It’s Monday night. After a long holiday weekend, and a single day of work, I’m off for a week. Sarah and I are traveling to Texas tomorrow, to meet with her friends and family and celebrate the memory of Drew, as they’ve done yearly since his death.
The loose ends are tied up at work. Our bags are packed and we’re into the impatient “waiting game” that comes before any longer trip getting started. I wish we could just leave right now. Visions of the beach, and lounging beside the pool seem like they’ll take forever to become reality.
Aaaaaand my chest is tight. I’m uncomfortably nervous and anxious. Something just feels...well…”off”.
For the past week, maybe two, I have been in a complete and total funk. There hasn’t been any specific trigger. No anniversaries, birthdays, significant dates to remember, or big “firsts without Megan” that have occurred. It is the same as always...I wish she were here and I miss her, but the grief of losing her is not overpowering. I can still accomplish day to day functions.
Shelby gets to school, I get to work on time, homework is done, dishes are washed, and dinner is eaten nightly. The cars aren’t falling apart and the lawn is mowed. I even put in an entire flower/ vegetable garden this past weekend. Looking in from the outside, you would never know that I was a widower. Everything is in order, and I present a neat and happy appearance.
But internally, something is up.Read more