Alone in a crowd

 ...or why I turned down invites to celebratory events and have been labeled as antisocial.

One of the first times I realized that even in a happy crowd, as a Widow, I felt completely isolated and uncomfortable. I went to photograph a wedding as an extra. They thought the activity would be fun for me. It was, until it wasn't. I felt extremely alone in a crowd.

Rich and I used to be tied at the hips and go to family reunions and gatherings. After his stroke, he didn't want to go anywhere, but asked me to go instead. I shared everything with him. How was your day? How was your workout? I was his eyes and ears for walks in the forest and other events.

I do still go to CrossFit and work out. But the atmosphere for me has changed. The others haven't changed, I've changed.

Some of the ladies who come do nothing but talk about their outings and events they have gone to. Lots of socialization with others. I get that, it was the same before Rich died. I just sort of laughed and would come home to care for Rich and tell him all about it. We'd chuckle together. All we needed was each other, right?

The CrossFit open competition starts this week at the end of February. Local gyms pay $20 and get picked on teams who compete at their own gyms. It is a fun competition and I've done it. You score each workout according to your age category and at the end of the games you find out 'how you compare to others in your age group'.

I've done well in years past, but that isn't the point now.

I don't care. I don't want to be in the gym with a huge crowd of family, onlookers, competitors, and the noise.

It literally makes me feel extremely ALONE. As if I am nothing but a ghost experiencing a loss of myself. The old me would have been cheering others on, helping out, jumping up and down, and joining in. Not this me. Not right now. 

Even on regular days now, I feel disconnected from everyone else. The new ladies think I am standoffish. They kept nagging me along with the coach --- they have been doing this each workout for the past few weeks. 

SIGN UP VAL COME ON, IT WILL BE FUN! Yep, they yelled, then the one loud mouth asked me WHY NOT? When I shook my head.

"I don't do crowds right now." I stared hard at her. "I'm still...mourning." I fluttered my hands.

"I just can't." 

I nearly walked out of the gym then when the silence hit. You could have heard a pony tail band drop.

The looks I got the rest of that hour were ones of side glances. It was if I'd introduced them to the Black Plague. Did I have a dark cloud hanging over me? 

Two other ladies in the gym did come up quietly and tell me they completely understood where I was coming from and that it was fine with them. One is Pat who I hike with, and the other is part of our monthly threesome that get together once a month for coffee and chat about grand kids and whatnot.

The coach who used to be a really fine friend never uttered a word. Never said a thing. Through the last few years of Rich's life she was always there with a word of support. 

Rich died. He has been erased by my casual friends. It is if he never existed. 

That's a cold hard truth that widows suffer.

No one asks, they go on. 

I feel like I am not on the same plane of time or space with them. I live in a slightly skewed dimension.

But he is not erased and my two friends and I get together every once in a while and tell stories about our spouses and laugh and they keep me afloat.

I still go to the gym. I still work out. The ghost of me works out. But some days I seriously question the joy of it.

----

Still figuring it out

Your death didn't just break my heart
it also changed who I was
it changed my entire world.

It taught me things I didn't 
want to learn.

I keep wanting to share everything
with you like before.

But now? I stand stunned
in empty rooms.
I don't know what to do.
I get stuck and just
stare
out a window.

Some days I mourn my old life with
you
as much as I mourn you.

Even when you were in Hospice 
and dying, we still talked. 

We still made decisions together.
Always together.

And now.
I have to make them ALL

on my own.

Some people think I should be 'over it' by now. After all, my caring for him has been a long journey. I should have been prepared. We spent 6 months together in the dying process. Each precious moment sometimes felt like forever.

I sometimes wish we had longer and know we didn't. 

The death of a close loved one changes you. 

For 30 years we were partners. Our lives were so intertwined that we were part of each other.
But your gone. So half of me is gone too.

But who am I now? I feel as if I am missing half of me. It is hard to figure out who I am. I have to recreate myself in some ways.
The joy of sharing my escapades and adventures is gone so what is the point of them? 

When I had a bad day, you'd comfort me, even if you weren't feeling well.

I'm trying to be normal around others and I think I pull it off pretty well. Most of the time. 

I'll sit at the gym before our class and listen to some of the ladies talk about pretty bullshitty stuff. Stuff that seems to not matter anymore, not to me at least. I wonder what would happen if I told them what I thought.

