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.