It's been a long month since Sean died, I've faced things that I'd always seen off on the horizon, but thought I would have time to prepare for. I miss him terribly every single day, I miss our innocent peace here, and I miss the ease of the familiar.
The dust has settled, we're fully integrated into the banalities of every day life - but I still feel like the world dropped me off and I am scrambling to catch back up. Bills and paperwork are piling up, letters are still unwritten and unmailed, I'm wandering from place to place aimlessly, searching for meaning and understanding.
It is like a vague fog that I can't shake - all I want to do is sleep (but when I get the chance, I don't). I don't blame Sean, not in so many words. I do resent his leaving, I also resent the turmoil his passing brought to my life, the demons his death awoke. I resent not being ready to deal with death, as a person and as a parent.
I resent that I still feel so much pain.
I know that much of it is my the way my mind works (or doesn't) - I guess I resent that, too. That I have this achy, icky depression. I also know that much of it is the natural process of mourning, a process that I am entirely unfamiliar with. I wish it was just over, that I could open my eyes and have erased August 2008 from memory. That would be easy.
Living is hard.
There is so much to do and see and feel - people whose lives are intertwined with mine, people whose calls and emails I can't quite bring myself to return, whose worry grows in silence. I've kept silent and numb. I understand the draw of reclusion.
But, the hard facts are these:
- I am alive and will be for the foreseeable future.
- I have two children to raise.
- If I stay here, alone and unfulfilled, I will be miserable.
- I am surrounded by people who care about me.
- I have a responsibility to clothe, feed, teach and love my kids.
- I have a responsibility to keep my house clean and safe.
- I made a commitment to my husband to stand by through thick and thin.
- I am the matriarch of my family, and as such am responsible for keeping our bills paid, cupboards stocked, and minds and bodies engaged.
For better or worse life has changed. I am just having trouble now getting up the courage to move on. I wish I had a map.
PS. Two great books for kids dealing with loss:
Lifetimes - Bryan Mellonie (talks about life and death as natural and expected - uses simple language and has stunning illustrations)
Someone Special Died - Joan Singleton Prestine (follows a young girl as she copes with the death of someone special - there is a parent's companion book)