Monday, June 24, 2013
There is a book out there somewhere called, Crazy Times, that I read many years ago while going through a divorce. I don't remember the book's content per se, but I've never forgotten the title.
How appropo for my feelings and reflections.
Yesterday, the one week anniversary of that horrifying evening, was more difficult than I had anticipated. I dragged out papers to try to make sense of insurance issues, and realized that it was a waste of time because it was Sunday. Somehow I believed that the Church Pension Fund should be open and waiting for my call, regardless of day or time.
I was so amazed yesterday that life was really continuing to move on. The churches opened their doors and had services and people laughed and prayed and smiled. Don't they know that Glenn is dead?
There were jobs and lives for my family to return to, and my mother still needed to be sprung from the nursing home where she has been doing therapy. I went to her apartment in the afternoon to prepare for the move today, and felt such anger and confusion. I always envisioned closing her apartment because she had died-I kept having to remember as I was packing that it wasn't her who was dead, it was Glenn.
I put his laundry away, with a kiss, I know he is gone, I really do, but I need to fold and hang. I have started to put it in one place for later when I'm ready. I gathered his shoes and put them in the armoir, touching them lovingly. I get that there will be time for that. I'm okay with knowing he won't wear them again.. But, I don't know what to do with the whiskers on the counter, where he trimmed his goatee on Sunday morning, or the razor still perched on the sink, or the towel hanging by the shower.
Right now, the unanswerable question for me is, "How are you?"
"Fine", "Okay", "Hanging in"...none seem like the descriptor of how I'm feeling. So mostly I just give a shrug and a nod. And sometimes I say, "Crazy Times."