404 Error

Imagine that you sit down in front of your computer and type in a web page that you've been to hundreds of times before, but instead of that familiar site popping up you receive the dreaded 404 Error. The message tells you that what you are looking for can not be found.  You can reload the page as often as you want, but the same stubborn error reappears each time.

Perhaps it shows the geek in me but every time I look for Daniel and realize he isn't here, 404 Not Found pops into my head.  Daniel spent a good deal of his free time in front of the computer in our study.  He loved to read web comics and play video games.  Most of the time I was right there beside him. Sometimes though, I would be in our bedroom across the hallway reading or something and he would close the door to keep the noise from disturbing me.  When I walked by to get a drink I would always peek in and blow him a kiss or ask if he needed anything.

I keep the door closed now.  This way I can imagine that he is still there, sitting in his favorite chair, guarding the flag from the enemy troops.  If I concentrate hard enough I can almost hear that full-throttled laugh that is so familiar to me floating through the door.  I pause outside sometimes, hand on the door knob.  I know if I open it what I will find.  But as long as it is closed, I can pretend for a few moments that my heart hasn't been ripped from my chest.

At night when I lay down to go to sleep, I close my eyes so tightly.  I turn to face his side of the bed and reach out.  If I don't peek, I can almost trick myself into believing that he is right there with his fingers inches from mine.  But when I open my eyes, it is always the same thing... Not Found.

I love you Daniel.

The girl in the mirror

The girl in the mirror looking back at me is wearing a Metallica t-shirt.  I don't expect this and it catches me off guard for a moment.

You see, we're experiencing a bit of an identity crisis together - this mirror girl and I.  I never know what I am going to see when our eyes meet.

Today, she is snuggled into one of Daniel's old t-shirts.  I never really liked Metallica.  I prefer what Daniel calls "happy, peace loving hippy music." But I sure did love it when Daniel sang to me.  I always knew I could put on Astronomy and he wouldn't resist singing along.

I was always my true, best self when I was with Daniel.  He was mine and I was his.  Together we were amazing.  Without him, I no longer feel like myself.

Now I am trying on these new roles.  Brave, Stoic, Responsible, Together.  But I know, I would not be these things if Daniel was here.  In his arms, I would be able to be weak, sad, and broken.  Then he would use his "radio announcer" voice in an overly dramatic report of my problems until I broke out laughing so hard that the tears changed magically to joy.

It occurs to me that Daniel will no longer be here to tell me how much he loves to see me in pigtails.  He won't point out how cute it is that I insist on bare feet at all possible times.  He won't beg me to say "worcester sauce" because the way I mispronounce it is just so adorable.

Like all of us, I am perceived differently by different people.  To Daniel, I was this cute, funny, smart, amazing person.  I can still wear pigtails and go barefoot but his Amy no longer exists. Because he is no longer here to have her reflected through his eyes.

We hear that grief gets better with time.  That someday we can get back to ourselves.  Yet this kind of loss cuts too deep to not change us.  I don't think that the pain ever really lessens.  Time just gives us a chance to forget what it felt like before we had the scars.

I love you Daniel.

Messages from Daniel

I started this blog to write about all of the things that surprise me or seem most absurd about the grief process.  I consider myself a strong, logical person so all of these crazy thoughts felt like they were coming from someone else.

But as much as I miss Daniel terribly, there are so many happy memories that he gave me.

I was going through some old text messages from Daniel recently.  He showed me every day how much he loved me and often when we were apart he would text me with declarations of love. Messages from my Sweetie are on the left side and my responses on the right.


Daniel was always a big romantic.  He loved me even when I didn't "get it" right away.

But it wasn't all just romance and poetry.  Sometimes, he used math to prove his love for me.

That's not to mention, the coding language of love.

So, how do I keep going without him?

I love you Daniel.

Zombie Brains

I often joked with Daniel that should a zombie apocalypse occur, he should simply let the monsters eat me.  Because, I'd teased, I would not want to live in a world without internet connection.

