It seems like months since Ron died, and it's only a month tomorrow. I'm glad I do lists of things to do and keep them, even when everything is crossed off, because I refer to them on the days I feel nothing has been accomplished to affirm that I have accomplished a lot. The to-do lists grow and grow, though. Every day brings new issues to address, some of which are causing me to lose sleep.
Today, though, is Sunday, and the issues to address are business related and can't be attended to today. Sooooo I will clean! I'll finish cleaning the bedroom Tony is going to use and make up the bed. Tony will have to take apart the crib that Em still insists she sleep in, though she's way too big for it. Not quite sure where Em will sleep now but we'll figure it out. Maybe I'll buy an air mattress to put in my bedroom for her. Maybe I'll get Ron's gun room totally cleared and painted and make that into a bedroom for Ember. Ha... that will take weeks to do.
Ron's toothbrush got tossed Friday evening. I'd been thinking about it for a week and took the plunge. Throwing out something as simple as a toothbrush is a big step. He's not coming back, dammit.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Pictures of Ember
On Monday of this week, my sister and I took Em to her local park for a picnic and play. Em was delighted to find kids near her age, even if they were boys. Actually, she likes playing with boys, and the dirt on her arm in this first picture came from playing touch football. The smile says it all!
Riding her big wheel in the fountain area.
Just walking with the ball.
Pushing the tire swing, which is empty.
Riding her big wheel in the fountain area.
Just walking with the ball.
Pushing the tire swing, which is empty.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I'm a Fraud.... a Counterfeit Resident
I just climbed the stairs to the second floor..to our bedroom. Each step I climbed reminded me that Ron climbed these stairs thousands and thousands of times over the past 30+ years. I have lived in this house just under 2-1/2 years, accruing many fewer climbs than Ron, and I am now its lone resident and owner. What is wrong with this picture?
It makes me feel like a fake, a fraud. How is it that I now own this big old house and the 12 acres that accompany it? Who am I?
My one big fear is that I will learn to love it before it can be sold. It will be difficult to leave it anyway, though I don't now love it, because it is the home of our memories. It is the owner of my marriage. It is Ron. He walked every board on these old floors. He touched every surface. He looked out each window and saw the change of seasons for years and years and years.
And now it is me, all alone, who walks the floors, looks out the windows and climbs the stairs to our bedroom.
It's been a tough few days. Today was better. I've had a lot of anger and sadness. I cried, sobbed, screamed and even threw a few things. At the end of yesterday, though, which was a most horrible day, I realized that as bad as the issues are, as much chaos Ron has left in his passing, he also left me a most wonderful legacy, that of good will that I am able to call upon. Everybody has good feelings about Ron: respect, like, love, admiration, high regard. And he was MY guy! By association, I can claim the good will he unknowingly cultivated. I am most lucky.
It makes me feel like a fake, a fraud. How is it that I now own this big old house and the 12 acres that accompany it? Who am I?
My one big fear is that I will learn to love it before it can be sold. It will be difficult to leave it anyway, though I don't now love it, because it is the home of our memories. It is the owner of my marriage. It is Ron. He walked every board on these old floors. He touched every surface. He looked out each window and saw the change of seasons for years and years and years.
And now it is me, all alone, who walks the floors, looks out the windows and climbs the stairs to our bedroom.
It's been a tough few days. Today was better. I've had a lot of anger and sadness. I cried, sobbed, screamed and even threw a few things. At the end of yesterday, though, which was a most horrible day, I realized that as bad as the issues are, as much chaos Ron has left in his passing, he also left me a most wonderful legacy, that of good will that I am able to call upon. Everybody has good feelings about Ron: respect, like, love, admiration, high regard. And he was MY guy! By association, I can claim the good will he unknowingly cultivated. I am most lucky.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Why?
It just hit me again big time that Ron's gone. It happened so quickly. The obituary said, "short illness," and that is so correct. I miss you, Ron. You were supposed to come home and we thought we would have months, maybe a year or more, before the inevitable occurred. But you kept going down hill. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED????
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Mourning ... Still
This time of the day, whether it be weekends or weekdays, is very difficult for me. We usually ate about 5:30 and just about now I'd be getting supper on the table. As much as I disliked cooking, we had our ritual of suppertime, and I would give most anything to experience that ritual again. It's been a long time, though, because once Ron started chemo, the whole food thing changed. He didn't eat or he'd sleep in, therefore pushing meals hours ahead of usual time.
