Grief is my Mistress

Well, I’m finished with school. I’ll be taking the walk on August 29th to make my graduation official. As of last week, there will be no more rushing around, trying to write papers and collect research data. I have no more chapters to read in academic textbooks.

And I have so much time to myself, which is something I have craved for a long time. Time to be quiet, to be still, to rest.

The end of my school days has leaked into my workout schedule and created a pocket of ”I don’t wanna do it.” I’m just relaxing. And I’m still dealing.

I’m glad I have time, again. Time used to scare the daylights out of me. Now, I welcome it, even though I cry sometimes, simply because there’s time to, now.

July 4th is a trigger date for me. I don’t feel like going into detail at the moment, but I’m sure I have written about it in blog posts from Independence Days passed.

I still just remember a promise -- not made by anyone -- but a promise, no less, or a hope for a promise. I remember the History Channel all day and night for an entire day when I sat in my bed staring at the screen, watching men scalp other men and wishing I could walk out the door with my husband and enjoy the Charles River festivities. All we wanted to do was walk to the Esplinade, since we lived so close. But Chris was too sick. He slept the entire weekend, and anyone who has ever witnessed somebody fight cancer knows that by “entire weekend” I mean 24 hours a day, waking only to use the bathroom once or twice.

I was lonley for the life we had together. I was angry that he couldn’t rise up from the couch and hug me. I was helpless as he lay sleeping, and I wanted out of that nightmare so badly. I wanted Chris to get well and stay with me.

I can still see him passed out in a chemo-induced pseuda-coma. I would never leave him. Never.

Independence Day is coming, again, and I know if I try, I can have a very happy long weekend, even though Jonathan is away. That’s probably for the best, actually. When grief comes calling, I’d rather not have to explain to anybody. It’s nice, in a strange way, to be afforded the time to temporarily fall apart.

Our time is coming. We’re talking marriage and kids and living together, these days. I’m so happy I have him in my life.

Okay. If I'm gonna do it at all, tonight, I’d better cram something down my throat, wash off these tears and head to the gym.

...or maybe I’ll just curl up and read. :)

Shneed