Even so, when I woke up recently to find that the cable and internet was no longer available to me, I had only myself to blame.  I'd seen the disconnect notice.  I had plenty to cover the expense.  There'd been more than enough time to call and make the payment.  I simply did not.

You see, most all of our bills are automatically drafted from the bank.  But this one bill had been causing Daniel problems.  For the last several months he would call them and ask why the debit had not come out, and every month they would apologize and say next month.  He'd just spoken with them the week before he passed away and had to pay over the phone.  Apparently, they still hadn't figured out the billing issue.

Now it just felt so overwhelming to deal with.  A silly thing really, but in my mind it became a monster problem.

I find it strange how grief works.

In the days after losing him, I was devastated but still was able to coordinate notifying our friends and loved ones, finding a funeral home, planning a service, writing the memorial notice, and even accommodating out of town family members.

But now, months later, there are times that something as simple as deciding what to have for dinner is a mental hurdle far too large to navigate.

Last week, I wore Christmas socks to work because doing laundry was out of the realm of possibilities.  I guess that even though I may have escaped the fate of being zombie chow, my brain is still being eaten up.


When I was laughing with Daniel just a short time ago, being here now dealing with the grief of losing him seemed as likely as living through a zombie attack.

I love you Daniel.

Missing Love Actually

I'm not a superstitious person.  I haven't read my horoscope since I was in my teens.  When I see a penny, I don't pick it up so that I will have good luck.

So, I'm definitely surprised by my sudden bout of...   unusual thinking.

It all started with Love Actually.

You see, Daniel and I have a Christmas tradition. Every year, we watch Love Actually together.      Every. Single. Year.

Except this past Christmas.

Something kept coming up and then the season was over and we'd missed it for the first time.  19 days after Christmas, my darling Daniel was gone.

So, the idea started floating around my head that there was a connection between missing the movie and losing Daniel.  It was my fault for not making sure we watched it together.

Now, the flood gates have opened.  Suddenly, I've started all these little rituals and my brain is making crazy connections.

Things like.... if I don't say "I love you Daniel" out loud at least twice a day, I will lose my connection to him and won't be able to find him again when I pass on.

Logically, I know these things are irrational.  But I still keep thinking them.

So...  it may be possible that I am going crazy.  But, I think maybe I am just missing my love, actually.

I love you Daniel.

My husband is not a cat

Ok.  I know for a fact that my dead husband has not come back to me as a cat.  I just want to get that out of the way right up front.  No need to start calling the men in white coats just yet.  

But...     

sometimes, at night...      

when I am alone...

I start to think strange thoughts.  They go like this.  "Hey, I am sad and this cat seems to know when I am the most sad and immediately runs up to comfort me.  Maybe Daniel is here trying to make me feel better."  Of course, my brain knows that Daniel has not borrowed the cat's body to come up and purr me to sleep.  Definitely not.  

But the cat does seem to be somehow possessed to act very differently than her norm.  I should explain a bit more for this to make sense.

Daniel and I got Seffy, our cat, when she was a kitten 10 years ago.  Since then, we have seen her roughly 30 times.  Months would go by where the only way we knew she was still around was because her food bowl needed to be refilled or the liter box changed.  I do not exaggerate when I say that the only real proof of her existence was the fluffy grey puffs of hair that floated its way into the dust pan on cleaning days. 

Yet, since the moment I returned home from the emergency room on the night Daniel left us, she has been very attentive. And, when I am feel most like I am going mad, there she is... rubbing against my arm and rumbling softly.  How does she know?

This has been going on for months now.  Today I realized something.  I was sitting alone thinking of him and she ran right up to me.  "This is nuts," I thought.  Then it hit me.  

I'd sighed his name.  

"Oh Daniel," I whispered.  And... in an empty house these are the only words that have been spoken in hours.  So, this cat is not being enthralled by my husband to comfort me in his absence.  But instead, these periodic utterances during times when I am most lost have broken the long silence and called her to me.

I love you Daniel.