I sit here looking at the recliner. I hate that recliner, but it held Ron when he was so fatigued he could barely move. A hug, a kiss, a wink, the touch of our hands, me sitting here at the laptop while he dozed in the chair -- I miss it all... I want it back...
Sometimes all I want to do is talk about Ron but I want to talk about how we were together, things that others don't necessarily want to hear nor do I really want to share them. Anybody who's married knows about the private things that couples share. The rituals. I miss the rituals of being married. I miss walking up behind him as he sat at the kitchen table, leaning down to kiss his neck and then rubbing it. I miss the way he'd reach out for me and hug me to him. I miss DVRing his favorite shows. I miss sharing a bed with Ron. I miss the 'dance' we did in the mornings when we were both in the bathroom. I miss the sound of his big shoes on the wooden floors. I miss knowing that if something went wrong, he could fix it! Ron could fix anything.
Miss miss miss... I want it all back... and it's not gonna happen.
I keeping hoping I'll dream about Ron and remember, but I don't. Makes me sadder than I am.
I sit here looking at the recliner. I hate that recliner, but it held Ron when he was so fatigued he could barely move. A hug, a kiss, a wink, the touch of our hands, me sitting here at the laptop while he dozed in the chair -- I miss it all... I want it back...
Sometimes all I want to do is talk about Ron but I want to talk about how we were together, things that others don't necessarily want to hear nor do I really want to share them. Anybody who's married knows about the private things that couples share. The rituals. I miss the rituals of being married. I miss walking up behind him as he sat at the kitchen table, leaning down to kiss his neck and then rubbing it. I miss the way he'd reach out for me and hug me to him. I miss DVRing his favorite shows. I miss sharing a bed with Ron. I miss the 'dance' we did in the mornings when we were both in the bathroom. I miss the sound of his big shoes on the wooden floors. I miss knowing that if something went wrong, he could fix it! Ron could fix anything.
Miss miss miss... I want it all back... and it's not gonna happen.
I keeping hoping I'll dream about Ron and remember, but I don't. Makes me sadder than I am.
Mourning
Life goes on and the world continues to spin, but it's a lot more difficult for me to participate with Ron gone. Sorrow comes out of no where. I can be fine for hours because I'm busy and then I slow down, and it all comes crashing around me. I do not recommend this to anybody. Being a survivor (I refuse to use the "W" word because I consider myself still married) is horrible.
It's bad enough that there are reminders in every part of the house, but then I do something alone that we always did together, and a new rush of hurt spirals into my spirit. It was 3 weeks yesterday that Ron passed so everything is still very fresh.
Death is work for those left behind. I tell everybody with whom I talk to make sure your records are set up and maintained about what to do if your spouse dies. Do you know your spouse's SS number? Retirement system number? Was he in the service? What about life insurance policy numbers? I had good records and even then, it's been a tremendous amount of work. Arranging a funeral, making phone calls, filling in forms, reading sympathy cards, writing thank you notes for flowers and donations in Ron's name. For the first week there's an almost never-ending amount of work to do, and then it kind of all slows down the second week, which is when I kicked into a manic phase of physical work. Mow the lawn, fill in the potholes in the driveway, move piles of dirt, vacuum the house, dust, clean, wash floors. I was up and going 18 hours a day!
This past week -- week 3 -- I'm kind of crashing. I've lost the energy of last week and don't give a rat's ass if the dishes are done let alone if something is dusty. This is the week I am really mourning; thinking about all the things we did over the time we knew each other; thinking about Ron being sick and them the vent being removed.
I've had people kind of give me pep talks about "chin up" and "looking for things to smile about." BITE ME!! Have your husband die and then tell me 3 weeks later how you feel. There is no time line for grief.
In the still moments of the day, or at the grocery store buying for one instead of two, or trying to put something together, I hurt so much I just give in and cry. I won't cry always; I won't cry forever; but I do cry now. I also laugh with those who knew Ron and we share funny stories.
Ron was very much admired, liked and loved in this small town of Greenville where he had lived his entire 72 years of life. Over 300 people came to the two viewings and/or funeral. Grown men leaned on my shoulder and cried because they will miss him.
