the number four...

has no significant meaning to me. four is not my lucky number. four isnt the number of cats i have (though i wish i did) four isnt even the number of years that ive owned my car. but this weekend the number four rolled around in a big way. this weekend four was the number of months that tim has been gone and it punched me right in the gut. 

im going to be really honest with you and say that the other months havent effected me quite like this one did. when the first month came around i let out a sigh of relief that i fucking made it. i had survived one whole month and it felt big. i felt proud of myself. second month creeped up and i thought ok so the first month wasnt just a fluke i am actually doing this. i have two months under my belt... its fresh and it hurts like hell but here i am . going into month three i was in the process of starting a new job and things were busy and chaotic. month three didnt slip by unnoticed by any means but it also didnt arrive screaming at me like month four. four feels final to me. 

one thing that doesnt change no matter the month is how i handle the night before tims official death date. tim went outside to take the garbage out at 11:45 pm. the time sticks out to me specifically because he said "im going to take the trash out and finish playing my game then ill be in." being the bossy lady that i am i remember telling him he had fifteen minutes to get it all done. it was late and we both had to be at work at 7:00am the next morning. at 12:00am tim still hadnt come into our room. i got up to give him a friendly reminder that it was time for bed and he wasnt there.  on the anniversary of his death date i envision a bright red digital clock. i can almost here its ticks as it counts down. i look at the clock and think at this time tim had exactly one hour left. at this time tim had thirty minutes left and now fifteen now ten. i hold my breath as the clock rolls around to midnight. what would we have done differently that night if we knew death was slowly caving in on us. could we have run away? would it have found us? 

i woke up on the day of month four feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. i felt physically ill and even though i had just gotten up i felt exhausted. every footstep hurt me. i ignored the messages and phone calls i got because i just didnt know what to say. people dont want to hear that youre having a shitty day and you cant get out of bed. they want the best for you. they want to hear that youre hanging in there but sometimes its just not possible. with eyes full of tears i sat in bed googling tims name and reading through his obituary checking his instagram even writing him a message on facebook just in case. i was hoping that maybe i would find a mistake and that it wasnt actually him. maybe it was a different tim and mine is just chilling on a island somewhere or off snowboarding in the mountains. i could call our parents and friends and say "dont worry i found him!" ...sadness can turn you into a hopeless fool sometimes.  

month number four...this round goes to you. but im coming back again next month so lookout number five. 

-s