Healing a bit at a time.

I finally found something I could put on our headstone. I'd been looking for a hanging basket of
fake flowers, but settled on this.

 
Friday while at the gym, I partnered up with a gal named Charlene. She is super quiet and doesn't speak out much during our workouts.

After Rich died, I got quiet. I don't even speak most of the time during my gym workouts except to answer questions.

His death took away some of my spunk and attitude.

Don't get me wrong, I am not mute. I just don't see the point of gossip and other nonsensical conversations that don't impress me. Things feel so much different. Sometimes I feel like I am walking about in an alternative reality from others. 

Charlene and I were sharing a barbell doing Thrusters and other variations of strength training. 

In casual conversation, I mentioned something about taking papers to the bank to prove that I was the surviving spouse with right of survivorship to Charlene. 

Charlene was my 'gym' partner on this day. 

She quietly told me that her husband had died two years ago in June. She admited that Widowhood was difficult, even after nearly two years, she had to deal with things she never thought of.

I stood, probably with my mouth hanging wide open. I said, "Oh, I'm speechless, I think. I've never met another widow. Thank you for telling me." 

I immediately thought JEEZE, that was dumb! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What I should have said aloud is that no one walks around introducing themselves as a widow.

We did another round of lifts.

I turned to her and said, "Thank you, you have no idea how alone I feel being a widow. It is like nobody else really gets it."

Charlene nodded. "They don't. I am glad we spoke. We have something very real in common."

"We do, we are different but we have this." We both looked at each other as we got ready to leave the gym. 

"Thank you."

She nodded.

Her eyes told me everything I needed to know. She still had pain behind those eyes. She still mourned. But she didn't broadcast her mourning or her pain. She kept it to herself because, unless you have that loss, you 

cannot

know 

the pain

endured 

each day.

And you are expected to get over it quickly.

Except is doesn't happen that way. Grief bombards you in the strangest of ways and places.

We smile, we go on. We work at living a life. Some days are good. Some days suck. We continue to explore who we are now that we are not the other half of another.

I waved as I left the gym. "I'll see you next week! And I promise not to lose you on that hike!"

She smiled. The smile nearly reached her eyes and she nodded.

"See you!"

~~~~~

Charlene had told me that she was joining me on the B-day hike. She was worried that I'd hike too fast and leave her behind. I assured her that no such thing would happen.

When I hike with others, it is at their ability and speed. When I go solo for time I never invite others. I am competing against myself. ~~~~

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.