I started babysitting for Ember on Thursday. I haven't cared for her in over 2 months, since Ron got so weak and needed me at home. Two + months brings big changes to a 3-year-old. She knows Grandpa Ron is dead. When Michele told her, Em cried and cried and then said he's in the sky like Mufaso (sp?) from the Lion King looking down at us. Even now Em talks about Grandpa Ron in the sky looking down at us, and she dreams about him. Two nights ago Em dreamed that Grandma Ron thanked her for taking care of Grandma Marla and said he loved her. Kids are open to anything. It's wonderful.
Time heals. At our age we know this. We've all had losses and broken hearts. I will not always want to drive off the end of the earth (good things it's round, huh). But right now, I just want my husband back so we can hold hands in the car as we often did, and kiss and hug and share meals and just enjoy life. Enjoying life is the reward for living a long life, and I am lucky to have had a couple of years of living with Ron and enjoying life.
It's bad enough that there are reminders in every part of the house, but then I do something alone that we always did together, and a new rush of hurt spirals into my spirit. It was 3 weeks yesterday that Ron passed so everything is still very fresh.
Death is work for those left behind. I tell everybody with whom I talk to make sure your records are set up and maintained about what to do if your spouse dies. Do you know your spouse's SS number? Retirement system number? Was he in the service? What about life insurance policy numbers? I had good records and even then, it's been a tremendous amount of work. Arranging a funeral, making phone calls, filling in forms, reading sympathy cards, writing thank you notes for flowers and donations in Ron's name. For the first week there's an almost never-ending amount of work to do, and then it kind of all slows down the second week, which is when I kicked into a manic phase of physical work. Mow the lawn, fill in the potholes in the driveway, move piles of dirt, vacuum the house, dust, clean, wash floors. I was up and going 18 hours a day!
This past week -- week 3 -- I'm kind of crashing. I've lost the energy of last week and don't give a rat's ass if the dishes are done let alone if something is dusty. This is the week I am really mourning; thinking about all the things we did over the time we knew each other; thinking about Ron being sick and them the vent being removed.
I've had people kind of give me pep talks about "chin up" and "looking for things to smile about." BITE ME!! Have your husband die and then tell me 3 weeks later how you feel. There is no time line for grief.
In the still moments of the day, or at the grocery store buying for one instead of two, or trying to put something together, I hurt so much I just give in and cry. I won't cry always; I won't cry forever; but I do cry now. I also laugh with those who knew Ron and we share funny stories.
Ron was very much admired, liked and loved in this small town of Greenville where he had lived his entire 72 years of life. Over 300 people came to the two viewings and/or funeral. Grown men leaned on my shoulder and cried because they will miss him.
I started babysitting for Ember on Thursday. I haven't cared for her in over 2 months, since Ron got so weak and needed me at home. Two + months brings big changes to a 3-year-old. She knows Grandpa Ron is dead. When Michele told her, Em cried and cried and then said he's in the sky like Mufaso (sp?) from the Lion King looking down at us. Even now Em talks about Grandpa Ron in the sky looking down at us, and she dreams about him. Two nights ago Em dreamed that Grandma Ron thanked her for taking care of Grandma Marla and said he loved her. Kids are open to anything. It's wonderful.
Time heals. At our age we know this. We've all had losses and broken hearts. I will not always want to drive off the end of the earth (good things it's round, huh). But right now, I just want my husband back so we can hold hands in the car as we often did, and kiss and hug and share meals and just enjoy life. Enjoying life is the reward for living a long life, and I am lucky to have had a couple of years of living with Ron and enjoying life.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Time Lines
Ron's funeral was two weeks ago yesterday, and I'm already getting "positive" words from people, words of encouragement such as: chin up, think of something to smile about, don't brood, etc.
Are people nuts???? Grief and sorrow have their own time lines. I have hours on end when I'm "OK," relatively speaking. That is I'm not near tears, nor thinking about Ron constantly or how empty the house is and how much I want to touch and kiss him. But there are times when I sob and cry; scream; pound a wall; wonder out loud WHY??
Right now I am not frozen in time, sitting around being depressed. I have the desire and energy -- probably manic energy -- to DO THINGS. Paperwork, going through Ron's hobby stuff (fishing tackle, guns, clocks, etc.). I find it extremely difficult to sit still and am sleeping only 4 hours or so a night, and those are not consecutive hours.
I want to tell anybody who gives me "good advice" or hints at "getting over it" that until they walk in my shoes -- until they lose their husband -- they have no right to tell me how long my grief should last.
