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I’ve always known that I could handle whatever comes my way — well, almost always — but I’ve discovered that I preferred it when I had the help and support of a spouse. Dealing with a flood in my place after the upstairs neighbor’s diswasher hose popped is not fun. Neither is living with 5 heavy duty fans and 3 industrial strength de-humidifiers for 5 days. When I tried to read the newspaper at the kitchen table this morning it was like trying to read it at the beach with a 20 mph wind blowing. The guy who installed it all said it would be like having an indoor hurricane — I thought he was exaggerating! As I open packages (food), I have to hold down the wrap or the small pieces or they blow all over the kitchen. Good grief! Yes, maybe it is good grief — I miss having Joe here to talk with, to problem solve with, to help, just to have him nearby. I wish he were here, and an incident like this intensifies that wish, but I am getting used to dealing with things by myself — don’t like it, but I can do it.
It has been more than six months since Joe died. Today my feelings about his death came a little closer, clearer maybe, certainly in my face. The husband half of a husband and wife pair of choir members died yesterday. He had been ill for awhile, and his death was not unexpected. Nevertheless, my own sadness is being roiled up. Saying “I miss Joe” does not describe the feeling I carry around with me constantly. There is an emptiness that cannot be described. I am doing all — well, most — of the things that need to be done, but there is a sense of detachment, a sense of being removed from, a feeling of being not all here or missing some essential part of me. This makes it very hard to interact with others. It’s not so much that I want to talk about Joe or my grief; it’s more that I don’t have anything else in my brain to talk about. It is a real effort to hold a conversation. Somehow, that doesn’t help me be very good at socializing. I know that this will pass and not only will life go on, it will be good, but right now that doesn’t seem possible. I guess my head knows but my gut hasn’t caught up with it yet. I keep telling myself that I am ready to feel better. I guess I’m getting a little deaf as I age because I don’t seem to be hearing it. And I am damned annoyed that I can help others through their grief, but don’t seem to be able to help myself. Thank God for my wonderful therapist! She helps me get through this tumultuous time. And at the same time, I am angry that she is about to go on maternity leave. Here’s where my gut is loud and clear — **how dare she have a baby when I need her!! ** Good thing my head knows that it is okay to have irrational feelings!! The pragmatist part of me pokes through at this point and assures me that everything will work out — it always has; not always the way I wanted or expected it to work out, but somehow things work out. Now, if it would only happen yesterday . . . “God, grant me patience; and I want it right now!”
