Health by Heidi

  Yesterday marked the one-month anniversary.  One month without the love of my life.  One month without my One.  It seems surreal. Sleep only stayed at the party for one night.  I haven't seen her since.  Infinite Sadness and Disbelief billowed into the bedroom and awakened me at 3:00 am, smothering me in heavy darkness.  My eyes filled with tears.  One month. Earlier in the week, I had made plans with a good friend to hike yesterday.  His knowledge of the mountains here far exceeds anyone I know.  He knows all the good spots.  He promised to take me to his favorite secret trail that leads to a few high mountain lakes.  I agreed to the hike at the time.   Lying in bed, Infinite Sadness and Disbelief suffocating me with leaden fog, I wanted to cancel.  I couldn't imagine hiking all day.  I couldn't imagine getting out of bed.  Tears became rivers flowing down my cheeks.   I grabbed my phone, t...

  I had officially moved in with Scott.  We lived in a blue house on the edge of town, just off the highway.  There were a few other houses up past ours, and the driveway to those houses ran along the edge of our yard.  Our bedroom, along with the front door of the house, also faced this same driveway. One summer night, around midnight, I woke up to lights blazing in my face.  I was disoriented as I tried to shake the sleep from my head.  Scott was already awake, sitting up in bed, looking out the window.  As full consciousness slowly cleared the fog, I realized the lights were coming from outside.   "What's going on?" I asked groggily. Scott shook his head.  "Not sure." We heard two car doors open, then slam shut as a man and a woman got out of the car in mid-argument.  They were using all the colorful language, accusing each other of awful things as they flung insults at each other like cow pies, hoping one would stick.  Thei...

  They are inevitable.  They come whether you are ready or not.  The firsts.  The markers.  The milestones.  Some show up without warning.  Others are planned.  None of them is easy.  I have had a month full of firsts, markers, and milestones, none of which I thought I would have to deal with for 30 more years.  But here I am.   I spread some ashes last weekend.  The ashes of my One.  It felt impossible.  The act of spreading the ashes felt impossible, and the fact of what I was doing felt impossible.  I kept waiting for the punchline, but there was none. I washed the sheets on Sunday, for the first time since THAT DAY.  Scott had been in my head for over a week.  Wash the sheets.  Love, wash the sheets.  They are gross.  Wash them.  WASH THE SHEETS!   I finally listened.  It was time.  It was almost as hard as spreading the ashes.  I cried.  I could fee...

  Scott and I had been dating for about a month and a half.  I lived in my house, and he lived in his house, with 50 miles separating the two.  One evening, Scott had driven to my house for dinner.  We had finished eating and were standing at the sink doing dishes, when he turned and looked at me. "I don't want to spend another night away from you," he said.   I smiled at him, gave him a hug, and we went back to doing dishes.  I learned quickly that Scott said what he meant and meant what he said.  After that night, we spent every night together for years.   Because his work schedule was more flexible (he was self-employed at the time, and I was not), we decided he would stay at my house Monday through Thursday nights.  On Friday after work, I would drive to his house and spend the weekend there.  I had a smaller car at the time, so I didn't mind driving back and forth.  Scott had a big work truck that got terrible gas mil...

  It was August, several years ago, and the county fair was in full swing.  Scott and I decided we wanted to go check it out.  I remembered always loving amusement parks and rollercoasters and all the twirly rides, and thought the rides at the fair would be fun.  We discussed it further and decided to make the evening into a date night.  First, we would have dinner, then go walk around the fair, then ride some rides.  It sounded great. Evening came, we drove to the restaurant, and enjoyed a lovely Italian dinner, complete with bread, salad, pasta, dessert, and wine.  It was all delicious, and Scott and I left the restaurant full and happy.  To the fair we went.   We purchased several tickets for the rides, then walked around for a while, seeing the sights, and watching the people milling around.  We played a few silly games.  We laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.   "Let's do a ride," I said.   Scott no...

 I heard a noise at the front door.  It was quiet, hard to hear above the riot of the party-goers.  I went to the door, opened it, and looked around.  I saw nothing.  I shrugged, closed the door, and that's when I felt it.  Something started to coil around my legs, slowly circling up and up, around my torso, squeezing.  It found the battered remnants of my heart, wrapped itself around, and squeezed with all its might.  What was happening to me?   I was familiar with a few of the other party guests.  I knew Sadness, Disbelief, Confusion, Rage.  I knew them as milder forms of themselves, and in much different circumstances, but this new guest was strange.  I didn't know what to make of her.  Then I heard her whisper to me, I am Loneliness. I didn't know Loneliness.  I had never met her until now.  Infinite Sadness, close friends with Loneliness, saw her slither through the door and ran over to greet her. ...

 Scott was an amazing person in every way.  He did have one downfall, though.  Perhaps curse would be a better word.  He had a curse, and it was this: if ever there was a foreign object in food, that food would find its way onto Scott's plate.  Always.  Every time.   I lost track of the times he found hair in his food in restaurants.  The most recent occurrence was when we were in Missoula.  We were having dinner at a nicer restaurant there, which shall remain anonymous.  We had each received our entrees and were happily dining away when I noticed Scott's face change.  He went from pleased to disgusted.  I saw him look down at his meal, reach into the sauce, and pull out a very long, very dark, very curly strand of hair.  He held it up for all to see, then dropped it on the floor and pushed his food away.  The waitress immediately came over and apologized profusely, comped us the dinner, and offered to make a mea...