I'm finding that one of the hardest things to deal with is the loss of me. Who am I? Who am I becoming? It just hit me yesterday: not only have I lost Dennis, I've lost my identity. All of our friends in California only know "RickandDennis" or "DennisandRick"—you can't have one without the other. As our friend Rick Mariani stated: "you guys are like peas and carrots—separate but always together." Even though Dennis didn't like peas, I can certainly see Rick's analogy. I don't know who I am any longer. Half of my identity is missing and at the moment, I don't know what to do about it.
I'll use the pool league as an example of "the new me"—once upon a time, I could be counted on to finish off a game and gather the win for my team. Not necessarily so any more. My pool game careens around like a drunk driver. During two of my four games last night, it appeared that the "old Rick" was shooting, running out however many balls were left to get the out and the win. Then the other two games looked like I was wearing a blindfold. I'm up and down more than an elevator.
During both my individual and group grief counseling, it's been mentioned that you need to "give yourself some slack" but the way I look at it, I never have given myself some slack in the past, why should I start now? I've always been hard on myself; am I supposed to suddenly turn soft? Hell no! I always accomplish what I start out to do because I'm hard on myself. That's been the one constant in my life, and now I'm being told I need to change my ways.
I know Dennis will never be here again in the physical sense; I get that. I'm just finding it very difficult to get through the everyday activities that made me who I was and I'm trying to figure out what activities are going to evolve into creating the new Rick. All I can say is: I hope the "new Rick" turns out better than "new Coke"—remember that disaster?
Many friends have told me that they think I'm doing great. Of course, they aren't with me 24/7so while it may appear that I am indeed "doing fine"—think again. It's almost been four months since he died, and I'm still in a fog (and not just because I live in San Francisco). I really don't know how I function some times. And lately I seemed to have slipped back into a weepy phase—it might be a good idea to invest in Kleenex stock; they certainly disappear around here quickly enough. Reading has always been a great pleasure in my life, but lately, while I'm still reading, I just don't enjoy it like I used to. I guess that's what this blog is for: get it all down and out of my system. It seems that the hole in my life is just not getting any smaller. Lately, it's just getting bigger.
I know that when I see the public you, the private you is still there. You are alone at home and I can only imagine that the grief is still there and always will be forever. I cannot discount your grief by telling you things to make you feel better. I would not be honest of I did that. I respect any way you want to deal with this. I know it is the only way you know how. Do what you have to do. You won't get any guilt from me.
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