18 weeks. My daughter kindly wondered aloud this weekend when I thought I'd stop counting. I have no idea. It's kind of my nature to put things in chronological order according to major life events.
I do know that I feel a bit like Rip Van Winkle. I'm starting to wake up a bit. Life is getting a little less foggy.
I have been so blessed on this journey to have the support of family and dear friends. Indeed, I truly believe I would not have survived without them. But the reality of human nature is that life moves on. People, even those closest to you, want to see the person they love moving forward. And at work when aquaintances say, " Hey! How are you?" , most often they are greeting you and really don't want a Debbie Downer answer. I get that. And since school started, I have tried to be emotionally anonymous at work. It's a coping technique.
But I know that those feelings have to have an outlet. So I finally made an appointment with a much recommended therapist here in town. I wasn't disappointed. Her professionalism has given me a safe place to work through my grief.
And what I'm realizing, in reliving some of it with her, is that there were parts of that evening and the weeks after that I either don't remember, or I just now remember. For instance, I must have unlocked the door for the paramedics, but I have no recollection of it, nor do I remember any phone calls made that evening. It is important to recreate it, in order to be complete with it. I'm finally letting go of the fact that I could have changed the outcome, and why I thought I could. Almost. I still want to own it somehow. Mostly what I remember from the summer was not being able to breathe.
I'm starting to awaken. Now, I know what I'm ready to change, and what I'm not ready to change. For example, I spoke with a jeweler about having our rings made into a single piece of jewelry. I'm not ready for that yet. A few changes in the house decor? Ready.
I put away most of his clothes in the back closet this summer and thought I was done with that task, and then I found a trunk full of winter clothes etc. I sighed and shut it for a different day. Wasn't ready.
I'm waking up. I'm able to work through my grief in appropriate ways so that I can function in the rest of my world. I'm compartmentalizing. That's a good thing.
Starting to awaken on the journey. One day at a time.