I'm a drunk. I drink every day. And I can't stop myself. I just drink, and drink, and drink, and drink. I need help. I know I do, but I don't want it. It eases my pain. I can't take another second without her. Not another minute without my Karen. The Karen I spent my hours with, the Karen that would force a realistic laugh at my jokes, the Karen that made me happy. I need her back. But our so called 'God' stole her. What kind of God steals from his people? I see him, now, as more of a monster.

I get home around 2:00 AM because I am afraid to face my lovely children like this. They shouldn't have to see their own father the way I looked. The pure sadness in my eyes, as if I was dead and my soulless body just roamed the earth. There were times I did feel emotionless. Maybe for a second or two after I drink I forget, at least I think I forget, about... her. Maybe I don't, but I sure as hell feel close to forgetting about her.

While I sleep I dream about when Karen would prank me by putting plastic wrap over the toilet. I know, weird memory. But it was one of my very few that I remember clear as day. But then I wake up and every time I close my eyes I see her. I just don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to cry, I don't want to drink, I don't want to see her white, lifeless face whenever I close my eyes. I just want to be normal again.

A couple of hours later I wake up. Maybe around 5:30. My bed smelt like Karen after a long day. I breathed in her scent before leaving my warm, comfy bed. I get up and walk down the dusty stairs, making sure that I left a note explaining my absence and why I won't be home for another week. It said:
Guys, I'm sorry I haven't been home. I've been... dealing. Any way, I wanted to tell you I'm physically safe and I will be home in week for good.
With love,
Dad.
Deciding that note was enough for now, I left the old house and got out of my driveway. Being sure not to hit the mailbox.

When I got to my new job, (I had quit mine out of hopelessness to go anywhere) I made a few new friends. They seemed like good people, and they've been through some shit. So, we talked. All day, in our little cubicles, we talked. Just talked. No work. Which was relaxing due to the fact that I just lost my wife. No one here knew each other's problems. It was very calming to see that we just clicked without knowing the shit that happened to us. For the first day since Karen died, I had a good day.

Let me just explain myself, the reason I had to leave my wonderful kids is because my work is seven and a half hours away, and I work for a week straight, then go home for two weeks. It goes on and on like that, little to no change happens with work. At least when I quit my job it's a change. But my schedule really never changes. I always have to leave for a week or two, there's no avoiding it. But when I come home I get to see my kids and it's like I'm seeing them for the very first time. That's the feeling I look forward to.

On my drive back home I listen to Carry on Wayward Son By Kansas and think about, well, everything. My wife, my kids, my job, some small things. I start to feel that pain in my chest again when I think of Karen. She's gone and there's no getting her back. I can't fail my kids because of this. I won't do that to them. I can't.

That week was the very week that I decided to quit drinking every night, and when would start making dinner for my kids, being there for them, seeing them as much as I could. I won't take them for granted any longer. After my long chain of thoughts got broken I pulled into my gravel driveway. I walked in and yelled "I'm home!" In a happy tone. No answer.
"Guys! Please come down!" I yell loudly up the stairs.
Still, not answer. Not even a giggle.
I jogged up the stairs and every so often my one of my feet would slip. I go into Miles and Maya's bedroom, both empty. I go into mine and Kar- Oh wait, it's just mine now, I had forgotten she died from all of the joy in my life this week, still, no one was in there either. I start to not be able to breath. A feeling of fear and anger runs through my body like it's cold water being poured on me. "My.. my kids are g-gone," I stutter out.

A/N
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 101 VIEWS!! I LOVE YOU GUYS A LOT FOR READING THIS BOOK. Even though I'm a beginner at writing, you guys are okay with that and give me kind comments on how to improve instead of hate. I love that. Thank you.
With lots and lots of love, Liv. xoxo