In response to the emailer who asked me how I could post so flippantly less than two days after my husband's funeral. I only have this to say:
You deal with things your way, and I'll deal with things my way, with help from my family, friends, two therapists and my writing. Maybe even with help from my boyfriend.
And for the record, I've been grieving for Cole since April when I actually went back to him briefly and then again in May when he tried to kill me. He's been dead longer than just a week in my world.
I need a thicker skin. Tomorrow I'm going to talk more about comparisons and new couple dynamics and the effects of that on said family and friends. It's been...interesting, to say the least.
And now, I'm hitting the road with the sunroof open in my little sportscar and I'm taking my Def Leppard Hysteria CD with me. Because 1987 was a good year for music, a full ten years before Savage Garden ever made it to my stereo. And because Jake refuses to listen to the lead-in to the chorus for Love Bites because he says it's painful so he wouldn't let me play it in his truck. I don't get it but he won't explain. Pfft.
I don't wanna touch you too much baby
cause making love to you might drive me crazy
I know you think that love is the way you make it
So I don't wanna be there when you decide to break it
Oh, on second thought I totally get it now.
