I don’t see how I can keep going

It’s been four and a half months (136 days) since my husband got sick with the flu and ended up dying in front of me after ten days of hell trapped at home with our young child.

On Mother’s Day a couple days ago, his dog mauled a neighbor’s pet cat to death in front of my son. Fortunately they were incredibly gracious about it, but it still makes me sick. I can’t shake the feeling that whenever things get bad and it actually matters, I am powerless. I couldn’t stop this cat being killed, I couldn’t stop my husband dying from the flu.

This morning I inquire about my husband’s truck that’s been sitting in my driveway since his death. I realized then it was in his mother’s name. She said her son, my husband’s brother would help me get it fixed up and sell it, and I could keep the money, and he would do so for the boat in my driveway as well, which was in her husband’s, my dead father in law’s, name. My husband left me with nothing but debts-zero in his bank accounts and pockets, no insurance, secretly months behind on the household bills he was responsible for.

This brother, the one who said he was coming the night my husband died and never did, the one who didn’t meet our child until it accidentally happened this last thanksgiving, the one who didn’t even send a card let alone come when we got married, finally came two weekends ago, which I was surprised but hopeful about. I had a prior engagement for my son, so had to leave for an hour. When I came back home, he had left with the boat and told my mom he was coming back in two weeks to get the truck running.

I text him this morning to inquire about when he’ll be here this weekend. He informs me that he has to work and will come “at some point.” I ask about the money for the boat and he says he has given it to his mom, who hasn’t said a word about it to me though we’ve texted multiple times.

I don’t know what I’m doing writing this all out. I just feel so shit on. I’ve had to deal with so damn much to try and get through these last months. It has taken everything I have. My husband made it almost as hard as possible for me to deal with his death. He just didn’t care much about the future, his or anyone else’s. But I’ve fucking done it. And now this, his dog and his family, who should be supportive, just fucking me in the only way they can. And there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s a good Christian though, of course. God will protect him from anything negative impacting him through this. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe these hypocritical, shallow in-name-only, on-Facebook-only Christians are right; I should get into performative Christianity and only care about myself? I don’t think I could be so selfish though.

I guess I just needed to shout out into this network of people thrown into this jarring, disjointed alternate reality, navigating these lonely and terrifying waters, people that understand, to get a little bit of commiseration that could be a life jacket for a minute.