Monday, November 8, 2010

Grief Attack

Romania was interesting.  Our guide was a lovely man and we made each other laugh a lot.  I was totally uncomfortable out of my space.  I know my husband Artie is not in his clothes or his pictures or even his ashes.  I keep thinking I wish his ashes were like freeze dried coffee - just add water and there he is again.  My daugher (36) said I was mean to her.  I probably was.  I can't handle fighting.  I didn't write yesterday because I have been trying to combine the positive with the sadness when I write but then today I thought - well, that's not being honest.  The last night of the trip in Bucharest I was in this weird hotel room where the window was locked.  I love fresh air and I could get it opened by calling security and signing a paper. I need to make this note before I continue - sometimes I think about killing myself but it is a thought not an action.  You don't need to worry that I will carry it out. I won't.  After my daughter and I fought she went down to eat by herself and I opened the window.  I thought about jumping out - then I thought about how much it would hurt - and I might live and wind up in a Romanian hospital paralyzed or something - and my daughter would think it was her fault.  It wouldn't be her fault.  I am sad without my husband.  All the time.  I do lots of good things and have fun times but underneath there always seems to be this bottomless well of sadness.  My daughter and I, of course, made up - and I am still going to spend Thanksgiving with her in Seattle.

When I got home there was no love note on the door and of course Artie wasn't here to enthusiastically greet me.  No big hugs and kisses.  I wandered around like a lost puppy and started crying.  Do lost puppies cry or am I mixing metaphors terribly?  I cancelled things two days in a row.  On Sunday the NY Marathon went right by my window.  All those amazing folks in wheelchairs.  I usually wonder at them and think any problem I have is small.  Yesterday I couldn't climb out of the well of sadness.  I read and cried and tried to imagine my life going on every day without Artie being alive. I should have written about it yesterday.  If my sadness wants to speak out - if my grief wants attention - isn't that what this blog is about? I don't have to be happy all of the time.  I don't have hide my grief like it is something to be ashamed of. I can be real.  I can express my feelings without judging them.

Today I am up and writing and doing things and do plan to go out to my Monday night storytelling venue.  I am trying to think of a story if I get chosen that doesn't involve Artie.  It feels too raw right now to talk about him.  I don't want to unpack or clean. 

I think of all of us who have lost the ones we love.  The world is so full of people and feels so empty without that one dear face.  I know Artie is with me and trying to protect me from all this pain.  I know he is nudging me to get out into the world and find my sense of humor which seems to have skittered off somewhere.  I feel badly that I told my daughter I was thinking of jumping out of the window.  I told her that I didn't know if I wanted to spend Thanksgiving with her.  I hate that sometimes my grief is ugly and makes me hurt the person I love most in this world now that Artie is gone.  I wish I could be a happy mom that she doesn't have to worry about.  Sometimes I act like one - but when I am having happy moments people think that my sadness is gone.  That irritates me.  I want them to accept that I can be happy and sad at the same time.

Sometimes it seems like there is no comfort anymore.  It is grey and cold outside.  I like that because I feel grey and cold inside. 

The weirdest thing after being in Transylvania is that I have two bug bites on my neck - hopefully bug bites!! 

Anyway - tonight I have a massage with a woman with a lovely dark sense of humor who always makes me laugh.  I hope that whoever reads this is having a happier day than I am.  I guess the thing is to keep going.  Artie always said that no matter how you feel you never give up.  I wish he was here to help me with all things he helped me with.  I even wish he was here to fight with over the things he didn't help me with!! 

One of my favorite British actors is in a play in London so I am going for 4 days after Thanksgiving - maybe the second time coming home after being out of the country will be easier than the first.  Where art thou my vagabond soul?   xo

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