Chutes and Ladders

Grief is a strange phenomenon. This weekend has been absolutely wonderful. My friends got married on Friday evening and it was the most fun wedding EVER. With just a small gathering at their home, they were married by a friend of theirs, who is a judge, and another friend of theirs catered the entire event. It was very beautiful and very fun and filled me to my core with joy. One of my friends approached me and said, “I wish Chris could have been here.” He was. I felt him inside of me, outside of me and everywhere.

Saturday’s social activities began with coffee and a bagel with a close friend. Saturday evening I attended an opera featuring an actress in the play in which I’m cast. It was very beautiful and exciting music. I ended the night with a trip to the open mike, my first since Chris died. I had fun. I sang four songs. The open mike regulars were there right where they are every time. I like that I have friends there.

On the way to Carol’s I mentioned to her that I’m having a struggle concerning open mikes and my wonderful mood as of late. It feels as though I’m saying “I’m glad Chris is dead. Now I can go to open mikes again.” and that’s just not true. Carol said I’m just reclaiming things in my life that I had always enjoyed doing before everything fell apart. It makes sense. I just have to keep one step ahead of myself and realize that things are going to get twisted in my head for a while.

On the drive home, I was surprised by an ambush of tears and distress. It occurred to me how lonely the open mike was for me. I guess I never realized that everything I do and everything I did had meaning because I would anecdotally report my life’s happenings to my husband. I knew this night was coming; the first night I would get home after 1:00am and Chris wouldn’t be there. Because I have been feeling so happy for the past few days, I thought I was ready to go to the open mike, and I was, but I thought that since I was feeling so good, I’d be okay with returning home to an empty apartment and an empty bed. Grief is a strange creature. It calls the shots. I am no longer in control of this journey. I’m a passenger on a runaway train, headed toward Serenity and Peace Station, via Anguish and Distress Streets.

The first signs of sadness began after the opera. I didn’t really think about how attending the open mike would effect me. I thought that since I felt ready, it would be easy. I was ready, but it was difficult. Earlier, I spoke with Carol about how I was feeling some guilt for going at all. The truth is that I was feeling happy, which made me feel guilty which, in turn, made me feel angry that I have to feel guilty for feeling happy. I know. It’s confusing. What I finally arrived at is the realization that when I’m feeling happy, I get sad and that feels lousy, but better than feeling happy…oh…sort of. It’s a bizarre journey down Crazy Street.

I drove home squinting to see the traffic symbols through my tears and upon my arrival home, found that I didn’t really want to go inside. I cried on my front porch bench for a few moments as I thought about how deep my love for my friends is. I feel so safe and secure when I’m with them. I still enjoy the company of my outer echelon friends and acquaintances but my inner circle is so tight and safe and so full of love and I’m so lucky to have friends like mine. I got up, went inside, lit my Chris candle and watched our wedding video so I could see him alive again and so I could marvel at the expression of love on my own face as the JP had us recite our vows to each other. I have never loved like that in my life. We were two best friends who got married. His title was “husband” but what I really lost is my very best friend and for as long as I live, I’ll miss him from the deepest part of my heart’s core.