I remember screaming

I remember screaming. I couldn't stop at just crying. I was beside the bed we picked out together and he was gone. He hated me. I crumpled into the floor. I was howling. Crying so loud that everything hurt. Visceral and thick, loud and ugly. I just couldn't stop. That whole month I just couldn't stop anything. I couldn't stop the break up and I couldn't stop how messed up I was.  I still don't understand that month.
I couldn't even scream 12/28/90. I cried quietly and was just numb after. When I was a little girl and watched my father beat my mother I never screamed. I was quiet. The day after my mom would have "that talk", the talk where she would explain how "those fights" were our secret. I had to be quiet and not tell. Be quiet, keep those secrets. I wish I had kept quiet September. Everyday I dissect every detail. Thinking thinking over thinking. All the what ifs. There is no what if to fix it. Only what to do to survive it. I get up, I cry less every day. Sometimes. I breathe. I go to therapy. I mourn. Yes I mourn. My marriage was everything. I didn't take it for granted. I trusted it would always be there. I didn't throw it away like a forgotten piece of mail misplaced in the trash. I didn't forget my vows, I just got sick. So I mourn the loss. The loss of the life we had together. Cooking huge amounts, how much I just loved cooking for him. I even miss hanging up his clothes on the clothes line. The bickering over mowing the grass. Trying to buy him every hot pepper plant I could, then he would only eat the jalapeños.
So I mourn. I cry. I breathe. I phone a friend when I need a kick in the butt. And now I pray. Never before this break up, but everyday I pray now. Everyday I am blessed with what I have and every night I pray. I know little by little I am surviving. It's hard.