I’ve Lost My Balance

In the past few weeks the world has become both smaller and larger.

My own little everyday world has shrunk by half. The demands of keeping everything running smoothly have become simpler.  I don’t have anyone to feed, I just eat when I can. I don’t have enough laundry to worry about sorting it. The clutter around the house has been frozen in time. Many of the things left out a few weeks ago, waiting to find a place, are still waiting. Some of this clutter will be acted upon, saved, filed, other things will never their intended use here. Maybe someone else will find use for these little things, maybe they won’t. I don’t know yet.

Everything outside my door has become bigger by two, maybe more.  I’ve always been independent, have taken care of my own things and my own business, but it was good to know I had some back-up when I needed it. My friends and family are there, but it’s not the same. It’s not their job to take care of me, I’m not supposed to be the person taken into account about the decisions they, or I, make.

The best definition I have ever heard of marriage was that it is an institution that makes you take another person into account in every decision. I was comfortable in that, I didn’t see it as limiting. I saw it as the opportunity to take advantage of another viewpoint, another set of skills, the wealth of another experience. David and I were very much alike, but our thought processes were very different. He was more mechanical, logical, a gatherer of all essential pieces before beginning. I tend to run a lot more on emotion, passion and anger. He kept me out of a lot of trouble and I pushed him toward things he might not have done.

I find myself asking myself what he would have done a lot lately. I usually think I know, but I can’t be sure.

I know I’m going to lose my balance and crash now when I wouldn’t before in some situations. It frightens me.

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I’m Not Strong

I’m not strong, I do probably look that way, but it’s an unintentional front. I am gutted, sad, screaming inside. I want my David back. I want to punch the fucking Universe in the face. I cannot fathom that my poor sweet husband had to go through that, he deserved better.

David wasn’t done. He still had so many things he wanted to do. I cry not just for the things we would do together, but the things he would achieve, the things he would make, the stuff he would make work. I cry for the beautiful days he won’t see and the good meals he won’t eat.

Losing him seems to be much too much about me and not nearly enough about him sometimes.

Make no mistake this is about David.

My sweet, smart, curious, and ambitious David.

I’m a Viking, but work is kind of slow these days…..

As I deal with all this damn loss, convinced that the universe is not out to kill me, but something much worse, like a life sentence in solitary confinement, I think of all the years that will come. How long my sentence will be without David, I can’t know, but there it is stretching out in front of me. I’m going to have to do something.

As many of you know, on all aptitude tests, I score very highly as an axe wielding Viking warrior. I do plan to continue my efforts to assemble a horde, but it is, as always, problematic. The coasts of Europe are much better defended these days, and lets face it, most of the countries are broke. Recruiting and exposition costs could far exceed return on pillage. I’ll leave that as a long term goal.

Cat lady is also a possibility. I’d have very low start-up costs. I’ve got the creepy old house on the edge of town, four cats to start with, and let’s face it, I’m a widow. If my town has an opening, my resume will make me a shoe-in. I’ll keep my eye on the local paper for openings, but it’s one of those positions that people keep for life and God only knows how many people already have dibs. I’m not interested in relocating, so this may never happen for me.

I’m thinking I’ll probably just do my best to carry on as I have. Writing, school again in the Fall, finish what I started, then worry about the cushy jobs. There are things out there I need to finish, work that I still feel needs to be done, none of that has changed. It just feels different, satisfying, but not like before. When I achieve something, I won’t get the hug and the words, “I’m proud of you.” from the person that it means the most from. Not physically anyway. That will be bittersweet at best.

Right now, getting through this blog post is difficult. My ability to concentrate has taken a dive from it’s normal low. I’ve been told to expect this along with confusion, forgetfulness, and a general feeling of “wrongness”, and that’s on a good day. As far as I can tell, I’m typical . So forgive me my ramblings.

 

 

I Got a Package Yesterday

Mail gets interesting when someone dies. Along with the same old shit, credit card offers, sale flyers, bills, etc., you get a lot of cards (those are nice) and occasionally a package.  I got a package registered mail. I did the clumsy, don’t let the cat out while you and the mailman fumble with the signature cards and the rest of the mail, and was handed a well wrapped, very heavy, shoebox size  package.

David had come home. He was never gone long and I knew he’d find his way back. I just wish he was in better shape. But then he hadn’t been in very good shape when last I saw him and this new circumstance is probably better.

He looked very much alive until he died, then he looked very dead. It is amazing how someone can so obviously be there with you, and then suddenly gone. There is a big difference between close to death and dead.

We were told a few minutes before he died that death was approaching, but he still breathed, his face had color, and his eyes still followed me around the room even through the morphine. I combed his hair, his scalp was still warm, I held his hand, cooler than usual, but still his hand. Then he was gone. He got so cold, so fast. His face relaxed and he looked more like my David, but his hand held no more comfort, it wasn’t his anymore. He finally lost the color in his face, I kissed him one last time and said good-bye.

I signed the papers, gave the info for the death certificate and had him sent to the funeral home. I didn’t see him again until he arrived yesterday.

I’ll bury that box soon. Right now I’m thinking I’ll throw in the Swiss Army knife he always carried and some quarters so he can get a soda. That’s what he always had to have when he left the house. He always had a bad day when he forgot either of those items.

God, I miss him.