I know I haven’t posted in a while. We went away for Christmas and that was good and relaxing. I did have a good time and a relaxing time and loved being with the family.

After we came back, I went over to the funeral home to pick up Michael’s ashes and the DVDs from the memorial service. I know it will sound weird, but we didn’t want him here and alone for the holidays. So the place where he was is big and warm and I went by on Christmas Eve and saw all the nice candles in the windows and said hello and I would be there soon to get him.

I was going to go with the kids, but I went alone and talked to him the whole way home. It felt normal and natural and I can’t describe it, but it felt very peaceful to me and I’m glad I went alone.

When I got back home, I felt good that he was here and felt it easier to talk to him. I know that sounds weird but it’s true. I purchased a beautiful wood box for his ashes that looks so rich and dignified. It has his name on it and it says “Adoring husband, father and grandfather.” and underneath that it says “A life well lived.” And they put the ashes in and then sealed it. The funeral director (who is a lovely, lovely man) said all the things in movies about ashes getting spilled are really not realistic. Which is one thing I somehow feared when I thought about picking it up by myself. I honestly didn’t know they sealed it. (I was so relieved to find this out).

And I feel good about what decisions I made about it. It took me forever to pick out an urn and even longer to figure out what to write on it. And I felt really good about it. It’s a beautiful, strong box that truly reflects who he was.

Then I watched the memorial DVD and cried. Then Gina and I watched it together and cried. And one of the songs on it, Bruce Springsteen’s “Missing,” played through my head for the whole week.

I felt somewhat weepy but strangely and suddenly had huge stomach issues like I have not had in years. It was a new turn. I felt like something was “going on.” All week I was miserable and then didn’t go into work on Friday. I stayed home not feeling well.

Today I went out to Michael’s boat. I was looking at it and thinking I have no idea what to do with this boat. I don’t know if it runs or doesn’t run. A guy looked at it after he died and said it would take money to restore it into working order, but I don’t know exactly what that means. I also have no clue where the key is. I was thinking I would just sell it for parts. I don’t know. I don’t want to but I don’t want to sell someone a boat that I can’t say anything about.

So I went out to write down the engine size and what else it has. I was opening the compartments and when I opened the one with the lifevest, the smell of mold jumped out at me. If there is one smell that makes me crazy, it’s the smell of mold. When the kids were younger I could always tell who had a wet towel in their room, the slightest hint of mold smell makes me completely nuts. After I opened it, I felt as if I had been slapped in the face. The worst smell (to me) in the world at some amazing strength. Ick. Yuck.

I quickly jumped off the boat and almost broke my ankle.

I went into the house and within a few minutes I was furious. I was just freaking furious. I was like WTF hon? Why did you leave me with this damn mess? Why wouldn’t you tell me anything about anything?

Not that I cared about any of this stuff when he was well, but after he got sick I asked some questions about some things in the basement and he said he would go down and look for it. That is not what I wanted.

When he was still mobile I went down with him once or twice but he would open a drawer and stare into it. I don’t know if he didn’t know what he was doing or looking for or he just didn’t want me in his “things.” Later on, I would ask him about things (on days he was very clear headed) and he would say “I’ll go downstairs and show you…” and of course, he couldn’t go downstairs so I would just let it go.

While Michael was the most generous and easy going man, he did not like me or the kids in his tools or fishing stuff. That was pretty clear. It’s one of the reasons why the boys don’t want to take any of his tools. He was very territorial about them. I think he figured we all had the run of the rest of the house and most of us did whatever we wanted and bought whatever we wanted and this was his stuff and not to be “invaded” or “touched.” When the boys were teenagers he was adamant that they not touch his tools (as teenage boys are wont to do).

He didn’t have a lot of dictates but that was one. A big one. Probably the main one. And all the boys respected it. None of them went near his tools. And they STILL don’t want to go near his tools (though Nick took a socket set a month or so ago).

And while he took the kids out on the boat and taught them how to fish etc., he never really shared a lot about the boat. Nick and Theresa know the most about it (as they went fishing with him the most) and they don’t know much at all.

So I jumped off the boat and felt gripped by a blind fury at Michael. S.O.B. F F F F. I was stomping around and saying “FU, FU, FU” which I had not thought or said once since he got sick.

I pointed up and the sky and said, “And a big FU to you hon. A big, giant FU to you.”

I know I should have done something with the boat and the cars when he was alive. But I didn’t. Because part of me felt horrible and disloyal to be dismantling and getting rid of his stuff when he was still here. But now I’m just completely flummoxed.

And I’m angry. I haven’t felt like this before. At all. Maybe I needed him here to feel angry at him. I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to feel such blind fury when he wasn’t here. I have no idea.

And I was writing down the information about the boat I was thinking, “Oh and FU, I’m selling your boat. So there.”

I don’t know if I’m angry because he left me with this mess or because he left. Or both. But I’m mad as hell.

I’ve been angry a lot since he got sick, but this is the first time I’m mad at HIM. Really really angry. It’s like his disorganization and pack-ratness that I accepted all these years because he was so great in every other way, is now really ticking me off.

Because I have no “benefits” of him, just the downside of someone who was disorganized, pack-ratty, and didn’t want to give you information about his stuff.

So today I am angry.

I know it’s normal and it even feels like progress. Michael was special and wonderful and loving and kind but he had traits and did things that DID piss me off. And while I found all this somewhat endearing when he was alive, IT IS NOT ENDEARING NOW.

It is an f’ing pain in my ass. And while I didn’t try to change this about him when he was alive, it was because I had sweet wonderful him here. I looked the other way in a way I would have never done with anyone else. Anyone else it would have been, “Clean up that crap in the basement and garage.”

But that was his domain and he loved it and loved me. So I let it go.

But he’s not here and this shit is just a big freaking pain in my ass AND I HATE IT and I’m angry. And when I feel like screaming, today, it’s AT him, not about him.

I wanted to scream “GD it hon. WTF. Why did you leave me this with giant f’ing mess? Why? FU.”

And that is how it is.

Today.

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