The obsession to write this whole experience down seems to have passed, at least for a while. I'm not sure what that's all about. Even tonight I wanted to write, but it's going to be a bad, perfunctory recording of a few thoughts. The deep processing I had been doing before is not coming easily right now.
As the days pass, I feel less tortured about the specifics of Chris's decline and death. This is a good thing. I do believe that writing helped work through some of that. Also, many kind friends have reached out after reading and your support has also helped to process what happened. I still don't like to revisit the memories of his last day, but I have allowed myself to remember how Chris communicated with me even when he couldn't talk. He slowly winked his good eye several times that day and by doing so, for sure he was sending me his love. Even though I didn't know at the time it was the last day and I'll never know if he knew it for sure, Chris took every opportunity to convey his love to me. I have a lot more peace about that now. He was loving and forgiving of me always. That day may be something that I need to struggle with from time to time, but I will remember how Chris winked and know what that meant.
Every day that passes takes us farther away from acute trauma, and also from Chris. That last fact is excruciating. I miss him so very much. The sadness is pervasive and sometimes overwhelming. Some days are really, really bad. Not long ago I woke up with a terrible cold and needed to get through grocery shopping, homework supervision, and cooking alone. It was not the end of the world but being tired and sick brought desolation home to roost. Nothing could stop the waterworks. In the last few weeks I have spent time with several really great couples, and I have some thoughts marinating about marriage and what I miss deeply about being married to Chris. Nothing is coherent enough to articulate yet. I cannot believe he is gone, that our marriage is over. It's just too painful to put into words beyond that right now.
To be fair, I have been doing a lot of things and taking a lot of steps. I think I am functioning quite well given the circumstances. Things are under control.
I have had to take many steps to sort through taxes, assets, and legal dealings. With coaching from key friends with good recommendations, I've got a team assembled that seems to now be populated with competent and helpful people. I feel good about my approach to dealing with these unpleasant things and my ability to get on the phone to straighten things out. I've given up anticipating everything and instead just scrutinized the credit card statement to find the things I didn't even know Chris took care of, things like auto-renewing Amazon prime, an Angie's List subscription, and anti-virus software. These are steps that I am proud of.
In a more interesting category, there's the big step of searching for a dog. The good news is that Phoenix is the one! We made it through the rescue agency's interview and home screen process, met her, and she will be ours on Thursday. While it will be a crazy amount of work for me, I'm sure it will be distracting and that's probably going to be helpful. The kids and I will certainly benefit from puppy kisses and play. Becoming a dog family will be quite a change. Once again it's a sign of Chris being gone, but I know he would be happy that we are working toward bringing more happiness to our home. As N said, it's the worst possible reason to be doing the best possible thing. It's a step that the three of us are taking as a reduced unit, and I know we need to be taking healthy forward steps as a trio. We can't always be looking back or just running in place. This should be good!
I have continued to take several steps to help myself integrate the loss of Chris. Mostly I focus on self-care. Walking with friends, discovering new conservation areas, and running are my mainline strategies. I know that I need interactions with others who are in a similar boat, and I've been pushing myself to reach out to various resources. There are several online support groups and I joined one. There's the Widowed Parent Podcast discussion group that I mentioned before; I have connected with a few folks on social media and get a lot out of it. A few friends have asked me whether I would like to be connected with other widowed parents and spouses of seriously ill parents, and I have been saying yes even as the introvert in me would like to say no. Without fail, I am not sorry when I say yes and have conversations with these strangers. I have communicated with several people who have been amazingly kind and supportive!
I carefully consider options for helping the kids take steps to integrate their loss. They are doing well for the most part. They really are great kids. Chris would be so proud of them, and he would be enjoying them as I am (mostly, ha ha). Still, the gravity of their loss is not something to take lightly. So, tonight the kids and I took a big step by starting a family bereavement support group. We have agreed to give it three solid tries before either committing to more or pulling out. The structure is such that everyone starts together as a large group and candles are lit for the people who have died. Then kids meet/play with other kids at roughly their ages while parents talk with parents. At the end, everyone comes together again to put the candles out before leaving. There is a focus on confidentiality and respecting the right to not share during group time. Apparently things went well for the kids. I appreciated my time with other widowed parents and learned from the things they chose to share. It was hard, though. Everyone was much farther out than me which I did expect. My feelings were complicated in ways I did not expect. Everyone was very kind, but the group experience put it in my face that this is not going away. I started imagining two years, four years, five years from now. This is permanent. I don't like that one bit. I have a long way to go toward true acceptance...
Collectively my steps bring forth new realizations, some of which I'm not ready for. I'm seeing that there is time to sit with the discomfort of the situation. Life will keep moving along but the pace and focus is different. Consciously applying the brakes and riding them for a good long while can be good, but being open to nudges can also be good. Phoenix will be one giant leap!
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