I have been sleeping a lot lately. I am trying to function and stay strong for Alex but we are pretty darn secure in the store now. People are actually starting to get into routines and our living conditions are tolerable. There are not a lot of improvements left to be made. Sure, we are sleeping on pool air mattresses and the showers are not exactly optimal and we need to seriously address the clothes situation very soon but we are living. It means downtime and as I am struggling with the inevitable loss of my wife, I would rather sleep than face the reality of my situation.
Despite my best attempts to hide this from the group, apparently I don’t have much of a poker face. I guess this is pretty evident to the group because Jennifer came to me quietly while Alex was up on the roof with Lance, Kasondra and Brad. Having full access to the pharmacy, she handed me a prescription bottle filled with these blue capsules.
She wants me to get on an antidepressant. I guess knowing me from before the zombie apocalypse and seeing me now – this shell of my former self – she wanted me to get back on even keel. I am not anti-drug and I am sure they helped millions of people every year. I know they tremendously helped my sister-in-law. But I see medicine for depression being effective when it is anxiety or depression that cannot be explained. “I just won the lottery… and I want to kill myself.” You should be happy as all get out. And if you are not, then something must be wrong and maybe medication is best for you.
But I am not depressed because of some chemical imbalance. I am depressed because my best friend and the love of my life might be wandering around as a flesh eating zombie. Or a shamble of these things are pounding on the front door right now trying to get at her and I cannot save her because I am trapped in here.
Lance seems happy as a big in slop because he spends a considerable amount of time on the roof picking off zombies and bragging about head shots. Maybe I need to turn my attention towards something productive. Still, I look at the pictures I keep in my wallet. I look at the pics I used as my wallpapers on my cell phone. I look into those eyes and I think I will never hold her again. I will never kiss her again. I will never smell the aroma of her shampoo fresh from the shower. I will never feel her breath on the back of my neck as I sleep.
And I think about all the stupid, asinine fights that we had over the years. I regret every missed opportunity to show her how much I cared and loved her with all my heart. And now, for all I know, she is gone. For all I know, she looks down on me from heaven with my mother. And it hurts. It hurts so much it is like I want to tear my own heart out of my chest. And I just want to sleep. Even now, I want to lie down. I just cannot take it anymore.
I need to be strong for my son. After all, he has lost a mother and I know exactly how hard that can be. So I cannot let him see me weak. But I don’t even want to wake up in the morning. Truth be told, with her gone, I want to die too…
