The first week, I felt a sort of numbness, which made going through the motions, writing her obituary, setting up the funeral, and attending it somewhat unreal. The second week I kept looking at the door at the time she would normally come through it, home from a day of volunteering.
I wrote the following on August 20th, on a message board where I am a member:
This past week has been a really tough... the 14th was one month since we went home without Margret. It's hard to keep going, doing 'normal' stuff, because I keep finding things that make me cry. The first time I came home from grocery shopping after Margret died, I blubbered. Why? Because Margret would always look in all the bags to see what I had gotten, and comment on it, and put the yogurt in the fridge. The first time I put all the dishes away myself was difficult, because emptying the dishwasher was Margret's chore, and she took great pride in making sure all the silverware was arranged just so. I still have not been able to sit down and write thank you cards yet. I will get there eventually. I understand that it takes time to make my way through the grief process and get to the other side. The only way out of it is to go through it. I want to thank everyone who sent a card to her in the hospital. Know that the cards and wishes helped. I want to thank everyone who sent me a card, after, or signed Margret's guestbook. Each sentiment expressed makes the weight on my heart a little less.
I find each week brings its own challenges. Little things send me into tears. A tv show with a reference that hits a tender spot. While shifting things around in the coat closet I found myself in tears, hugging Margret's winter coat. There is a tray of greenware angel ornaments in the craft room. Margret and I picked them out so she could paint them for Christmas presents; I'm going to finish them for her, and that thought makes me cry. They may not get done for Christmas, because tears and greenware don't mix well.
Last week's episode of Grey's anatomy where Izzy keeps seeing the spectre of Denny, and the bit about unclaimed bodies set me off. The episode of Life on Mars had a little girl die; that set me off too. Little snippets of memory pop up here and there: "Please let me go," is a sad one. The excited hugs she exchanged with Aunt Peggy is a happy one. Maybe overall there is a balance, maybe a balance I can find. *sigh*
Mundane moments, transcendant moments, memory and imagination, crazy mixture. I am capable and decisive one moment, vunerable and can't make up my mind another. I have time to sort through my feelings. I'll take it.
Some days I am mostly OK. Some days I am mostly not. I keep going. I manage. I've decided I'm not going to die of a broken heart.