I'm calling the second anniversary of Artie's death doomsday because it's supposed to make me laugh. I'm watching myself slow down and not want to do all the things I have been doing. I didn't go to a bereavement group tonight because I wanted to tell a story at something called the MOTH. All of a sudden it seems impossible. I haven't become totally housebound. Still doing a lot of different things. It's just getting harder and harder to push myself to action unless it's necessary. Part of it is my sleeping is off again. It's hard to fall asleep and when I do - who knows what I am dreaming or nightmaring. I know this is normal. Those dates are difficult whether you pay attention to them or not. My get up and go got up and went.
It's so weird to me when I look at an e-mail and think - I can't answer that right now. I did have to go down to the editing studio again - and did that early this morning. Going to dinner and theater with a friend tomorrow night. Life goes on and all that.
People try to cheer me up. Some of them. They tell me all the great stuff I've done since Artie died. I have. They tell me how wonderful and powerful I am. Wonderful sometimes, not very powerful right now.
I know a lot of people love Artie and miss him - but I don't think anyone else cares about doomsday. What does the anniversary of his death mean? He's dead every day. Yet as I watch things fall apart around me I know for me it's like he's dying all over again. What? He hasn't come back yet? He's never coming back? I've known that for almost two years but sometimes my body and my heart can't absorb it. How can it be that I'll never see that face again, that I'll never hear that voice again. My love hasn't faded one bit. I don't cry like I did when he died. But that old frozen feeling is coming back. It's hot humid NY and I am sweating outside and freezing inside.
How lucky is it that I'm going to Majorca at the beginning of July. I don't care. I'd rather be in bed. Someone on a Facebook site said that people who don't persist don't deserve to be happy. What a cruel thing to say. Some days I can persist and make things happen for myself - some days a feather is to heavy to lift. That's the way grief is for me.
I am going to go out - and get a present for someone who had a baby a couple of months ago. A little walk will be good. All these books and blogs and positive thinkers and techniques and CDs and darn, I'm just plain sad anyway. Not all the time. I won't make the mistake of saying all the time.
I'm thinking that maybe I can't use Artie as material for stories anymore. Like in the editing room - he is so vividly alive and says such funny and loving things - but there is no way to pull him out from behind the glass. I don't even know if I said that before. I never read my previous posts. Some people say I should write a book - I probably have the bones of one if I put all the posts together. I wonder what the first one said. Maybe I'll look at it one of these days.
I want to join the party on the other side. The side where my husband lives. I want to stay alive and meet my first grandchild and love it and play with it (don't know the sex yet - soon it will turn into a him or a her in my mind). I want to be there for my daughter. I want to spend time with my friends. I want to just be dead and be with Artie in whatever form we'll be in. It's all such a muddle!
I want to write - oh how lovely everything is - it's almost doomsday and I feel so wonderful. Everything I've done has worked and poof - I'm all better now. I want you all to feel happy and joyous - and yet when I read something from someone who says that they are totally happy - I don't believe them! I miss Artie so much I can see being happy - but not all the time. Even if I remarried I can't imagine not feeling lonely with Artie far away. He said it again - ye of little faith - I'm right here with you - holding you - protecting you - trying to soothe you. Maybe he is. I don't know how to be comforted by a dead person. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.
This is one of those days I wish anyone who reads this post is doing MUCH MUCH better than I am. Tra la la. I have time over the weekend - maybe I will write something that is cute and jolly - or maybe I will still be tumbling down the mountainside. Thank you all for being there on this strange journey - stranger still that I am taking it in public instead of in private. xo
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