I Hate That...

I hate that I have so many Goddamn coat hangers. I used to take them from your side of the closet all the time. Even when I would get more it never seemed like we had enough, and you would bug me for stealing 'yours'. Now there are so many.  I will only have more, your side of the closet still has many of your things. The precious stuff that I wouldn't let go of, now just there amongst so much space and a bunch of empty coat hangers. It feels wrong taking them from your side now.  I hate coming home around 9:00pm. You would always wrap up working on the computer when I got home from teaching at recovery and we would play. Truthfully I hate coming home most anytime, I am happy to see Ollzie but am confronted with the emptiness.

I hate the office. I keep the door closed, sometimes I just go in to slip things on to your desk, as if you will take care of them one day. For the first few weeks Ollie would walk to the office and back to me and back to the office. We were both used to seeing you there, she has stopped checking for you there, but I still hope to see you at the desk.

I hate that the bed is cold at night when I crawl in, even with the bed heater on high. You always warmed me up.

I hate that the wall in the kitchen that I wanted to turn into a living wall is now a memory wall. It is beautiful and I couldn't imagine not having that sacred space for you but, what the fuck.

I hate that nothing is the same, I hate that I swear all the time. I can't even really help it. You knew I was serious if I ever swore, you rarely heard it.

I hate that when I go out I know everyone is thinking about it. But no matter how much they are thinking about it, I am always thinking about it more. I hate that you are not out with me. I hate that I'm at a crazy sexy burlesque show and people are giving their condolences on the passing of my husband.  I should be coming home to you and showing you what I learnt, not talking about the loss of my beloved at 29.

I hate that that is my reality now. Known now as the young girl who lost her fiancé.

I hate that I have learnt these precious lessons about the fragility of life and now am this person who is wiser to the way of the world, but I don't get to share that with you.

I hate evenings alone, and weekends but most of all I hate Sunday nights. My whole being knows that these were our intimate times, but you're not here so I'm fucking lonely.

I used to love alone time, but now I am just alone.  I miss your rituals, our routines, I miss you.

I am hating a lot these days, but I am still loving you.