Yeah, I know, I know. It's supposed to be "two steps forward, one step back" but the past couple of weeks have had me "slip sliding away" (thanks for the song title, Paul Simon) in the wrong direction. I think it has to do with the approach of June 24th—six months to the day that Dennis died. Just another milestone on the road to recovery (is that even possible?). My main problem lately is loneliness. Our house is not that large; less than 1,000 square feet of space, but it feels like I'm roaming around in a mansion and I never run into anyone. Ever since I've turned 60, I have felt an improvement in the way I "feel" but this is a long process and I suppose there will be setbacks. I'm having one at the moment. Every Friday night I relive his last day—I can't seem to help myself. I constantly "see" him in his chair, looking frail but knowing that there really was nothing further I could have done for him other than what I did. My biggest regret is that we weren't in a financial position where I could have just taken a leave of absense and spent each and every day with him. He knew I had to work though; I had to keep a roof over our head, food on the table—it was a stressful time and I did the best I could. He certainly knew I loved him because I told him so every single day. I just regret not being able to spend more time with him than I did.
I'll be heading back to Michigan in about a month, to attend his memorial that his sisters are having for him. Later that same week, his nephew Jeff is getting married and I'll be there for both ceremonies. I posted a poem in my last entry that I received at the last session of my grief group. I'm going to take it with me and try to read it at the memorial; it remains to be seen whether I'll be able to get through it without the requisite tears. I don't really know what form the memorial is going to take, whether it will just be something simple at Sandie's house, or if it's going to be a bit more and at a different location. I'm planning on talking with her in the next couple of weeks, as I'd like to find out the parameters of the memorial so I can let my younger brother know what's happening. He and Nancy live only about 30 miles north of where I'll be and I'd like them to come if at all possible. This trip will be the first time I've grieved while in the presence of his family, and if John and Nancy are able to come, it will also be the first time with anyone from my family as well. I already know this entire trip is going to be an emotional roller coaster. Just thinking about the trip can reduce me to tears. But at the same time, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone. It's a classic Catch-22 situation. I'm also planning on seeing Jerry and Judy, two old friends who were there at the very beginning of our relationship. We had gone with them to see A Chorus Line at the end of August 1980, and over that weekend, Dennis and I decided to give a relationship a try—and we made it work for a little more than 30 years.
Another regret that I have is the fact that we never "got into" the technological revolution that has appeared over the last couple of decades. I'd love to have some videos of us, with sound, so that at the very least, I could hear his voice again. I still talk to him/his photo all the time; I so miss talking to him though—and having him talk back, to having him call me "babe" one more time. I've got to stop for awhile; I'm a mess.
What can I say? I certainly wish there was something to do - some pill to take, some quick-acting therapy - to make you feel better. But there is no simple answer or solution. We both know this. You were so lucky to have been in a relationship with the same person for thirty years! It was one of fate's cruel pranks to have it end as it did. It was not fair. Unfortunately, life has no rules or even compassion. Sometimes it is downright cruel. You will survive, though, Rick. You experienced a profoundly sad thing, more sad for you than the rest of us, who were Dennis' friends. As a friend, I wish you peace and acceptance, and my never ending support. You have been, still are, and always will be, loved by many.
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean about wanting to hear a person's voice. Of all the crazy things I could not delete Wolf's name to his cell phone that he lost. So it doesn't even go anywhere. Just remember tears are good and cleansing and therapeutic....but they do make a mess of your makeup!
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