Tomorrow, Wendy.

Tomorrow.

It's 8:30 pm. That means I turn on the hockey game until I fall asleep but not before I think about tomorrow.

Every day becomes a task of how to spend tomorrow.

I never used to worry about tomorrow and always tried to live in the now. We were planners but today was always the most important day.

"It is what it is, Dwan," if tomorrow felt like a day where the other shoe would drop.

I thought I had worries then.

Never worry about tomorrow, we had said.

Worry about what today brings.

But that all changed when the Sergeant came to the door and the chasm in my chest got ripped open.

"It is complete now,
Two ends of time are neatly tied.
A one way street,
She's walking to the end of the line.
And there she meets
Faces she keeps in her heart and mind
They say,
Goodbye..."

Now tomorrow has become the biggest worry.

Will I be able to sleep to noon so at least those hours are taken up and aren't more hours and minutes and seconds of the fire in my chest that feels like it is trying to burn this house down but no matter how many matches and how much fuel get thrown on it my body just won't burn down?

Everyone means well.

I wound up on a Zoom call the other night with 14 other widows.

And they talked about faith, heaven and god.

I don't know why all of that is so triggering for me now.

I'm not religious, nor have I ever been.

I know there is no god.

Yet the simple mention sets me into a rage.

"I told the priest,
Don't count on any second coming.
God got his ass kicked the first time
He came down here slumming.
He had the balls to come,
The gall to die and then forgive us.
No, I don't wonder why,
I wonder what he thought it would get us?"

I've seen enough suffering and loss in the world that no concept of a higher power would ever let it happen with a conscience.

Oh, but that's not god, right? That's the devil.

Your concept of god can't even take accountability.

That doesn't fly here, anymore.

No pun intended.

Religion has become yet another trigger to throw on the list that never affected me in the least and I could let folks carry on and have their faith while going on about my day.

No more.

"Only god says jump,
But I set the time,
'cause if he ever saw it
It was through these eyes of mine.
And if he ever suffered,
It was me who did his crying..."

And I hate that.

I hate that I can't help but be enraged now by anyone who holds on to their faith and the belief that anything good happens in this life or after it.

There's not much of a happening scene in the cold, cold ground.

So, tomorrow.

"Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone."

No shit.

Every day now becomes a day of looking to tomorrow - not because it holds some promise or anything even hopeful; tomorrow is now just another day to go through the motions until it's time to shovel prescriptions into my mouth to bring sleep and wake up in another pile of sweat.

The only looking forward I do now is to try and get to things to distract me.

A haircut on Wednesday.

A hockey tournament starting Wednesday.

A meeting on Thursday.

Hockey until Saturday.

The after party of our tournament.

Then...what?

Group therapy on Monday.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Life is happening but it isn't living.

I spent Friday to Sunday at a cabin with a few of my best guy friends.

We fished, drank beer, talked, laughed and I felt like 15 year old me. She's the last version of me before Brad who I remember being happy. It was nostalgia, it was friendship and it was simple.

Tonight I spent the last day of the long weekend with two amazing widows and their friend.

"The Soulless Sisters."

I love them already and know we are going to be great friends.

I feel we are great friends.

I hate that we had to meet like this.

It's so hard to see any beauty in any part of the day now, even when weekends are long and bring what should be joyful, beautiful times.

I guess, as Tom Petty said, "Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks."

It's too bad every day has lost its shine now.

So, I'll go watch hockey.

I'll wait for medicated sleep.

And wake up tomorrow.

And miss how the shimmer on every day was buffed off the day his heart stopped beating.

Because mine did too.