of self pity and pain

I am back to the old schedule of falling asleep and then waking up 5 hours later for awhile. I hope that this is the while and that I will get back to sleep in a little while -- like an hour. Julia is asleep and I am hoping that she stays this way until 7 or 8.

I wrote to a friend "Grief makes hope seem so youthful" and he picked it out of my ramblings to comment on it. I am at least knee deep in it -- grief that is. Another friend, Robin, sent me a few books, two of which were about widowhood. I was not ready to even open them before I left for vacation. One almost opened itself yesterday and I found time to sit myself down and read.

I don't really want to claim the title. Widow. Widow. My grandmother was a widow, but me? It is so final, the reverse side of married. That club no one wants to join. And it lasts forever.

There I wrote that.

Forever.

Yes, life gets better. Go through the tunnel and come out the other end. Lots of healing to do, lots of emotions to get through, but the nitty gritty is that the most important person in the world is gone and I will miss him for the rest of my life.

Should I be looking for a group?

One of the interesting things that one of the books says is about how hard it is to deal with people telling you that you are looking well (which no one is saying yet) or you are so strong and able. I get this all the time and it is very frustrating and in another way it stops conversation dead. Maybe I look strong, but all I want to say is -- this is me falling apart. Nothing about this position is strong. As I type this, I wonder if I will really be able to participate in the LEND program this year. Gosh, I so want to, but suddenly, just now, I worry if I will be able.

And I hate that I am not good company right now. I talk on the phone to Cheshire, to Lisa, I see Mary, and I have little conversation. It is as if I want to be entertained by them. I think I want to be filled up again by them. And so, stories come to an awkward end, anecdotes die mid-sentence.

And to keep myself sane, I need to constantly reach out, ask for help, say, yes to the offers. And that is exhausting now. Right now, I feel tired and weak. I don't know if I can bear to even say yes to one more person, can't bear to answer the phone. My impulse right now is to curl up and stay away from people until some healing gets done. but I know that is now wise.

And I know that I have to let myself go through this, cannot distract myself with anything until this is over. I am not numb anymore.

I did function today. I asked intelligent questions. I phones more people that I need to. I returned calls. I made small but useful decisions. Tomorrow, with luck I will do the same thing.

I hate that functioning makes me look competent and together.

I am surviving. Maybe that is the best that can be said. Maybe this is why, others who have passed through this tunnel have offered help and an ear without even knowing me well. I am feeling so sorry for myself tonight. Life as I knew it is over. Sorry for that and for myself. I don't/ didn't want that life to end. And I can't hold on to it. Even as I type, it slips further away, like dry sand through fingers, like running water.

If this is a precursor to wisdom, I don't want the wisdom. But of course, the wisdom may be the only reward at the end of this tunnel. Talking about redecorating the house is so much easier to deal with, but this ache, this now and then razor pain ripping at my soul, is what I have to come face to face with. Is this the reason for all those fairy stories where the hero/ine confronts the most fierce-some monster/villain they can imagine?

I am going to try to sleep again. After this tirade of pity and pain. After this messy wound opening. I hope to move a bit along tomorrow. That's all, not a better tomorrow, but some movement through the tunnel.