A while back someone asked what I was so mad about. Not in a what’s-wrong-with-you kind of way. More in a friendly let’s-talk-about-it way. Hard to explain but they meant well and their question, while I answered it with merely a smirk, caused me to think for a while as many things do. What AM I so mad about? Besides the whole my-wife-just-died-and-that-experience-sucked part, let’s list out the specific things that just piss me off, in no particular order. They all bubble up to the top as The Worst occasionally. (I have lists and lists of sub-bullets that add to each point but I’m going to stick to the major mountains of pain, otherwise it will start to look like gratuitous, even wanton, complaining.)

• I’m single again. I hate being single. I enjoyed being a husband and taking care of and hanging out with my wife (a.k.a My Best Friend.) I don’t want to go prowling around, looking for another relationship. I hate looking. I hate proving myself. I hate all that crap.
• Our dreams are gone – her as a successful lawyer and me with my still-born company. It was going to be great. We, together, giving back to the community. Movers and shakers. Hosting nice parties, inviting friends to Greece, attending banquets, political functions, etc, etc. Poof, gone.
• I’ll never have children with my sweetheart. I was looking forward to the wonderful experience of watching my baby raise our children. We were going to be great parents. It was going to be awesome. Very few people know this but I suppose I can share now. Part of our Master Plan was for us to have our first child right after I graduated from Acton. Master Plan? How naive we were to think we could plan anything.
• I have to go through this huge house full of crap now by myself, sorting through stuff that’s hers and making decisions on what to do with it all. It’s going to take years but I don’t have years (see next bullet.)
• For financial reasons (not for emotional reasons) I’m going to have to sell our home. This is/was our dream home. We were going to raise our kids, grow old and die here. We’ve molded the house into what we wanted and still had more plans. Damn, damn, damn. I was building the perfect workshop in the garage. Our gardens, wonderful gardens that we built together. Making matters even worse, I’ll probably have to move into an apartment. I haven’t lived in an apartment for twelve years. Damn.
• Half my memories are gone. Which ones? I don’t know. I can’t remember. But as a for instance, Maggie was the keeper of driving directions and now I can’t find anything. I’ve gotten lost already going to two different friends’ houses.
• I miss our physical intimacy. I’m not talking (only) about chicky-chicky-wow-wow moments. Just being able to hold her hand or give her hugs, all that’s gone. And we were always very affectionate, something I’m not with other people. The physical comfort we had was blissful, warm and happy. And now it’s gone.
• Maggie was my negotiator and my phone call maker. Problem with the cable service? She’d call and make magic happen. Water get turned off (which it did once randomly the day before Thanksgiving through no fault of mine)? She’d call and they’d send a truck right over to fix it. Deal with AT&T (because we all know they suck at customer service)? She was a miracle worker.  It’s all on my poorly-equipped shoulders now.
• My social coordinator is gone. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have a few friends. But our social calendar was predominately hers and I just tagged along. It was her who people wanted to see all the time. I was just eye candy.
• Almost all my friends are married, most with children. Now I’m gonna be that creepy single guy that shows up at family events or family-friendly parties. Worse, I’m going to get set up with everyone’s single but crazy aunt. You know exactly who I’m talking about.
• Single girls are going to think something is wrong with me. Oh wait, there is something wrong with me. Talk about baggage. Geesh.
• What the hell am I going to do with all this stuff? Oh, wait, I think I’ve already covered that. It’s a biggie.
• I don’t remember what I used to do by myself before Maggie. I really don’t. That was over ten years ago. Heck, I’m not sure I recall what I did before she got sick. I’m going to have to find myself again and re-define who am I. I really liked who I was, who WE were. Damn.
• Maggie was a supermodel with a genius IQ (did you know she was in Mensa?) with the personality of an ambassador with comedic tendencies. The loss for me and for the world is just tremendous. And it hurts.
• My best friend is gone. Now who do I talk to about: what the dog did today, tough decisions, the new bird’s nest in the garage, my day, exciting events, general feelings, dreams, desires, etc, etc.?
• Did I mention this huge house full of stuff?

Now, I’m sure I missed a few things. Probably a few of those missed items are biggies, too. But I’m pretty sure that this list more than adequately answers the question.