Where does the time go?
Summer is slipping away. I needed a sweater this morning for my walk; it was dark before bedtime last night. I was surprised by summer this year and not ready for it. E.g.,: Berte-the-MGB spent the driving season in the now-clean (oh the joys of children on summer breaks....) garage b/c I couldn't get my act together to do the licensing in between the trips to the Island to deal with The Estate. At least he is sitting in cleanliness and has the hard top on and will be given a lovely wash this week before covering him with the winter blanket. He probably should have had a bunch of car things done which haven't been and I hope he will forgive me or that someone who knows what I should be doing will tell me......
Everyone who doesn't know says the first year is the worst. I beg to differ. In the first year, loss is all new and horrible and never-ending. The difference between year one and year two is that the loss is no longer new. It has become a part of who I am and it informs my life in the way that an amputation informs the life of the amputee. I thought I was still expecting Himself to come home and I realize that I am no longer expecting that but I keep hoping he will magically ride into the driveway and this will all be a bad dream. I know in my mind that's not going to happen but the mind doesn't always win. I continue to be caught by the moments and smack of his absence: not needing to call home when I'm going to be late, choosing to use the push mower b/c it's easier, a shirt forgotten in a suitcase, the list of house jobs he was planning (1.: fix tile in bathroom) (fyi: the "three week, no problem" reno is still unfinished), a pansy pressed between pages of an old textbook....
So many "things" have been dealt with and dealt with well this past year.
What will I do when all the projects are done?
The breathing continues - thanks be for the autonomic nervous system....
Everyone who doesn't know says the first year is the worst. I beg to differ. In the first year, loss is all new and horrible and never-ending. The difference between year one and year two is that the loss is no longer new. It has become a part of who I am and it informs my life in the way that an amputation informs the life of the amputee. I thought I was still expecting Himself to come home and I realize that I am no longer expecting that but I keep hoping he will magically ride into the driveway and this will all be a bad dream. I know in my mind that's not going to happen but the mind doesn't always win. I continue to be caught by the moments and smack of his absence: not needing to call home when I'm going to be late, choosing to use the push mower b/c it's easier, a shirt forgotten in a suitcase, the list of house jobs he was planning (1.: fix tile in bathroom) (fyi: the "three week, no problem" reno is still unfinished), a pansy pressed between pages of an old textbook....
So many "things" have been dealt with and dealt with well this past year.
What will I do when all the projects are done?
The breathing continues - thanks be for the autonomic nervous system....
posted by Another Joan at 5:00 p.m.
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