I told a friend of mine that I'd gotten the call to come get them. She offered to come with me, but I felt strong enough at the time. I figured I'd go get him and come on back home. I received him along with a death certificate. It was horrible. I got him back to the car, put him in the front seat and cried. I actually talked to his ashes. "We're gonna go home, Ok?" He didn't say anything. I don't even remember the drive back. I guess that was that Widow's Fog kicking in again. I just remember closing the door and locking it behind me. I even had the mail too. I don't remember getting it. It's like I'm a robot doing the routine and not even thinking about it. He was hurt at work and was about to get disability. I got a call from them yesterday informing me that they knew he was the breadwinner, but he wasn't hurt long enough for me to receive anything. So last night, like every night. I'm online looking for work trying not to become homeless. It's been a struggle and I don't really go back out OTR without my John, but it looks like I might have to. This means I'd have to leave my kids for weeks or up to months at a time. They begged me not to go back out on the road. I told them I'd do my best. So now, along with the daily pain, I could possibly be homeless. Couldn't get any worse, right?
Well, this morning, I woke up and looked at the date. It's officially December. I was never so disappointed to see December in my life. John is back in November. I wanted to stay in November with him. He entered and exited this world in November and I wanted to be where ever he was. I'm in December alone. This sucks! I want my husband back.