Damn Cake

     Well, dammit! I was so proud of myself for making it two whole days without having a meltdown. Then, out of nowhere, I had a major meltdown. Saturday, my best friend brought her mower over and mowed my yard while I did some weed eating and worked on shoveling dirt out of my weed-infested flowerbed. I thought it was great that I was able to do outside work without crying. You see, Doyle kept an immaculate lawn and our 80-feet retaining wall was covered with beautiful flowers and roses of all kinds. It died when he died. I have struggled to keep the lawn mowed and tend to outside chores since his death. There I was, sweating pools, but not crying pools.

     We had our annual cemetery decoration day Sunday. I was the main speaker last year and it was tough. This year, I just shared a few memories and read a poem that I wrote. I did not cry. (I seldom cry in front of people, but I usually have a meltdown afterward when I am alone). However, I stayed strong yesterday.

     I was off work today for the holiday. I did a lot of house cleaning and washed my linen. I was on my feet all day. I also washed my daughter’s car to get it ready for selling. It was her first car. Doyle found it when she was 15-years-old and we bought it for her. I was recalling the way he came home from work to tell me about it and how I was a little perturbed because I was working outside and he wanted to go look at it right that moment. We went. We bought it the next day. I remembered all that, but I did not cry. In fact, I smiled because he never let me live down the fact that he was right to convince me to go look at it.

     I made it through two days filled with memories and I decided to bake a cake this evening. I was frosting the cake when I had a meltdown. While spreading the chocolate frosting, I thought about the way Doyle did not care much for sweets. He preferred frosting-free cake. Whenever I made a cake, I always left part of it unfrosted for him. I also did that with cupcakes. I love chocolate so I would eat frosted cupcakes while he ate plain cupcakes. Oh my God, how I miss that! That is what got the tears rolling, a damn cake.  I frosted the entire cake and imagined how great it would have been if he had been sitting in his spot at the dining room table just waiting for his unfrosted cake.

     I would not wish this kind of pain on anyone. I miss the man I love so much. People think it gets better with time. That is bullshit; it gets even more difficult because it has been that much longer since you have seen the person you love. Every time I make a wish, I wish that I had my husband back. It does not matter whether it is my prayers or a shooting star, that is what I wish. I have not had a birthday cake since I was a little girl, but if I did and it had candles—I would wish to see my Doyle.

 

©2012 Relinda R.

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4 thoughts on “Damn Cake

  1. Thanks for sharing honest feelings of your loss. I’ve heard you don’t forget the loss of your loved one, but than eventually you learn to integrate it into your life. Be gentle. It takes as long as it takes. Everyone is different.

    • Thank you. You’re right, everyone is different. Some people learn to live without his or her significant other and some never do. It is like walking around as half a person because your other half is already gone.

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