The most bizarre thing happened last night. I was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of loud crying, accompanied by hot tears. To my surprise, I realized I was the one sobbing. It was kind of like an out of body experience because, judging by the dampness of my pillow, I'd been crying for a while. I can think of two reasons for this. One, there must be more pain then I am aware of trying to make its way out of my heart. Or, two, there is a heck of a lot of hydrocodone in the prescribed cough syrup that I may have taken a wee bit too much of before bedtime.
I'd like to think I'm doing OK most of the time, but then the little reality checks come creeping in. Like the lady who cut my hair recently who told me that I was losing a lot of hair. Or the sudden cloudburst of tears when the dentist asked how I was doing. Or the inability to attend a baby shower tomorrow that I'd been looking forward to.
And then I take my emotional temperature for the week: The donation of D's prosthetic leg to be remade for someone who can't afford one. The sickness that produced a flushed face and hoarse voice that caused my (elderly) grief class leaders to tell me it would be OK to just go home for the evening. Barnes and Noble informing me tonight that D's discount card expires at the end of this month.
It's just like little pieces of him continue to disappear around me. I was thinking the other day as I vacuumed and dusted that the last traces of his DNA would be gone from around the house soon. Morose, I know.
And the cards, letters and phone calls? They have all but stopped. But truth be told? I really, really just want to be alone these days. I do know that I'll desire the company of others some day. It is just not today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime soon.
Hoping for rest and restoration in solitude this weekend.
And an accurate dose of cough medicine tonight.