Two Months and 6 Days...Lost & Found
Time continues to slip away from me, and I am not sure if I have accomplished much of anything in that entire time. Then again, I am fairly sure my expectations of my own abilities are entirely too high, as compared to what someone else might consider to be acceptable after the loss of their spouse.
I personally know others around my age who have lost their spouses, but I haven't reached out to them, really. Truth is, I haven't reached out to much of anyone. I know we hear over and over again that everyone grieves in their own way, and I guess I'm no different.
The day after his accident, I began to have visitors after the initial four who stayed with me for awhile went home. I wasn't ready, so I hid. I went into my room and let family who was there handle anyone who came by and told them to either be quiet, help clean, or leave, but I was not going to be bothered. I had no energy or desire to care what was being said to them. At that time, I was in such a state of shock that I can look back now and realize that I cannot remember if I slept, ate, drank anything, went to the bathroom, etc. It was that way until I saw his body for the first time.
I can't even write about it without crying. If I had a pen and paper, I would be dripping tears on the fresh ink as I write...
Those first few minutes, hours, days were a blur. I hardly remember being alive. When I saw his body in the casket, the jolt back to reality was intense. It shook me to see the man I loved to the deepest parts of my soul lying in the beautiful recycled barn wood casket the kids picked for him, in the brand-new, button down dark blue long-sleeved Freemason collared shirt he had been saving to wear for a special occasion, and his face clean-shaven into the goatee he knew I loved so much. He was so still, so cold.
It isn't fair. It isn't #@!%$%* fair! We had a good thing going!
I decided early on that I needed to spend most of my time grieving alone. It wasn't because I am depressed or hiding. It is because I have to have this time to live inside my own head, in my own space, for a while to figure out what it is going to take to move on. I have to fight with myself to do what I have to do. I'm going to be on my own. I might as well figure out how to do it alone.
Some days, I'm doing great. Some days, I don't even cry. I keep myself busy enough to not even think about it...much. I look around at all I have to do and just muster all the strength I can find to get up and do just one more thing to improve the house each day. Today, I made use of a gorgeous pottery pitcher I purchased from someone I know, added some fake sunflowers and turned it into a centerpiece for my kitchen table. And it's awesome.
Today, I was just fine all day until I started writing this. The memory of seeing him for the first time was overwhelming. I don't believe I have actually thought of him in the casket until today, just a few paragraphs back. I picture him in life. I picture his spirit near me. But I don't picture him as dead.
I know exactly what it is that I want in my life, in my future. I have had plenty of time to think on it and I have made a conscious decision to continue my life and be happy - without him - wherever it may take me. I know where I would like to see myself in a year, five years, ten years or however long I get.
I want to open myself up for love again...eventually. I want to travel. I want to write something big. I want to take a lot of pictures and spend a lot of time with all of my family and friends. I want to make new friends and get to know some people better. I want to continue to lose weight - I'm down a total of 53 pounds from my heaviest - and still losing. I've got a long way to go, but that's okay. The weight loss isn't so much the big deal as getting back to a place where I can play on the summer softball league around here. I've wanted to do that for years!
The part that sucks? There is still the business of taking that step forward out of my dreaded space-time continuum that I need to take. I know I'm teetering on the edge but something tries to drag me back in. Something like picturing him in his casket, or another straggler phone call or piece of mail for him that I need to handle, letting them know he is deceased.
I am keeping my eyes on the outside, though. I'm trying.