Triggers

I am finding that so many things are triggers...

Opening the medicine cabinet to brush my teeth and seeing 'his' shelf just as he left it...

Opening the curtains in the living room in the morning and catching a glimpse of his car...the car that caused some angst.  I can laugh now at the audacity of it.  HeHe  I was gone on a trip...and a week or so into it I happened to see that he posted on fb 'oh yeah...happy birthday to me' and underneath was a picture of a new, beautiful cranberry colored Volvo.  Well, needless to say I immediately logged off (I was on dial up) and called him..."Hey, what's with the picture of the car?",  from him I hear "It's mine, I bought it, do you like it?",  "Well yeah, it's beautiful, but what do you mean it's yours...don't you think you should have talked to me about it first...how did you pay for it?", "I sold your car...remember I talked to you about it?", uummmm  "NO...YOU SOLD MY CAR?  is this a joke, cuz it's not funny.", "Remember I told you your inspection sticker runs out in December and it needed a new @$%^#, so we would need to decide what to do about it?", uummmm "Yes, I remember, at the end of December we needed a new sticker but before that we needed to replace a break thing-a-ma-jig and that we had over a month to deal with it...from that you heard...sure babe, by all means, sell MY car to get yourself a brand new car, I'll just walk.", "uummm, well, you can have my old one =)."   Like I said...the audacity.  He's VERY lucky he's cute and I'm cool as hell.  lol

Getting in the car and going anywhere...he brought me to Rhode Island, this place was his home, I see it through his eyes as he introduced it to me, everywhere I go...we went, all of it.  I can't seem to drive anywhere without crying.  I do it ever day.

Being in the kitchen.  I am, by nature, a big cook.  I swear he married me for my food.  lol  We spent a lot of time in the kitchen...he would DJ, I would prepare a feast.  We would dance, we would sing.  And that is where he would find me when he came home from work...nurturing a meal I prepared just for him.  Always.  I can hear him enter the foyer downstairs and sniff loud and mumble some giddy little comment, then the tromp up the stairs where he would have his greeting by his biggest fan,  Jewels our chihuahua.  Then he would hit the landing and say 'Hey good lookin...whatcha cookin' and then he would walk up behind me and grab my ass or my...well, you get the picture. ALWAYS.  Every night.  Without fail, this is how it was.  I have not really cooked anything since the day before he died, I have no taste, no desire, no joy in it just now.  I pray this will change.

Our home...I have not changed a thing...all is as he left it when we embarked on our journey that fateful morning in May.  His jacket is hung on the hook.  His crossword is open to the page he left it.  His shorts and T are on the chair at the end of the bed.   Everything looks so normal, looks as it should.   But normal it isn't.  Nothing is normal here anymore.

So so many triggers, and these were just a few.