Thankfully I know this. I know that grief comes and goes and that even when I appear fine months down the road, I may relapse. And if I'm in a bad moment when someone offers poor advice, I do tell them that grief lasts far longer than a couple of weeks or months.
Death is confusing, embarrassing and scary to some people. They think it's catchy. They are fools, even if they mean well. Thing is, I don't suffer fools easily.
Today was a good day. Ron wasn't around much, so to speak. There were fewer times when I cried or got teary-eyed. But I was very busy. More paperwork; calls to attorney; someone came over to give me estimates on the value of Ron's shotguns/rifles (Ron collected guns). I was vacuuming at 4 AM..... you know how that is... waking up and what 'cha gonna do?
I haven't touched Ron's personal stuff, and I can't even guess when I'll be ready to do that. His toothbrush still sits next to mine. His shoes, and he had a ton of shoes ranging from loafer type to heavy work boots, are still in the kitchen sitting on the rug where they've always lived. His jackets and hats are hanging from the hooks near the back door. I know this is all normal, and it's so comforting to touch his jackets and brush a sleeve against my face.
I suspect there is a grief group up in Albany, but I live 25 miles from there, and to be honest, I'm not a joiner of groups. I've always been a solitary person. I miss Ron so much, I hate not having him in the house to make it our home, but I don't need others around to make it better.
Are people nuts???? Grief and sorrow have their own time lines. I have hours on end when I'm "OK," relatively speaking. That is I'm not near tears, nor thinking about Ron constantly or how empty the house is and how much I want to touch and kiss him. But there are times when I sob and cry; scream; pound a wall; wonder out loud WHY??
Right now I am not frozen in time, sitting around being depressed. I have the desire and energy -- probably manic energy -- to DO THINGS. Paperwork, going through Ron's hobby stuff (fishing tackle, guns, clocks, etc.). I find it extremely difficult to sit still and am sleeping only 4 hours or so a night, and those are not consecutive hours.
I want to tell anybody who gives me "good advice" or hints at "getting over it" that until they walk in my shoes -- until they lose their husband -- they have no right to tell me how long my grief should last.
Thankfully I know this. I know that grief comes and goes and that even when I appear fine months down the road, I may relapse. And if I'm in a bad moment when someone offers poor advice, I do tell them that grief lasts far longer than a couple of weeks or months.
Death is confusing, embarrassing and scary to some people. They think it's catchy. They are fools, even if they mean well. Thing is, I don't suffer fools easily.
Today was a good day. Ron wasn't around much, so to speak. There were fewer times when I cried or got teary-eyed. But I was very busy. More paperwork; calls to attorney; someone came over to give me estimates on the value of Ron's shotguns/rifles (Ron collected guns). I was vacuuming at 4 AM..... you know how that is... waking up and what 'cha gonna do?
I haven't touched Ron's personal stuff, and I can't even guess when I'll be ready to do that. His toothbrush still sits next to mine. His shoes, and he had a ton of shoes ranging from loafer type to heavy work boots, are still in the kitchen sitting on the rug where they've always lived. His jackets and hats are hanging from the hooks near the back door. I know this is all normal, and it's so comforting to touch his jackets and brush a sleeve against my face.
I suspect there is a grief group up in Albany, but I live 25 miles from there, and to be honest, I'm not a joiner of groups. I've always been a solitary person. I miss Ron so much, I hate not having him in the house to make it our home, but I don't need others around to make it better.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Early Mornings :: It's Been a Month
Sleep beyond 4 AM doesn't happen much any more. Sometimes I go back to dozing, but not the past couple of days.
The days are not getting easier. Ron's here and there, but he's no where. I have reached a stage where I expect to see him on the swing when I drive in the driveway or at the table when I walk in the door, and am so let down when, of course, he's not here.
I weed wacked yesterday morning. It was almost fun. As always, doing yard work makes me feel close to Ron, and I do like the neatness that comes from the effort.
Ron went into the hospital a month ago today. Only a month, but it seems like such a long time ago. How naive we were. He was tired. He had extremely low blood pressure. He had breathing problems. These are fixable, right? Apparently not.
Next week I start taking care of Em again on a flexible but regular basis. Michele said Em asks for me all the time and says she misses me. I miss her too and am looking forward to the routine of what she and I do. I dread not having Ron to leave and come home to. We had our rituals of good-bye and hello and it hurts to have them gone.
