Day 37

 Day 37

Today is day 37. One of the things (among many) I've struggled with is sleep. It doesn't matter what time I crawl into bed or what sleeping pill I take; I'm awake from 2:00 a.m.-to 4:30 every night. EVERY stinking long lonely night. I reach over to his side of the bed and lay my hand there. I lay in the dark, and my mind cycles through 18 years of memories. My soul longing to hear his voice, see his smile and hear him say, "You're my girl, you'll always be my girl", just one more time. Yet, I know "one more time" would never be enough. I still wander the house in the dark. I started that the night he died. I don't know what comfort I think I will find, but I search for it. Being joyless was such a foreign concept for me prior to losing Mark. Now, it's what I am. 

I'm a woman of deep faith. I KNOW my husband is in an amazing place. He is happy, joy-filled and restored. Grief is selfish. I want him HERE with me. 

On a rational level, I'm glad my husband didn't suffer. He had 2 tough days, and then he was gone. I did my absolute best to keep him comfortable and medicated. I pray it was enough. On an emotional level, I don't care. I want him HERE. I really didn't get the chance to say goodbye. It was all so fast. One day we were leaving for Camp Lejune to start ticking off the items on his bucket list. The next day we turned around and returned home. 3 days after that, he was gone. It was that fast. 

I have blocks of time after his death that I don't remember. "Widows Fog" is very real. Our brain's way of protecting us from too much. Too much grief, too much pain and too many tears. Sometimes, it even protects us from anger. The "Fog" isn't as thick as a month ago. I still do stupid things like turning the wrong way as I'm driving somewhere I've been a million times before, but I remember to do things I need to do. I now have a clear recall of the past week with no "black" blocks. I now remember every second of every recent day. Honestly, I'm not sure that's a good thing. 

I started dealing with the RV yesterday. Unfortunately, I couldn't obtain all the new batteries I needed. As a result,  I will have to have it towed to our RV guy. I have AAA RV coverage, so we will see how it goes. I will be dealing with that today....in the rain. Fun times. 

One of the biggest things I struggle with is that I'm here alone. No family. EVERYTHING is 100% on me. That's a huge load to carry and last week I started having periods of real anger. The RV was something I've been asking Mark to take care of for 2 YEARS. Because he didn't it's one big thing for me to deal with on top of everything else. I'm a bit pissed about it.

There are so many things to take care of when you lose a spouse. Thankfully, we had Wills, POA etc., so from a legal standpoint, I don't have too many headaches to deal with. However, the business aspect is another story. 

I have no choice but to keep the business going for a few more years. Even though right now I want nothing to do with it. I have a responsibility to our staff to keep it going. At least until I can sell it in a few years. Mark so enjoyed it. He had a morning routine 7 days a week. He would go into the shop, make sure everything was ok and greet each staff member as they came in for their shift. He enjoyed interacting with customers and their dogs. 

Prior to losing Mark, I LOVED the shop. Now it's a heavy reminder of a loss that I don't know how to survive. 

I joined a grief group. I'm self-actualized enough to know I can't walk this road alone. Unfortunately, the next session doesn't start until mid-August. Until then, I will wade through the quagmire that grief is and fight to keep my head above it. 

One thing I'd like to add. When someone loses a spouse, DON'T ask, "How are you" or "How are you doing"? When asked that question I answer "fine" or "OK" or "Minute by minute". In other words, I am LYING to protect YOU from my grief because I don't want anyone else to experience it. Seriously, how do you THINK I'm doing??? I'm NOT. I want to respond, "I just buried my husband how do you THINK I'm doing....dumbass." Of course, I don't. I protect you from my grief, "I'm fine." I understand that you care and just don't know what to say, I get it. I've been there. Instead of "How are you?" ask "What can I do" or "How can I help." The response may be "Nothing, thank you" but those questions don't cause the grief to rear up and try to smother me. Don't be afraid to call or stop by, I NEED people right now. While you may catch me at my worst (so be prepared), just come sit with me. We may not even have a lot of conversation, but your mere presence eases the grief and loneliness. I know it's not easy for you to stop by. My grief makes you face the possibility of your own potential loss in the future. I get it. I also get that time marches on and you are busy living your life. Just don't forget about me. I'm still here.