They'd just think I'm a nasty woman. Really? Makeup and gym tights are things worth fretting over?

 ~~~~

Death and grief changes you.
It changes your perspective on everything. I do mean everything.

And then comes a bad day. I mean bad enough that nothing goes right. 

For the very first time in my life, I could not do anything. I didn't care. I just sat in the quiet of the house and knew I had entered a place of emotional numbness. I felt nothing. Not even pain. 

Charlie crept into my lap and made no demands. 

For a whole day, I was lost. 

I gave myself that day. I had earned it.

I promise...

          I promise not to be sad every day that I can't talk with you. Every time I go hiking I notice things that we'd talk about when I got home.

Even when you were quite ill, you'd smile and ask me "How was your walk? What did you see?" Or "What did you do at the gym, how was your work out?"

We'd laugh together about my version of events while working out or hiking. 

Things like tripping on a rock and sitting on the ground and seeing something so beautiful that the rock must have said Trip Val! 

Make her see this amazing clump of tiny mushrooms hiding just off the trail.

The times I outran 'kids' 25 years younger than me while doing a gym workout. I'd come home and share that with you and you were so tickled. You'd laugh that deep loud laugh and slap your knee.

You'd wink at me and ask for more details.

I recall the trip I took to Hawaii as a chaperon for my 82 yr old father. I'd come back from taking Dad somewhere and the hotel desk told me to call home, it was urgent.

I called wondering what was wrong. You finally told me that you were standing by the wash machine and you didn't know how to run it. Hilariously, you ran out of clean jeans. I stood on a balcony overlooking the Pacific and gave you instructions on how to do laundry. 

Everyone thought that was such a funny and such a YOU story. The man who couldn't wash dishes or do laundry on his own.

Every time I walked out the door to go to work you were there. Every time I came home, you greeted me as enthusiastically as our dog did..

"How was your day? How was your shift? How was your walk? How was your ride?"

I never tired of telling you. You never stopped listening. 

So today I came home to Charlie and spoke to you even though you physically were not here.

I told you about my class, about shopping, and about everything I could think of. 

I held your picture and relayed all the things you needed to know. I even asked your opinion on what was for supper. I joked that you wouldn't like the broccoli and cauliflower but I was making it anyway.

They might send me to the nuthouse one day if anyone knows how often I talk to you. Charlie is a good listener, but he tends to get distracted easily.

Today was okay. I miss you. I'm glad we agreed that you wouldn't eat broccoli and cauliflower with your chicken. More for me.

See yah.

4 months

Hello 2026.

Something odd has happened. 

I'm trying to distract me from myself.

IF I hike every Single Day for a good distance, I am too tired to miss you. Well, sort of. That is, until the lights go out and I am trying to go to sleep.

Or in the evening when I am trying to distract myself with photography. 

IF I am not busy, I might start grieving. I thought I had all of that settled. 

Apparently not. 

Grief. 

You keep barging in when I am not ready for you. Stop it.

Just when I am doing fine someone comes up to me in the bank or in the store and puts their hand on me and looks sorrowfully into my face.

And they ask in that husky drawn out breathless way... "Oh...howww are youuuuu doing?" Do I bitch slap them and say, "I was doing fine until you asked and I had to think about it?"

Otherwise people are ignoring that subject now anyway. After all, 4 months have passed, but who is counting? 

I am. Because I keep turning around while doing something and start to ask you out loud what your opinion is on something. Then I ask anyway and listen to you talk inside my head or...at least what I imagine your answer would be.

How about the icky creepy neighbor who stopped me in a parking lot. He asked if I had a 7 or 8 foot brush hog to sell? Maybe the vulture in him waited an appropriate time before he started to ask about me selling stuff. 

I had been working with someone else on two things. I hadn't given any of the old equipment sitting in the weeds a second thought. I figured those items would go when I settled on having an auction or two.

I got the false smile and the sad look at the same time. He said he'd call and come to take a look at what I had. Here the creepy neighbor was offering to stop by and look over things. His demeanor sent chills up my spine.

I waved him off with no answer. I didn't intend to be impolite, but I also didn't expect to be approached in a freezing cold parking lot. I should have said he could wait for the auction announcement.

Except I haven't settled on that yet. I'm not brave enough quite yet to call around to auction companies.  

Disappearing your 'stuff' would make things final. 

I'm still working up to that step darling. It's a big one.