He would have been forty today.
He, being my ex-husband.
He's not forty today. Today, just like yesterday, just like every day for the past five years, he's dead.
Today, it's bothering me that he's dead.
It's not because I still love him. I don't hate him (and I never could), but I don't love him. I did love him and I did care about him, once upon a time, but he was so cruel and so vicious to me that my love faded. I fell in real love with someone else, and there I have remained for many years. It's not love.
It's something else.
I'm a seeker. I always have been. I need to know. No matter what it is, I need to know. I'm always looking for the answer. I always try to figure out whodunit before I get to the last page.
I'm certain this makes Jason crazy, and why wouldn't it? I'm constant with the why and the how and what do you feel about this? It's not just that I want to know because I'm curious (and I am), it's that I need to know. Because when someone is dead, you can't know anymore. You've read the last page and the killer was never revealed.
Every time I've said something on Facebook or any social media about dead ex-husband, people always say things like, "I wish mine was dead!" or "lucky you!" or something. Yes. Lucky me. I don't have to deal with that. I don't have to share custody. I don't lose children for the summer every single year. They are all mine and always have been. I'm thankful for that, sincerely.
This man hurt me. He hurt me really badly. He left me when I was pregnant. He said mean, horrible, vicious things to me. He never had a relationship with his only children, his only flesh and blood in this entire world, and I believe it was as a result of a misguided attempt to hurt me. He didn't want to support them financially. He had a girlfriend when he was married to me. He did a lot of really, really rank shit. Naturally, I should be really pleased that he's gone. That I don't have to deal with him. That my children don't have to be hurt by him.
That's not the way it works.
I wish every day of my life that was the way it works. It's not.
Today I'm sad. I'm sad for a whole lot of reasons, none of which I can really explain very well.
Even if he was alive today, I don't think he would be forthcoming with information about why it all went down the way it did. Why he married me when he obviously did not want to be married. I don't think he would suddenly realize how wrong he was and beg his children to let him be a part of their lives. I don't think he would apologize for how horribly he treated me. He would not suddenly start taking care of himself so he wouldn't have to be thirty-five and dead. I'm quite certain he would not do what was medically necessary to give me the facts for my children to ease my very troubled mind. He wasn't a good person when he was alive and I won't pretend he was just because he's dead.
The fact is I can't fix any of this now. There isn't even any more hope.
That is what is hard about today.