When one is half of a couple, the lives are intertwined, no matter how independent they may be. The cycle of leaving and coming together are zones of comfort during the day that go unnoticed for they are common. They are also special.
This is so new to me that if someone asks me, "Are you married," I will respond, "Yes." Ron's dead but I am still married. Don't tell me I am single or widowed. I'm not
Sometimes I can't find Ron in my mind. My mind still thinks he's here so what's the grief all about and why do I have to find him?
The insurance payment from SGLI was received yesterday. It took just one week and one day to get it. It's a relief to have the money to pay for the funeral and seriously address my desire to have installed an automatic-start generator. Wouldn't it be great if we have a mild winter?
I'm in the mood to clean. It's been a while, and other than keeping the kitchen and bathroom clean, I haven't dusted in weeks and it's been a couple of weeks since I vacuumed. Sorta difficult to get excited about a little dust when spending 18+ hours a day in the hospital and then planning a funeral.
The days are not getting easier. Ron's here and there, but he's no where. I have reached a stage where I expect to see him on the swing when I drive in the driveway or at the table when I walk in the door, and am so let down when, of course, he's not here.
I weed wacked yesterday morning. It was almost fun. As always, doing yard work makes me feel close to Ron, and I do like the neatness that comes from the effort.
Ron went into the hospital a month ago today. Only a month, but it seems like such a long time ago. How naive we were. He was tired. He had extremely low blood pressure. He had breathing problems. These are fixable, right? Apparently not.
Next week I start taking care of Em again on a flexible but regular basis. Michele said Em asks for me all the time and says she misses me. I miss her too and am looking forward to the routine of what she and I do. I dread not having Ron to leave and come home to. We had our rituals of good-bye and hello and it hurts to have them gone.
When one is half of a couple, the lives are intertwined, no matter how independent they may be. The cycle of leaving and coming together are zones of comfort during the day that go unnoticed for they are common. They are also special.
This is so new to me that if someone asks me, "Are you married," I will respond, "Yes." Ron's dead but I am still married. Don't tell me I am single or widowed. I'm not
Sometimes I can't find Ron in my mind. My mind still thinks he's here so what's the grief all about and why do I have to find him?
The insurance payment from SGLI was received yesterday. It took just one week and one day to get it. It's a relief to have the money to pay for the funeral and seriously address my desire to have installed an automatic-start generator. Wouldn't it be great if we have a mild winter?
I'm in the mood to clean. It's been a while, and other than keeping the kitchen and bathroom clean, I haven't dusted in weeks and it's been a couple of weeks since I vacuumed. Sorta difficult to get excited about a little dust when spending 18+ hours a day in the hospital and then planning a funeral.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Time Marches On
Ron's funeral was a week ago yesterday. These "first anniversaries" are tough to handle. There will be many of them in the next year, and I dread them all.
I've tried to have something planned to do each day of the week. Monday, Joan was here. Pat came for a visit. I mowed the lawn and Abby came while I was doing that.
Tuesday - yesterday - I had lunch with Deb at her house. She has a lovely place, including a great deck overlooking her yard. I was surprised that I enjoyed myself. When I got home, I trimmed some branches from the magnolia tree and started filling in potholes in the driveway. Somebody's got to do it. Kevin came over late afternoon to catalog Ron's fire arms for me and took them to Rich, who has a Federal license.
Today is Wednesday. I'm going to do more outside work before I shower and then head over to Social Security for an afternoon appointment.
Gotta keep busy or else I'd scream and cry a lot. Mornings are better than later on in the day for my emotions being under control. By 4 PM, I am sinking into my grief. As much as I dislike cooking, there is comfort in the ritual of preparing supper and coming together with my husband. Even if we had both been busy during the day and had seen little of one another (before he got sick), I knew that we'd be together for supper, so about 4 PM, when it would be time to start supper, the grief pours over me, and I long for what we had. I miss the rituals loving couples have. Watching TV is agony because Ron isn't here. I watch only those shows I've DVR'd because Ron didn't care about them.
And I talk to him. Anyone who has lost a loved one talks to that person, and I think we all seriously hope for a reply, or at least a sign that they hear us.
Sometimes I still cannot believe that I will never see my husband again. Never again. How is this possible?
I've tried to have something planned to do each day of the week. Monday, Joan was here. Pat came for a visit. I mowed the lawn and Abby came while I was doing that.
