Some days

Sometimes I just can't get over what work it is to miss people and to try to figure out one's place in the world when so many loved ones are gone... 

Some days I pretty much breeze through the day...just doing regular things and feeling pretty good.

Some days are full of good friends and good family and moments with those good people.

Some days I think about how this life turned out this way and how, if I had been directing the play, I would've made the ending to a few parts of this story quite a bit different. 

Some days I feel very thankful for so many blessings that have come along the way.

And some days -- or even some parts of some days -- are just plain sad.

Sometimes I wish there wasn't so much silence in my mornings and evenings. 

And, sometimes I think about people who have traveled this road before me and I think about how I had no clue what they might've been feeling after their loss(es). I technically still don't really know, but I think I have an inkling now.

I wonder, sometimes, what my future looks like? Do I have 30 more years here? How do I do 30 more years without those I'm missing? Will I feel less strongly in a few years than I do now?  When do I stop feeling incapable of completing projects? When do I jump into creative things? When can I concentrate enough to finish a whole book without distractions in my brain? When do I get to the point where I am available to friends who are going through hard times? When do I stop thinking about me?

Sometimes I want to fight and yell and scream and change the story back to the way I imagined it years ago... And then I snap out of that fantasy and have to accept what is...against my will.

I don't like missing people I love. 

I just don't.

Recently, I received an envelope full of newsletter + pamphlet on grieving from an organization that I know of and I just wanna say... 

I know that the people who send those things are trying to help me through my grief. They mean well and they want me to heal and feel better again... I totally get it and I respect their calling to help others through grief... Because grief is hard. 

But I'm just gonna say it: when I see those things -- that I KNOW are meant to help me and are sent with concern -- the first feeling I have is anger. 

I don't want to read any information about grief. I don't want to hear that anybody else has cancer. I don't want to volunteer to walk or ride or skip or jump or whatever to raise money to save lives of those with cancer... I've had enough cancer for a while...

Someday, I might want to jump back into fundraising and cancer support. Someday I may be the one who sends out the newsletter to the grieving community.

But for now... I don't want to have lessons on how to grieve better or participate in anything that relates to cancer.

I just want to get through (what seems to be interminable) grieving for all the ones I've lost over the past eight years... 

I mean no harm... but I don't want any lessons right now...

That's all... 

I've been struggling for quite some time to try and describe what's happening inside of me. I've started THREE posts and deleted them all... It's hard to explain what's happening, but here is my attempt.

A widow's perspective so far:

I don't like the word "widow."

I don't like eating my dinners in front of the tv every night... Though I do enjoy some mindless-no-puppy-supervision-activity.

I miss having my family here even though you heard me complain for YEARS how much I love alone time. I DO love alone time...but I think I've had enough for now... until I'm ready for more.

I miss having a best friend who lives here who can listen to me wail and cry and yell and complain... and laugh and dance and be silly and eat fun food and watch tv with me...

I miss being able to discuss financial decisions (which I feel overly inadequate to handle) and house decisions and family plans with that best friend.

It is almost inconceivable that I will never again in this lifetime ever see my husband again.

And, I am SO thankful that he is no longer sick. SO thankful that he no longer has to endure pain or chemo or anything crappy at all.

I want him to meet Clementine.

I want him to rejoice at all the things his daughters are doing.

I want him to go camping with us on Father's Day this year.

I want to hear him complain about a cold or a headache that he doesn't feel like doing anything about...

I want to hear that STUPID guitar playing RIGHT IN MY EAR when I'm trying to concentrate on something else.

I want him to sit with me in the kitchen while i fix dinner.

I want him to wrestle with Raney in the family room while I'm trying to watch stupid tv.

I want to have his legs twitch in the bed while I'm trying to go to sleep..

And, I want to wake up with him next to me in the morning...

I KNOW I will get through this... I KNOW that it's "making me stronger"

But I don't actually want to be strong.

I want Harvey here...