Let's start from the beginning, shall we? In October of 2011, I was informed that my grandmother had been sent to the Hospice home, we agreed that I should go see her since I hadn't in years. I left on Halloween, took a bus to Denver, then a train all the way to my hometown, Jackson, Michigan. He wouldn't even drive me to Denver, not just to save us $30 that we really didn't have to spend, but to say goodbye, all because he didn't want to deal with the traffic.
One of the things I alluded to, but never outright said, was the fact that the guilt of taking away my husbands chance to be a father was tearing me apart inside. Something was getting to him as well. The bus station was only one of many instances where he couldn't be bothered to take a small step to show he cared. Things at home had been less than happy for a while, it had gotten to the point where he would barely speak to me, spent all of his time in the Man Cave playing video games, and seemed irritated if I wanted to speak to him after being trapped in that apartment all day with no one to talk to but a rabbit, cat, and guinea pig. All of these things plagued me while I was in Michigan, made me wonder if going back was the right thing to do. By January of 2012, I decided that going back was not the right thing to do. We had both been unhappy since I had come out with the news of no more fertility treatments, I gave him an open out, he was free to walk away at any time and I would completely understand. He was afraid of what people would think of him for leaving me because I couldn't have children, so he refused to make that decision. Instead, we just lived a broken life, clinging to our pain and never solving anything. So, I told him I wasn't coming back to Colorado and I wanted a divorce. He didn't take it well, at all. I hope one day he'll understand that I did it not because I hated him or was angry, but because I loved him enough to want him happy, even if it cost me everything. Eventually, it did.
He never really fought to keep me, tried to bully me into marriage counseling, but I refused, no amount of counseling could fix my broken body or give us children, so why put ourselves through that?
I found a job back home, working in a factory, got my own apartment and by May of 2012 was beginning to make a life for myself there.
Then, all hell broke loose. One night in May, I went outside for my 3am break at work and had a missed call from my best friends husband and an eerily calm voicemail from him saying that something had happened and I needed to call him back asap. Thus began the worst week of my life. I called J back to find out that M had had a stroke, she had an extremely rare medical condition that no one knew about, including her, but she was expected to make a full recovery. That was Wednesday, Friday she had a series of strokes that the doctors couldn't stop, Sunday they pulled her life support. What?! She had just turned 23?!! Through the calls, I stayed calm and let J be upset, and assured him that I would be there as soon as I could get rid of the apartment. I was back in Tennessee within a week.
After losing M, I completely shut down. J was gone to California by the time I arrived at the house, leaving me alone, in their house, the house where so many times M and I had stayed up too late talking, making memories that I still cling to desperately.
I wrote this over a year ago, until now, I thought it had been lost when the motherboard in my MacBook was fried. Even more has happened since, but those are things for new entries.
I still miss M every single day. I haven't seen G since she was eight months old, and J and I had a falling out and have since lost contact. A fact that makes me incredibly sad. I keep contact with M's sister and father, and through them occasionally get to see pictures of G. She's looking more and more like her mommy as she grows. I can't believe she's going to be 5 soon.
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