Tuesday - yesterday - I had lunch with Deb at her house. She has a lovely place, including a great deck overlooking her yard. I was surprised that I enjoyed myself. When I got home, I trimmed some branches from the magnolia tree and started filling in potholes in the driveway. Somebody's got to do it. Kevin came over late afternoon to catalog Ron's fire arms for me and took them to Rich, who has a Federal license.
Today is Wednesday. I'm going to do more outside work before I shower and then head over to Social Security for an afternoon appointment.
Gotta keep busy or else I'd scream and cry a lot. Mornings are better than later on in the day for my emotions being under control. By 4 PM, I am sinking into my grief. As much as I dislike cooking, there is comfort in the ritual of preparing supper and coming together with my husband. Even if we had both been busy during the day and had seen little of one another (before he got sick), I knew that we'd be together for supper, so about 4 PM, when it would be time to start supper, the grief pours over me, and I long for what we had. I miss the rituals loving couples have. Watching TV is agony because Ron isn't here. I watch only those shows I've DVR'd because Ron didn't care about them.
And I talk to him. Anyone who has lost a loved one talks to that person, and I think we all seriously hope for a reply, or at least a sign that they hear us.
Sometimes I still cannot believe that I will never see my husband again. Never again. How is this possible?
Monday, August 10, 2009
Yet Another Day
I just got done mowing the lawn. It makes me feel close to Ron. He likes the lawn neat and was the one who mowed it, until he got too sick. So it's mowed. I really enjoy using the zero turn mower, and Ron got a kick out of my enjoyment and using it.
Today has been a busy day. Trip to the attorney to deliver papers. Errands to the bank and the post office. Phone calls to Prudential regarding Ron's IRA as well as filling in paperwork for life insurance. I also finished up thank you notes. Joan was in this morning and Abby stopped over this afternoon.
All this busy work is good -- and it has to be done -- but at the end of the day, my stomach clenches with yearning for Ron. Each day that goes by is a day too far from when last I saw my guy.
Today has been a busy day. Trip to the attorney to deliver papers. Errands to the bank and the post office. Phone calls to Prudential regarding Ron's IRA as well as filling in paperwork for life insurance. I also finished up thank you notes. Joan was in this morning and Abby stopped over this afternoon.
All this busy work is good -- and it has to be done -- but at the end of the day, my stomach clenches with yearning for Ron. Each day that goes by is a day too far from when last I saw my guy.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
He's Gone
I just re-read the July 22 post to this blog. Since that was written, Ron has died.
Just a week and a couple of days prior to Ron's death on July 31 I was anticipating him coming home. What happened? Why did it happen? Why will I never see Ron again? Never share hugs, kisses, holding hands, enjoying the house, the yard, OUR LIFE.
I can't write about it now. It just is, and I am so lonely I could cry, so I do. I, who have never been lonely much at all, now feel it deeply and almost unceasingly. I miss my husband. I am still married in my heart, and though I know time does help -- after all, I am 60 years old and have experienced many events and issues in my life -- I don't want time to help or this feeling to go away. I want to mourn Ron and miss him and love him then as much as I do now.
It's been very difficult. More difficult than I can put into words. The whole business of dying is difficult. The hospital; the funeral home; the wake; the funeral; the phone calls, both incoming and outgoing; the condolences which are necessary to give and receive but make me cry each time I hear one.
My guy is gone... for good. How can that be? How can someone exist one moment and be gone the next?
Just a week and a couple of days prior to Ron's death on July 31 I was anticipating him coming home. What happened? Why did it happen? Why will I never see Ron again? Never share hugs, kisses, holding hands, enjoying the house, the yard, OUR LIFE.
I can't write about it now. It just is, and I am so lonely I could cry, so I do. I, who have never been lonely much at all, now feel it deeply and almost unceasingly. I miss my husband. I am still married in my heart, and though I know time does help -- after all, I am 60 years old and have experienced many events and issues in my life -- I don't want time to help or this feeling to go away. I want to mourn Ron and miss him and love him then as much as I do now.
It's been very difficult. More difficult than I can put into words. The whole business of dying is difficult. The hospital; the funeral home; the wake; the funeral; the phone calls, both incoming and outgoing; the condolences which are necessary to give and receive but make me cry each time I hear one.
My guy is gone... for good. How can that be? How can someone exist one moment and be gone the next?
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