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I’m 37. Tom died Sept 1, 2000 when he was 47. It was sudden and unexpected. Life goes on, everything seems so normal, but nothing is normal anymore. Every morning it hurts to wake up in an empty bed. Every night it hurts to go to sleep without Tom next to me. All day long I want to call him to share all the little things with him. I would call him every day on my way home to let him know I was on my way. Now no one cares what time I walk in the door. There’s no one waiting for me. No one knows me, cares about me, loves me the way Tom did. I’m not special to anyone the way I was to Tom. I took all of the pills I had in the bedroom and emptied them on the bed and counted them. I only had 5 Xanax, 33 tylenol p.m.‘s, and one ambien. I also have some xanax in my purse and 2 valium in the kitchen. I figured the 5 xanax and 1 ambien wouldn’t do anything, and neither would the valium or the rest of the xanax. I don’t want to take the chance that I would just get sick or in a coma or something, so I put everything away. I thought about the bottle of wine I have in the refrigerator, and perhaps filling up the bathtub and just soaking in the tub with a bottle of wine. But then I figured I’d just end up having a hang over in the morning or something. So I figured I’d just go to sleep and pray that I didn’t wake up. A few minutes after I composed myself and got ready for bed the phone rang.
