6 Months

Today is Friday the 13th. Today marks six months. Carl died on Friday the 13th of October. He was in hospital for 9 days as his life slowly ebbed away. The nurses were astounded that he lasted that long as he had grown so frail. On the Thursday I jokingly said to the nurse, “I think he is waiting for Friday the 13th so I will always remember the day he died.” And so I do.

You might wonder what it is like to slowly try to adapt to a new way of being after years of being another way. This Sunday would have been our 30th wedding anniversary. So after 29 1/2 years as a couple I am now a one. It hit me hard the first time I had to tick the box … single, married, divorced, WIDOW. Widow – such an old sounding word and I have to tick that box. It hits me every 13th of the month – another month gone. It’s hits me every time I walk in the front door. I still call out, “I’m home!” knowing no one will answer back. It floods over me every morning when I wake up and would have rolled over and snuggled into the crook of his arm but only see that his half of the bed is empty. It hit’s me at social times when I would have found his eyes in the room and we would have known exactly what the other was thinking. I still say we, our, us.

I have been away from home this week for some Continuing Education. I found myself in a circle of people I did not know. In the past I would have phoned home to let him know I arrived okay. I would have called each night to see how his day went. Instead I found myself collapsing into tears for no apparent reason to this roomful of strangers.

Our family Easter gathering was fun as always. I was surrounded by the people who know me the best and always seem able to love me no matter what. It was fun and joy filled and I could hardly bear it only because he was not there with me.

I can accomplish the humdrum. I pay all the bills now. I have organized the Income Tax and managed (I think) to find all his papers for this, his final year of paying tax. I will soon call about getting the garage roof shingled … and life goes on … while a piece of me is held suspended on a Friday the 13th.

None of this is new or remarkable. This is all in the books on grief. These are common feelings to someone raw with loss. But they are all new to me. Last night I gathered with a room full of women. Dear friends from years ago. They are all part of the congregation where Carl and I met. They all go to the church where Carl and I were married. They held me in a loving net of friendship. We laughed as we enjoyed food and wine. They soothed my soul and one sent me home with the flowers that had decorated the table. I am going now to put them on Carl’s grave. My friend knew what flowers to choose. The flowers that decorated the church at our wedding. The flowers Carl always gave me. The flowers I put in his bouquet at his funeral. They were our flowers. Now, on this 6 month anniversary I will lay them on his grave and I will say the beautiful, comforting words from the Creed, “In life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us. We are not alone.”