In Private

Prologue

"They'll never know how truly awkward their condolences made me feel.

I never knew what to say, but smile and politely respond with the expected usuals.

But, what was I supposed to say?

I'm not sorry he's gone from my life. The first thing I did, when I heard, was smile uncontrollably, then sob in joy.

Second, came the confusing pain. Pain of his death hit me like I hadn't expected; it came in phases.

The shock of his unexpected passing. Sad for his death, but happy that he was gone from my life.

Guilt for feeling joyful about it.

Mourning both what could have been our future but never would have been, and mourning what our relationship should have been.

Uncertain about the new future. Long lost optimism filled my chest.

What was I supposed to say?

Oh yes, he was such a sweet man; so kind. Yes, he could be gentle and hilarious. He had such a personality. Great dad and husband.

When, he wasn't yelling at me for my mistakes and flaws; physical and mental.

When, he wasn't exploding in violent temper.

When, he wasn't making me fear for my and our children's safety.

When, he wasn't throwing things or punching holes in walls.

When, he wasn't picking fights on purpose so he'd have an excuse to run off to the strippers.

When, he wasn't a horny slobbering drunk.

When, he wasn't making horrible jokes at my expense.

When, he wasn't embarrassing me by picking fights with companies over mistakes he had made, until they submitted and gave him what he wanted.

When, he wasn't showing up to the Christmas pageants drunk.

When, he wasn't disappearing with his buddies for days at a time. Smelling like a pot den and liquor bar. Looking like he spent the days in a ditch.

What was I supposed to say?

Yeah, I'm completely lost without him.

More like, that I had completely lost who I was because of him.

That I have no idea who I was without him. He had consumed me. Taken everything I was and made me turn against it.

I barely remembered the vibrant, feisty, adventurous girl I was in the beginning of our relationship. The one he fell in love with, but, for some reason, became who he hated most.

A gradual chipping away of all my likes and interests. An upswing of his annoyance of my apparently grating personality; traits he loved turned into traits he hated.

Shamed into ridiculous expectations of my body. Like it wouldn't be different after having three kids. Like I can control the disgusting stretchmarks and pouch that resulted from growing humans. Like I could control sagging boobs from age and breastfeeding.

Reprimanded for even the slightest faults. Non-reaction became praise in my desperation.

I compromised, adjusted, and took all into consideration, but slowly realized, along the way, that he never showed me the same curtesy for longer than a week.

What was I supposed to do?

I spent so much of my life catering to him and being who he wanted me to be. Now that he was gone, I could rediscover myself.

Yet, wherever I turned, there were reminders. People taking notes to gossip about later. Ridiculous unwritten rules about how I should've been acting because he died.

Like I was supposed to be in mourning for the next two years; not a smile allowed to grace my lips. No fun to be had, least people think I was enjoying life without him.

Conservative dress only, like nun wear, so I don't show that I might be trying to tempt other men. No dating for five years; apparently. Wouldn't be right to move on too soon, not that I was tempted to attempt another romantic relationship so soon.

Like they expect a widow to completely shut down for years after the death of their partner.

None of the expectations consider reality.

None of the expectations consider that the last years of the relationship were teetering over the edge of marriage rock; divorce always a threat of the inevitable fall.

That with him dead, it just meant he was goneand could never come back." 

In a bit of a writer's block with my Dezirah series and my wip novella, so I started working on "for fun" book. AKA- No publishing pressure.

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