Friday, June 18, 2010

Rolling Rock

Dear Tommy,

I was looking up today at the tops of our cabinets and was thinking of the memories from the cup collection and the "beverage" collection. I saved one of the unopened wine bottles you sent me for Mother's Day last year while you were in Reno for training. You were gone for 6 weeks, same amount of time as you've been gone now. You wanted me to drink it, but I couldn't. I felt that it was special and I needed to keep it.
I was also looking at the Rolling Rock bottle we've had for the last 4 years. It makes me sad to see it there, and a little angry, too. That bottle has been around from the beginning of us living together. We've had it since we were living in that trailer for 6 weeks while we waited for base housing. Oh man, I wish I could forget how miserable we were there! I don't know why but we did not go even One day without having at least one fight! I remember you coming home with the Rolling Rock and I asked why you got that. You didn't know, you just felt like getting it that night. One of your friends came over and made fun of you for it, so the Rolling Rock just sat there. We finally got our housing and moved. Thinking about it now, we got our keys on May 10, 2006, exacly 4 years before you died. That last beer bottle came with us. I wanted you to drink it, but you said no, and I wasn't going to get rid of it until you drank it. Even in the new house you would ask me to get you a beer, and me being the submissive wife (haha) would always get you one-- the Rolling Rock. You would never drink it, though. One time I was finally going to open it myself and you walked into the kitchen and asked what I was doing. You told me that I couldn't open it, that we had to keep it forever because it was with us from the beginning. You told me that as long as we kept that Rolling Rock we would be together, so Tom, we kept it. There were a few times that I wanted so desperately to open it up, or break it in front of you and say to hell with the beer and to hell with you, but I never did. I didn't want to jinx us. I didn't ever really want to say goodbye, even when I told you I was leaving. I never meant it. You never did either. It came with us to our new house-- Our house, the one we bought together, the one that I still haven't been able to take your name off of. We brought it here, Tom, and it is still here, so why aren't you? You said that as long as we have that unopened beer bottle we would be ok, but we're not ok, Tom because you are gone and not just 'oh you left me, but maybe we can work it out.' No, that I could've handled, but that's not what happend. No, you left me in the worst sense of the word, by your own hand. How am I supposed to deal with that? I see this seemingly insignificant beer bottle, but to me it means so much. It means my/ our marriage in some ways. It's one of those inside things that no one else will ever understand in all totality except for "us" but again now there is no "us" anymore. Tommy, why is this stupid beer bottle still here over 4 years later, but you are not? You lied. You said we'd be ok. You told me that we'd be fine and I believed it. I know. It's a beer bottle for Pete's sake! That is not what keeps a marriage together, but it was one of those things. It's been around for 4 years, all 3 places we lived together, 2 moves, and so many times it came close to getting broken or poured out, but it lasted. We were supposed to last. We didn't. I don't want to accept that.
My plan for the Rolling Rock now? It's simple really. I forgot to bring it to Delaware for the funeral. I thought about putting it in your coffin along with the picture of us that you had with you 'that' day (thank you MarSOC for getting that back), but since I forgot it, my new plan is to bring it to your burial. I figure the only fitting thing to do since we are now in a sense separated is to separate the Rolling Rock as well. I plan on pouring the beer on your grave and keeping the bottle for myself. That way it goes with both of us. I though also about breaking it over your coffin, but I think I may be sad later on that I don't have the bottle. Since you'll have the beer right now I can always break the bottle on your head stone or something later on if I feel I need a more symbolic and angry way to get out my feelings over it. For now, we'll split it, just like my heart is split in wanting to be with you and needing to be here for our kids. Well, I'm off to bed. See you in my dreams, I hope.

Love Always,

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