Day 16

I hear from many people that I am strong.  I don't really know how to take that.  I'm sure some of you now are racking your brains trying to figure out if "you're the one" that said that.  It is a common comment following closely behind in usage to "I'm sorry for your loss."  But what does it mean?  What criteria is used to determine someone's strength in dealing with the death of their spouse?  Robert would be delighted at this point that I am putting on my scientific cap looking for criteria and quantifiable data.

Am I strong because I get out of bed everyday?  Am I strong because I am working my way through the maze of death?  Am I strong because I can be relatively together for the kids?  Am I strong because I am still here - wouldn't that be strong by default?  Clearly not a win in the strong category.

There are times, more often than I want to admit, that I don't want to be here.  It would have been easier to have gone with him than deal with this.  Now before you start calling 911 and request a welfare check.... I'm fine.  I'm not going to harm myself.  Just think about it though, wouldn't that be easier? I could in essence avoid the problem causing me all the pain.  Who wouldn't wish for that?  How many times in our own lives do we sweep things under the rug rather than deal with them head on?

Death is tricky like that.  When you are the one(s) left behind, you don't get that choice.  You can choose how quickly you try to get through the concrete, tangible details - but even with that you are often waiting on information to come in from other sources.  You can choose to avoid the true pain of losing your loved one and going through the grieving process, but the debt will come due sooner or later.

So I ask again, what makes me strong?  I sure as hell don't feel like.  It takes about an hour for me to get out of bed.  This morning I even closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep when Addy appeared in my doorway.  Just a few more minutes of pretending this is not my life before I put on my false identity and face the world.   Once up, all I want to wear are lounge pants and Robert's huge blue (and hideously unfashionable) fleece sweatshirt.  When I head out of the house, often I just swap out the lounge pants for jeans that are now too big.  I wear UGG slippers inside the house and UGG boots outside.  Socks and sneakers - just too much work.

I'm petrified when I think of "the rest of my life."  Yes, I know I shouldn't make any big decisions now as hey guess what, I'm emotional and might not be thinking rationally!  REALLY?  I feel like a child playing a grown's up game that has gone horribly wrong.  I cannot stop.  I cannot put it on hold and come back later.  I cannot undue what's been done.

So, maybe strong is not the right word.  Too tired to figure our a replacement word.  And really does that matter?  I'm a mess.  Plain and simple.  Robert was the best part of me.   I'm having to perform my own autopsy.  The scars are not visible, but if you look closely, you will see them etched in who I was and who I am now struggling to be.

Shakespeare was right - All the World's a stage and all the men and women merely players.

I love you baby.  Miss you more and more every day.  Come see me.....xoxoxo
~A