The War Day 11 (Friday) Weeping for the lost

Image result for pictures for weeping

Friday 20th April 2007

I am still not sleeping!  Every time I close my eyes I see Rich and her together, naked, kissing. I was awake throughout the night so I got up at five o’clock and did the ironing! I knew that I had to keep my mind occupied and I had read that doing things was a mechanism to allow you to feel as if you were in control. I needed to feel in control, because, in reality, I was still so out of control. I tried to look at the positive at least I was getting the fucking ironing done!!

My boss, April  called me, as she had every day since The War’ had broken out; she was seriously concerned about me and wanted to make sure that I was alright. She suggested I go into work to see the girls, who are also all worried about me. The thought of going into work frightened me; all those pitying looks and hushed whispers, but I knew that these people really cared for me and I had to move forward so I agreed to go in to see them all.

Driving into work I have the music blaring out, ‘Hit ‘em up style’ by Blu Cantrell. I needed anything to try and fill my mind, and I cry all the way there. When I get to work and walk into the office the girls all came in and hugged me, told me that they were there for me, that I was worth more than what had happened. All of them are shocked at the amount of weight I have lost and I know that April is especially worried because I am now nearly two stone thinner.

No-one can understand why Rich has done this, when it was clear that he loved me so much. I know that they’re trying to help me when they tell me this, but it doesn’t help, because I can’t understand it either; and if it were true I would just feel that all that love was wasted.

I decide that these people care for me so much that I need go to back to work, and make the decision to  I go back on the following Monday.

When I get home I sit in the car for about five minutes gaining the courage to go into my own home, because as always I dread going into the now empty house. Tom has gone to Essex with his friends and I am alone in this beautiful house, the one that we were so happy in, and now it is just this shell with all the memories echoing around me as I walk on the bare floorboards, the floorboards that I lovingly sanded and varnished. The house just feels so sad you can almost hear it sigh.

After about five minutes of me going in ‘her’ partner knocks on the door because he wants  to tell me  that ‘She’ has contacted him and told him that ‘She’ and Rich are going to rent a house together in a town nearby, and that they have a tenancy agreement in place. I ask him why he is telling me;  can he not see that this is exactly what ‘She’ wants him to do? ‘She’ wants him to tell me because that will increase the chances that I will never have Rich back. I tell him that I don’t want to know anymore and ask him to leave.

I am so shocked. That is it then! Rich is not coming back! Rich is setting up home with someone else and I cannot believe it, cannot believe that he is setting up a home with ‘Her’. How did I go from holding hands with this man two weeks ago, to him now moving to a new home with a new woman?

I can’t stay in the house, I can’t bear it for one moment more. It is Friday night, a night we would have spent together, If Rich had still been at home he would have just finished a night shift and we would have had a rare weekend together, and it makes this particular Friday night, when we both would have been so excited for the weekend ahead, even harder.

I have to get out, so I go down to a pub where I know the landlady well. I don’t care about the fact that I am going into a pub on my own; I see it as a rite of passage, I am on my own and I need to get used to it and get used to doing things on my own; and I see going to the pub alone as a fear to face.

Because it is Friday night, and early, the pub is full of blokes all celebrating finishing work for the week, and getting ready to go out and get drunk. I know that it looks as if I have been crying for a fortnight, because I have, but I don’t care.  I also know that my figure is starting to look really good, with all the manic exercise and the amount of weight I have lost, so I sit at the bar and buy myself a wine. Some of the men in the pub live in our avenue, it is as if they all rally round me because they know what has happened. They stand with me, buy me drinks, talk to me so that I don’t feel alone.

Another kind deed.

After they leave I finish my fourth large glass of red and I am totally pissed, because I have not eaten for nearly three weeks. I stagger back home, crying all the way; I don’t care what the people who pass me must think, I just look like a sad drunk woman to them, but I feel so lost that I just couldn’t give a shit. Everyone is laughing at me now, the sad bitch whose husband went off with the woman who tried it on with so many others husbands, but mine was the one who left. What does that say about me?

When I walk into what was my beautiful home that I cherished the door slams shut and the sound echoes up the hall.  it is just an empty house, constantly taunting me with the memories of the past because of all the happiness that it held, happiness that was a sham, happiness that is now lost; and all it contains now is the sound of crying.

Snowy our Westie is pleased to see ‘mummy’ as always. I put on my new CD’s and dance around the kitchen; I play Justin Timberlake, “What goes around” over and over again. Then Nelly Furtado’s album , but I don’t know all of the tracks on the CD and suddenly  I find it …“In God’s hands” and it hits me like a hammer.

As I listen to the words of that song I just sit on the kitchen floor sobbing, playing it again and again for over two hours, whilst the beautiful Snowy tries to kiss my tears away; but he cannot keep up with the volume and they plop onto the floor until  the floorboards are soaking wet.


I looked at your face
I saw that all the love had died
I saw that we had forgotten to take the time

I, I saw that you couldn’t care less about what you do
You couldn’t care less about the lies
You couldn’t find the time to cry

We forgot about love
We forgot about faith
We forgot about trust
We forgot about us

Now our love’s floating out the window
Our love’s floating out the back door
Our love’s floating up in the sky
In heaven, where it began
Back in God’s hands

You said that you had said all that you had to say
You say, ‘baby, it’s the end of the day.’

We gave a lot
But it wasn’t enough
We got so tired
That we just gave up

Now our love’s floating out the window
Our love’s floating out the back door
Our love’s floating up in the sky
In heaven, where it began
Back in God’s hands, back in God’s hands

We didn’t respect it
We went and neglected it
We didn’t deserve it
But I never expected this

Our love floated out the window

By Nelly Furtado and Rick Nowles


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