If

There was this song we used to sing in church. It kinda went like this- Count your blessings name them one by one and it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Guess it’s worth a shot.

Counting my Blessings. Take 1.

1. I am thankful that I got to spend at least one year with Rajeev.
2. I am thankful for my family. I can’t imagine getting through this without you.
3. I am thankful for the life I got to lead with Rajeev- that we never once shied away from showing/voicing our love for each other (We were quite embarrassing). That we never ever took each other for granted.
4. I am thankful for Bridget Jones’ Diary, Solitaire, and pedicures because somehow, apart from my family, these are the only things that seem to keep me sane.
5. I am thankful for my friends. Even though I don’t return your calls.
6. I am thankful for…

This isn’t working.

If wishes were horses,

• I’d wish that this was all just some crazy nightmare.
• I’d wish that he died the way we had planned to die- Together, after the family reunion we’d hold on our 70^th wedding anniversary, and because we boogied too much on the dance floor and ate too much cake.
• I’d wish that he never got sick in the first place.
• I’d wish that I had let him eat that last brownie instead of saving it for the folks at his office. I had promised that next time I’d make a whole batch just for him. Who knew?
• I’d wish that people stop coming to me and crying. I really don’t know what to do then. Crying people make me cry and I really, really hate crying in public.
• I’d wish that life was like in the movies where teardrops were enough to wake up anyone in a coma.
• I’d wish that I could just fast forward to five years later and not have to deal with the todays.
• I’d wish that I could mess up his hairdo one more time.
• I’d wish that we got to take more ridiculous photos.
• I’d wish that we could both sing Wolfmother songs in the car again.
• I’d wish he were still around.

If wishes were horses, hell, I still wouldn’t have one.

So...

My husband died three weeks ago. Turns out he had a brain tumor that he did not know about. No symptoms, no signs, no nothing. He gets a headache one day, goes to the hospital, gets admitted into the ICU, and never came home again. He was in the ICU for 27 days and in a coma for 25 of those days. It’s good in one way because he did not have to suffer as much as he would’ve if he were conscious. It sucks because none of us got to say goodbye.

A widow at 25. Who would’ve thunk it? I was still getting used to being married at 23.

So much for all the dreams I shared with him. I dreamt of kids. One would be just like him- a boy with super straight hair, long gangly limbs, and a wicked sense of humor. He would be my favorite child and no girl would ever be good enough for him. I dreamt of Rajeev and me shopping for our home and arguing over which curtains to buy. I dreamt of family vacations with all of us wearing matching t-shirts and multi-colored crocs. I dreamt of tantrums in the supermarket. (What can I say? I really really like my Oreos.)

Well, so much for that.

It sucks that I can’t call him in the middle of the day just because I miss him. It sucks that I can never watch him drink his morning tea, or watch him gel his hair. It sucks that whatever future I do have, will still be a future without him.

And then there are the whys. And the hows. And the what-ifs. And the if-onlys. Each one more maddening that the first. I look for answers, but nothing helps. Then the other day, my friend told me something I will never ever forget- Sometimes, it just has to suck. And it’s true. There doesn’t always have to be one single way to deal with suckitude. You don’t always have to be strong and unflaggingly optimistic. Sometimes. Life. Just. Has. To. Suck.