of self-induced torture, I made a decision to get myself together before I caused myself serious health issues.
I drove to a random church.
The feel of the sun on my skin for the first time in six months felt unusual, but I missed it. Sitting in the back by the Exit doors, some white pastor gave a great sermon.
I closed my eyes behind my thick shades, remembering the mustard seed of faith. Where was God when Bob killed my husband?
But I quickly retracted my thoughts. If God sacrificed his Son for our lives to continue, who was I to question him about a man that was my spouse, not my son?
I mean it wasn’t God or Christ that killed my husband. It was Bob Grimes. He was the culprit.
The Devil was real and busy, that I did know and I didn’t feel like letting my sadness control me any longer.
After church I drove around town, hiding behind my tinted windows. I stopped by the liquor store, but drove off when I remembered that I never had a DUI and didn’t want Bob’s kind of problems…I drove by my old high school, thinking of Lou for a minute then I decided to drive to a place I hadn’t been for six months.
My husband’s grave…
I fought back emotion when I lay eyes on my baby’s final resting place. Thinking to myself, I remembered me and Lynn falling inside it. I never heard about what happened to her after she said she couldn’t feel her legs. She couldn’t feel her skull either when I knocked her out with the butt of her own gun, the same gun she tried to eradicate me wit, as if I felt like being vindicated from a life without Jonathan and maybe I was ready to leave this selfish earth where people think you’re supposed to do what they say or suggest.
I rubbed my face, the breeze picking up. It was unnaturally windy today. Clad in my dingy suit, I sat on the ground before the cold slab of stone.
I refused to read when he was born and when he died.
“Baby, I am in love with you,” I found myself saying, opening up in ways that I wish I had when he was living, healthy and breathing his undying love for me. Every time he saw me his face lit up.
The way he cooked for me made me feel special.
I remember he once said that he was going to be my everything…so I wouldn’t have time to want another man.
It killed me inside that I still wanted Lou, my first love, the man that died by my father’s gun at my high school football game.
And the fact that he snitched on Lynn Waters, in cahoots with Judge Harper Hills. Hills was a conniving snake. I bet he used his money and resources to lure his daughters away from Lynn, Officer Becky, to make her suffer for having kids behind his back and hiding them from him.
She’s been playing God for a long time.
Now it has all caught up to her.
“I will love you for the rest of my life, baby. I promise I will try to move on and live a better life than I led with you. My heart wasn’t in it, baby and I didn’t know how to tell you. But now I know that you knew that I wasn’t in love with you and you still married me with hopes that I would learn to love you. I did learn, baby. Through trauma and tragedy and devastating loss, I finally learned.”
Standing up, I looked over his grave one final time. I was going to carry him in my heart.
I turned to leave and quickly paused.
Looking over my shoulder my mouth fell open when I saw a bottle of his favorite liquor, Hennessy White and a dozen white roses on his grave, carefully wrapped with gold bow.
Jonathan’s favorite color was white and gold.
Taking the bottle, I held it close to my heart, taking it home with me…
Whoever left it on the grave with the pricey flowers, I was very thankful.
Maybe one day I’d find out who did such a nice, kind thing for my husband…