Sunday, March 31, 2013

Imaginary Friend

Source: My computer. I can't remember where I got this from.

I feel like my dead husband has become my imaginary friend.

I still tell him about my day. I still rant, cry and laugh about my day with him. I tell him my secrets, whisper to him in the dark. I will remember something funny he did, and laugh out loud, usually in the most awkward situations. And say “Remember that time you were showing my brother how cool your new lantern was, and you lit yourself on fire?? That was hilarious!”

I will be going on with my day. Working in the garden or at the grocery story. In my head, I will be rambling on to my husband. I go on and on, and suddenly I realize what I am saying in my head, isn't really in my head. It’s coming out of my mouth.

When I realize I’m actually saying my one sided conversation out loud, I stop mid sentence, and slowly and shamefully look around.. Of course, there is always someone standing there, giving me the look.

I want to scream at them. “I don’t have an imaginary friend. I am talking to my dead husband. Mind your own business.”

Because… well, talking to my dead husband is far less insane then talking to an imaginary friend.

I have lost my friend. My confident. The therapist I found inside my husband’s advice. He’s gone. I miss talking about my day. Bouncing ideas off him. Asking him “Does this dress make me look fat?” I can’t watch is face glow and hear his amazing laugh when I tell one of my not so funny jokes. I can’t wake him up in middle of the night after a bad nightmare, ramble on about the dream, and curl up in his arms. The arms that kept the world at bay. The arms that protected me from the midnight thunder storms that would shake me from my slumber.

I can’t call him crying when I have a flat tire or when I have a pipe break and it’s flooding my neighbor’s basement.

I miss my best friend, more than words could ever describe. I miss knowing no matter what, he has my back, and he will make everything okay again.

The loss of this friendship is shattering.

I have grown tired of this one sided, imaginary, friendship.

He never has a response. Never answers my questions. Doesn't wipe my tears or tell me it will be okay. Some days I think I truly am insane, and he actually can’t hear a word I say to him.

There is just the sound of my voice blabbing on, then complete silence. No response from my not dead, very much alive, husband.

The silence is deafening. 


  1. I understand.... and you're not crazy. You're just dealing with this very difficult transition in your own way.

    Perhaps it's time to try this:

    Write to your husband in a journal, in a similar way that you do now, just in writing instead.

    Then read what you've written and write back to yourself. Or just write on from there.

    Just a suggestion...

    Many warm greetings -


  2. EXACTLY ...........I think you might be me in a parallel universe lol

  3. Same! I write to my husband constantly. I like how you've described him as your imaginary friend. I never thought of it that way, but it is true. And just last night I had a nightmare and woke up wishing I could be comforted by his arms and his love...but nothing is there anymore.

  4. I'm talking to him now, as I write this. I don't know,if anyone asked, I'd say I'm still married to him. Maybe it will change as more time passes, but for now, it makes me feel a little bit better. I do have to be careful about doing it in public - living alone, I talk to him all day long and sometimes "slip" out in the real world. Screw it. I'm fine with being that kooky lady - they'd be more concerned if I was sobbing and wearing my pain on my sleeve instead of chatting to a dead guy. Whatever works to keep us going and not in abject misery is good enough for me and better be good enough for anyone else. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off widow.

  5. It's been almost 4mths since my husband passed away
    and I find my self doing the same thing. Thank God I find out I am not alone.

  6. I am realizing that it is very difficult to be in love with a dead man. For the very reasons you cite above; but more, for me, because love is not given or received. Hate this!

  7. Mostly I talk in my head to him, but I think I am going to try doing it out loud. Then the silence in my house wouldn't be so deafening. Thank you for sharing your thoughts

  8. I have been doing this more and more as I put more distance from Linda's death. I read this and I cried through the whole thing. Related totally. I will now not worry about how I look when I'm talking to her. her name was Linda Louise and I don't think she ever liked her middle name. Now I find myself calling her Linda Lou and it kind of freaked me out when I saw someone in the chat room that had a similar name. All I know is it feels good when I talk to her that way and I know she understands it is my new pet name for her. Never had one before. Hang in there.

  9. It is so nice to know that I am not alone, I talk to my husband all the time. I find myself chattering away just like he is sitting or standing next to me, then I realize that I am pretty much talking to myself and wonder if I'm loosing my mind.

    I also write to him, I have written to him every night for the past 33 weeks. Sometimes I feel that I won't anything to say but once I get through the first paragraph the rest just comes pouring out. I miss him, more than anyone could ever understand.

  10. Yes. I know this too well.
    X Amanda