Time for a few blog posts. First, this one, the deep, emotional update that surely none of you have been craving! And then the goings on that will go on as the next week goes on. So if you aren't up for pearl clutching teary hand wringing, come back in a couple of days.
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| We're gettin' the band back together! |
Savvy readers will recall that last year, some 6 weeks after losing the Quad Queen, I dealt with the emotional minefield of the Christmas season by going to Vegas and completely avoiding it.
I ended up working through a lot of grief as I revisited all the places in Vegas we loved.
This year, I feel strong/stupid enough to face it head on by having Christmas with family back in Ontario. I wrestled with this decision for weeks and weeks. I know it's going to be difficult but...
...but there are not one, not two, but three great nephews there, all still believers in Santa. And everyone knows that kids make Christmas.
If you know anything about me you know that I'm practical, emotional, and cranky.
I fly in on the 23rd of December, and fly out on the 26th of December. No matter how many emo-mines go off, surely I can stand it for three nights.
It's been roughly two months since I last posted and for those that are interested, it's only fair to give you an update. As a grieving widower (did I just say that out loud?) the blog has served to help me crystalize my thoughts so that all y'all can make sense of it.
And I am in my head so very much these days, weeks, and months - writing about things kind of forces me to take an outsider's perspective, trying to figure out how to summarize what is a deeply complex process. It helps things gel and then maybe I can move forward?
Because... this has been a very rough couple of months. I kind of think I know why.
Last year, my time in Florida was spent coping with the myriad of things that needed to - had to be - done. And I took on a huge painting project to keep me busy when I wasn't doing those things. I managed to play in the band and all too soon it was time to go home and prepare for Karen's memorial.
And I really didn't go to our places, or do the kinds of things we did together. I just coped.
This year, I'm trying to live more of a normal life - and I'm doing the things, and going to the places that prior to the maelstrom of ALS we did together, as part of living the dream we'd had for retirement.
So many times this fall I have remembered the high hopes we had for this place, the plans, the first weeks here looking for furniture and learning the ropes. All that was dashed to the ground, and the lost Jacaranda tree is the poignant symbol of the way our lives were torn asunder.
And the first few weeks here, I had to get through all the anniversaries of Karen's last days. And her birthday.
I have a theory for which Divana planted the seed - that on an anniversary, there are ripples and echoes of whatever events good or bad happened on that day, because we are at the same place physically, in a sense, in the earth's orbit around the sun. We're back there again, and the vibrations of loss are felt anew.
As I went through this time in November and into December, it seemed like I hadn't gotten any further in coping with my loss. It's been over a year.
And the nightmares that plagued me last spring returned. (They've since diminished.)
I know there's no timeline for this, and everybody's experience is different, and there's no right or wrong about it - but I've been hurting. And I've been debilitated. It was like I went through the year, managed to keep my head above water, do all the things, and now... I was a mess again.
Well, I suppose that the motions of living life here again, as mentioned above, are triggering new areas of grief.
Additionally, for a couple of weeks I didn't get enough light. The days get short even here at the Greacey Palms this time of year, and I am susceptible to Seasonal Affective Disorder - which is one of the reasons I'm here in the first place.
Pop a couple of extra doses of Wellbutrin, get out in the sunshine, find something to do between band practices, and keep moving. Make tacos.
There came a time a few weeks ago when dealing with all this that I had the idea of deciding arbitrarily that I've cried enough and now it's time to stop. I mean, it's been firehoses ever since Chippy died in June of 2022, co-incident with the start of Karen's disease.
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| Larry, who I dogsat last summer, says Hello and that he's doing fine. |
It kind of worked for a while, 10 days or so. I had one really bad episode and since then, there's been more sun, the band is starting to come together (right now, over me), and I have a trip to look forward to.
Flushiepants has a very high EQ - I know that when it's necessary to grieve, one should do it. And I do, and will, but one can also let it get away like a runaway freight train. It can become it's own thing, and that's when it's time to reasonably try to put a lid on it.
Unfortunately, I've dropped the weight training routine. Not smart. I plan to restart in the New Year.
Fortunately, I've continued to eat in a fairly healthy manner and I've even hit a few new low weights recently - I'm down just over 15 pounds from last April.
Fuck me, life is hard. And yet. I still have so many lucky things in my life.
People that care about me. A place to escape the snow in winter. 44 years of memories with the most wonderful person I'll ever know. Monthly Old Age Security payments! (Have I been at this blog that long??!!)
And a 2003 Club Car Antichrist that can pop wheelies and catch air on its two shiny new lithium batteries!
Next up... my trip to Ontario. Can I take it? Will I blubber and snot my way through all 3 days? Will I rise to the occasion and carve the roast beast? I hope you'll follow along, there are bound to be hijinks and surprises.
Signing off from my Floridian paradise - till next time!
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| Keep it classy, Florida! |
I'm glad you will see family over the holidays. That will help a lot. The first year of losing your spouse is called Widow's fog. You just put one foot in front of the other and walk through the mist. While in this fog you don't see too far ahead, and you focus on staying upright for the most part. Year two (when most people assume it will get easier) is when the secondary losses hit. All the plans, dreams, goals, need to be redone because half of the team is missing. you get to make all the choices and do all the work because you've lost half the staff!! Each year will get easier for you, I won't say better because that would be a lie. Know that some of us walk along with you. Losing your partner is life is difficult to understand until it happens to you. ((hugs)) and Happy Holidays to you.
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