Monday, January 07, 2013

Still reeling.

I'm home from work today. I would've taken a full on sick day, but things are a little hectic so I didn't have that luxury. Luckily my team is understanding and let me at least work from home. I just didn't want to run the risk of bursting into tears in front of everyone at the office. I have a manly-man image to uphold!*

I woke up this morning at 5:30 a.m. and started to go downstairs until I realized I didn't have to. There was no one down there that had to go outside to go to the bathroom. When I got up from my computer at lunch to grab a glass of water I carried my plate with my food on it with me, and then realized I could leave it on the table because no one was going to jump up and gobble it up!

And while I threw out a lot of Betty's old bedding, the stuff that was just really unsalvageable after years of use, we still have her big pillow and favorite blanket in the corner of the family room. I don't know when we'll be able to finally move that. A little piece of me hopes the cats adopt it as their own so I don't have to. Because once that's gone, there's no clear sign of Betty outside photos on the wall and our bookshelves. And the scratches on our coffee table. Hee.

And then there's the weirdness of social media. the support of friends, family and even barely known acquaintances has been awesome. But I'm afraid of coming across as whiny if I keep posting about Betty on Facebook. Or Twitter. Or Instagram. And at the same time, even though I know I have to maintain my activity in those spaces I worry that jokes I tell or links I share will give people the impression I'm over my grieving and everything is hunky-dory  Or even worse that I didn't care that much in the first place and just move on quickly. Grieving is weird in this day and age. Emotions take a long time to process but the conversation everywhere else just keeps zooming along.

Man, fourteen years is a long time to spend with anyone. I know you can't just jump out of that right away. And I don't want to. But I do want it to stop hurting so much.

*Yeah, right.


P. Griffin Baron said...

I remember having to write a note like this a few years ago when we lost Damon to his heart murmur. The best thing to realize is that no matter what, you know that Betty knew you loved her and that she loved you. There will forever be those little things that'll remind you of her and they'll grow into things you smile about later on. Those scratches on the coffee table will turn into, "aww, remember when she did this?"

If it helps, feel free to read what I wrote about Damon the morning he passed. It's helped me out for a while. I'm sure writing this blog helped too.

Tankboy said...

Thanks Griff.