Month 2 Update

Friends,I have sent Ron this blog entry and have taken his suggestion that I sent it out the "old way," too, to make sure you are updated on me. I am getting those questions from a variety of people, "Are you OK? How are you doing?" I started this entry last night and finished it today.

August 28, 2008

A dear soul gave me the following prose that is so true for me: "You think that their dying is the worst thing that could happen. Then they stay dead." (Donald Hall)

It's been two months without Jack now. Although I am more accustomed to being alone, I am not accustomed to the loneliness. The reality of his passing sinks deeper, and thus, it hurts deeper when it hurts. I still want to converse with him about something I saw or heard, something we would both get a chuckle, a tear, or tinge of outrage. I catch myself several times a day just wanting to see his face and his smile, next to me in the car, sitting at the dining room table, washing dishes. I miss reaching out and touching him, holding hands, being hugged. I miss the "second opinion," the helping hand with everyday tasks and errands, and his presence in the house. I miss him looking at me, being looked at with affection and devotion and commitment. Certain musical lyrics will drain my resolve and strength, seemingly able to gather into one song what I feel and think, and I am weeping. And then I hit "repeat" and listen to it, again and again.

I worded my essence without Jack as "just me" for awhile, and, now, it's evolving to "still me." I've learned that I can do whatever it takes to keep this house as mine. That is comforting. I can manage my time and tasks, although I live by lists to keep me focus. That is comforting. I stumble through those "1st time" moments, being painfully reminded that it's "just me." Simple things like renting a video, watching a favorite TV show, to more emotional like having a birthday or noting the elapsing time has become 2 whole months already. But I get through them as "still me." And that is comforting.

The crazy part of my tasks/errands reminder is I will think of something that needs to be done, but the original list is upstairs or downstairs, and I quickly grab the nearest piece of paper and write the note, knowing I will forget it otherwise. I spend a part of a day gathering these notes onto ONE page. My best "note fiasco" thus far was, while at the cabin recently, writing all that I needed to bring from home back to the cabin. I left it in my shorts' pocket and I thought of this just as the washer went into its wash cycle. I'm frantically pulling out this 100% soaked pair of shorts, praying the note is still somewhat intact. Nope. Got a "clean" slate on that note. Hope nothing was vital, as brain also has a clean slate on that list. :-/

A part of his ashes will be placed behind a retaining wall at the cabin on Tuesday, Sept. 2nd. That "burial" is another nudge to the brain and heart that Jack is gone. I've bought a single brick that is different in color than all the other bricks to be "his brick" in the wall. That will be a good reminder of all that that place meant to him and that he will always be there.

More than anything else, I want people to know I am OK. My dog helps motivate me to get out of bed in the morning, and that is good. I put on my under garments correctly, and clothes are right side out and facing the right way. That is good, too. There's not a day goes by that I don't' cry. It still is sometimes unbelievable that Jack is gone and unbelievably painful at times. But, know that I moving forward into the life I should be living,..in the here and now.

Tally