Well so far, 2015 is not going as planned, as I came down with a yucky head cold on New Years Day and have spent the past few days in bed, wishing Dan were here to fuss over me.Read more
I reached a crisis point in my grief late last week. It was as if all the agony and devastation that lingers right under my skin suddenly became the surface of my skin and I felt like a wild animal that howls its' pain to the night skies.
It didn't help that I'd been ill for almost a week, a vicious flu that tore up my body in every way possible. Those moments of physical illness, of course, only exacerbate our alone-ness. It came with a headache and vomiting and fever, chills, sweats...the whole shebang. Chuck was so good at taking care of me whenever I'd get ill. Which wasn't often, thank goodness, but I could count on him always. And this time I was alone (in that I was without him). Fortunately our son is nearby and he immediately came to lend assistance and support to me.
In exactly one week, Friday, June 13th, it will be one month from the 3-year anniversary of my husband's sudden death. It feels different somehow to me this year, even though the actual day or month is not here yet. First of all, on the first two death anniversaries, I spent them both staying at my parent's house, with my family. We did a big dinner in his honor with all his favorite foods, and whoever could come to that came and it was nice. This year, I will be in San Diego, at Camp Widow, performing my comedic presentation for the 4th time. The day of his death just happens to fall on the Sunday that is the last day of camp. Although I'm not positive what it will be like to be there instead of with my family on that day, I'm guessing it will be a very good thing. After all, every single person there "gets it," and what better place to be if I'm going to have an epic breakdown of 54,000 emotions? And really, even though I won't technically be with my family on that day, I will be with my family. My other family. My widowed family.Read more
I have been on my back for the last 3 weeks or so, nursing an inflamed sacroiliac joint. What a pain! Literally. Every turn and twist, every journey to the bathroom (all of 25 painful feet) and every trek to the kitchen elicits mild and not-so-mild expletives. Thankfully, my daughter is in school and the walls are my only witness.
Of course, lots of time on one's back allows for insights, welcome or unwelcome. I do wish these marvelous insights would happen when I was licking, say, a large, double chocolate ice cream cone instead of lying supine on an ice pack.
But no, my insights seem to come to me when I have finally over-done something or other (stacking wood, mowing the lawn... talking...) and have no choice but to cry "uncle" and finally settle down to listen to my body's teachings.
I am typing away this morning with a winter cold. Runny nose, coughing fits, watery eyes, achy body...the whole package. Overall, I feel pretty miserable. Whenever I am sick, I am reminded of my mom bringing me soup and hot tea as a child. Sometimes my mind wanders to the way I care for my own children when they are sick (I am famous for a concoction called sickness tea), but often my heart aches with the desire to have a special someone that cares about exactly how bad my cough is, nags me to go to the doctor, or allows use of his lap as a pillow for watching movies or taking an afternoon nap. I can really gear myself up for a self-pity session when a winter virus takes hold.Read more