8:26 A.M. - Monday, Sept. 03, 2007
I cannot look at him with pity any more
That man that lives here no longer being referred to as "husband" is an as*. Yesterday was hot while the auctioneers worked again in the shed, sorting through all tools, nuts and bolts and such. I worked with them helping clean off years of use for better presentation, untangling wires, hoses, ropes, organizing in separate boxes. Many items were mine that I helped organize as well.

Ever so often that man would come around and give a description of something none of us had a clue what it was, or what use it had. Most the day he stood away from us looking across the filed, at the house, or sitting on the porch.

Around two I came in to get cold drinks as their supply had been diminished, there he sat with a beer. Yes, I gave him the look. I sent a prayer they would complete the job for the day before enough beer went through his system that would be noticeable. I am so weary of watching and waiting for the next explosion.

The auctioneers left around six, hot and tired, thank God the only reaction during the four hours he sat drinking was his wondering around the fields looking as if he had lost his only friend. When they had a question for him, they had to holler out and when describing something, he would explain as if speaking to complete idiots. I made up my mind to leave.

I sat on the porch to get a feel of his thoughts it helps knowing what frame of mind he is in before leaving hoping against hope nothing will be destroyed in my absence.

He rambled on about his loss of the property, his hatred towards people, how he was never going to take "crap" from anyone again. He told stories about how he walked off jobs because someone said things that pissed him off. He told me his biggest regret was not making three trips a year back to his home town, now it was too late, his daughter was gone.

He blabbered about how I didn't get it and never would. Those words cut deep, me thinking he had forgotten this was the weekend preceding many years ago we had buried my nine-year old grandson. He had not forgotten, he looked at me and told me until I lost one of my own I would never understand his grief.

I got up and told him I was leaving and would be back Tuesday when the auctioneer was scheduled to return.

Came in took a quick shower my heart heavy with memories of loss, and tossed in a load of laundry.

While I was packing a few things to take he came in and told me he hoped I found happiness tonight wherever I planed to go, he would fix his own supper. I worry about him burning the place down while cooking while I am gone and I worry about my family when he is out of his mind.

I told him I would fix dinner on the grill, so I did.

I fixed dinner with heavy heart, not talking just listening to his crap about how he planned to live in a tent, his truck, how he planned to get disability because he wasn't going to work for any more as* holes, he'd live on welfare if he had too. He shifted blame back to me; I suppose it is much easier than looking in the mirror.

I pushed food around on my plate as he ate and he gibbered on about nothing but nonsense. He asked me if I was going to sit around depressed all night and say nothing.

For me there was nothing to say, much to think about, God, let this end. He talked about how glad he will be when he can leave, Lord if only he knew how much I wish the same.

He bored of my silence took a shower and went to bed.

I'll leave this place in hell with no regrets, I'll leave with no sorrow of a life I felt we had together, I'll leave with a smile, not tears. I'll leave�For now all prayers for him from me has ceased, wishing him peace has stopped, I am counting days, hours. Please God, give me the strength.

Sandyz

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