Thanks again for everyone's continued patience with me. Maybe I'll just blather here for a while and, if you feel like commenting, that's great... but, whatever...
There are no good days, although there may be bright spots in an otherwise awful day. Just about everything makes me cry. Anything can remind me of Eric, in a random moment, sometimes unexplainable, and I just can't hold it in... nor do I want to. At first I thought there were a finite number of tears and I would cry myself out, but it's become apparent they are unlimited, a bottomless well.
It's awful that we are still dealing with logistical issues (believe it or not, we only *just* received the death certificates today), which means I have multiple people/businesses to mail them to.
Yes to countless ups and downs but... Nothing. Like. This. This is big. This is incomprehensible. This is ongoing. This is forever. The part of my life that is Not Eric is detritus. I do not care. I cannot think about anything else right now. I'm still not reading. TV holds no interest for me. Food seesaws between styrofoam and a means to keep me from blood sugar drops. I cannot concentrate on anything. My vocabulary/memory is all but gone.
I am angry. I am taking everything personally. I am still in Denial... yet, when I read the Accident Report or the funeral home invoice, it is In-My-Face Real.
Chico and I went looking for, and found, a box of DVDs of moments captured when we finally got a camcorder (Winter 2001; we were very late to the game). We stopped time earlier today and watched a few (they're each about an hour), and we laughed and cried at the family dynamic, mostly our road trips to Atlanta, etc. for the Christmas holidays, another with all the kids' Santa visits spliced together (Perimeter Mall; thanks, Aunt Mari!). Chico filmed my *ss a lot (ha!), but the footage of the kids is priceless. We have decided we will take a few to my sister's house for Thanksgiving. Healing or hurting? Both/And.
I am currently trying to find the fine line between tiptoeing-out-into-the-world adventurer and nightgowned-and-fuzzy-socked hermit. Sarah and I did make it to Rob's roommate's Halloween party last night and I basically wanted to leave as soon as I got there. The music was too loud, the menu was meat-centric, and most people got very drunk very quickly. Wearing my Mother Nature costume (the idea borrowed from Roxanne a bazillion years ago) for the first time in a while, I felt pretty (it's amazing what some lip gloss will do)... but I also felt as if I was having an out-of-body experience rather than being in-the-moment.
I am trying so hard to be Present; the Past leaves me stuck at the September 26 8:30 p.m. Line of Demarcation when E's proverbial David Copperfield tablecloth is yanked out from under the dishes... and the Future will forever be missing a chess piece that I took for granted would always be there (yep, mixed metaphors).
I need to say his name. I say it a lot, because it keeps him front-and-center in my heart and mind. Thanksgiving will be unbearable. I believe December will be easier because 2022 was his first Christmas*not* with us, because Eric spent it with Duyen's family in a North Carolina cabin.
So, I'm really just a mess masquerading as a wife/mother/family member/friend/citizen of the world; I speak in soliloquys of heaving sobs and brain blips, reading messages into random occurrences that may not mean anything, but that I'm desperate to believe (rainbows and owls and synchronistic songs, oh my).
How does this happen? Why did this happen? (rhetorical questions both). Walking and breathing and speaking will be a conscious effort for a very long time... 😖
POEM(S): Watching My Friend Pretend Her Heart Isn’t Breaking by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
On Earth, just a teaspoon of neutron star
would weigh six billion tons. Six billion tons.
The equivalent weight of how much railway
it would take to get a third of the way to the sun.
It’s the collective weight of every animal
on earth. Times three.
Six billion tons sounds impossible
until I consider how it is to swallow grief—
just a teaspoon and one might as well have consumed
a neutron star. How dense it is,
how it carries inside it the memory of collapse.
How difficult it is to move then.
How impossible to believe that anything
could lift that weight.
There are many reasons to treat each other
with great tenderness. One is
the sheer miracle that we are here together
on a planet surrounded by dying stars.
One is that we cannot see what
anyone else has swallowed.
Helium by Rudy Francisco
When people ask how I’m doing I want to say,
my depression is an angry deity,
a jealous god
a thirsty shadow that wrings my joy like a dishrag
and makes juice out of my smile.
I want to say, getting out of bed has become a magic trick.
I am probably the worst magician I know.
I want to say, this sadness is the only clean shirt I have left
and my washing machine has been broken for months,
but I’d rather not ruin someone’s day with my tragic honesty
so instead I treat my face like a pumpkin.
I pretend that it’s Halloween.
I carve it into something acceptable.
I laugh and I say, “I’m doing alright.”
QUOTE(S): "Sometimes, carrying on, just carrying on, is the superhuman achievement." ~ Albert Camus
"Forevers are composed of nows." ~ Emily Dickinson
“It is indeed a radical act of love just to sit down and be quiet for a time by yourself.” ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn
