Sunday, November 16, 2008

So yeah, I'm grieving.

Because, like I said in the description for this blog, my husband Gary threw himself off a roof on Election Day.  

All the rest of the country is going nuts with excitement because of Obama, and I've got two cops at my door telling me my husband took a nose dive onto the street, missing a falafel cart by only two feet.  Splat.  Bam.  Gone.  Which is the kind of thing that leaves you shaking.  And all hollowed out.  And feeling as if someone could just casually crush you like a blown up paper bag.

We had the funeral on the Thursday, because he is...I mean was...Jewish, which means it has to be fast.  And anyone who's ever buried someone they loved, well you know all about what that feels like so I don't need to say.  It wasn't as hard as when my first husband, Robbie, opened his veins in that hotel room in Amsterdam, but I mean, come on; I was so young then, Robbie was so young, no one ever thought of dying, even though people thought our music was dark and read all sorts of things into the lyrics after it happened.  But that was an accident.  I mean yes he did do it, but he was so out of his head with whatever it was he'd got off that guy at Club B__________ that I know he never thought it was really going to kill him.  I still get sad thinking of Robbie, and I still miss him, you know, even though its been more than 25 years.  Which is pretty depressing itself.

But I'm getting off the subject.  Jeff says I have a habit of doing that.  But he's also the one who suggested that a blog would be a good outlet for me right now, and he helped me set it up and everything.  So if you're reading this, Jeff, thank you.  XOXO.

I hope no one thinks because I just wrote XOXO that I'm flirting around not even a week after I became a widow.  Jeff is probably my oldest friend in the world.  We were in college together, before the band started getting hot and I had to drop out.  And he always stayed in touch.  Jeff's a geek -- it's okay, he won't mind me saying that.  He likes being a geek. Though he says he wishes he were as big a geek as Gates.  And I have to agree.  Jeff's maybe the poorest geek I ever heard of.  I mean, not that he's hurting, even with things the way they are right now.  Not that anybody knows really how anyone is right now.

ARGH!  I was trying to avoid this part.  I know, everyone already knows, about  the economy tanking and the market going  sploosh and all the other Recession/Depression bad bad news.  But now I get to the part I really can't think about, the part about how things are with me.  Because Monday, I thought that even with all that's going on, that Gary and I were okay.  Even with all the extra long days Gary's been putting in this year with his wheeling and dealing (I admit it; I never really "got" money as a business, or what Gary and his partners do with it), we've been living like always.  We travel, we go to our place at the beach and our place in Tahoe, we go out whenever and wherever we feel like going.  I've been shopping the same; having the same hair, facials, massages, whatever;  Gary never said not to.  Last month, he bought me the most fabulous Hermes watch for our anniversary.  He never said a word.  I never knew anything was wrong, until the cops showed up with the news.  Even then, I thought maybe he'd been hiding from me that he had some horrible disease.  Last year, a guy he once worked with died from ALS and Gary got obsessed with that, and he started going on about assisted suicide and living wills.  But no, Dr. W_______ says there was nothing wrong with Gary's health, besides acid reflux, high blood pressure and, believe it or not, gout.  Who knew people still got gout?  

And there was no note.  So it was all completely crazy, and I was crying my eyes out and taking the valium Dr. W_______ gave me, and kept going over and over every minute of the last couple of weeks in my head trying to figure out if I'd done anything.  And then Friday, I get a call from the accountant and I find out that everything I thought was my life was a total fake.  

I know it's supposed to be good to vent, but I'm getting a migraine from thinking about this.  I think I'll take a valium and put some cucumbers on my eyes and write some more tomorrow.  If I still have a computer, that is.