BORING!

Talking about the weather is almost as boring as talking about being a widow. Enough already! It seems that with both—weather and widowhood—there’s really little you can do about it except believe in the future. It will be spring again. I will be happy again.

My therapist says grief is like a chronic disease. You have relapses and remissions. Maybe you’re never cured; you just learn to live with it. That seems like an apt metaphor to me. This past week I felt like I’ve been getting “sick” again but I know I can and will feel better. Just have to be patient, drink lots of fluids (wine and water) not push myself, etc., etc., etc.

Snow Day

I think I have spring fever. It seems ridiculous to write this on yet another snowy day but I have all the symptoms—extreme restlessness, a yearning for warmth and sunshine, an itch to get on a plane and be anywhere but here trapped in my house and, even worse, my head.

I keep coming up with travel plans for the spring. Maybe I’ll go to Copenhagen or London. Haven’t been to Spain in years. How would I feel about going to Rome again this time by myself. I read the travel section of the NYTimes this past Sunday and thought Borneo sounded like a good idea. I’m free to do anything I want, go anywhere in the world, but I don’t feel liberated, I just feel anxious.

Maybe it’s because I’m not going to Italy this spring. I decided I couldn’t face being in the house without Steve. I think I made the right decision. I know I couldn’t be there alone but it I still feel uneasy about it. What was that man thinking—renting the house for 5 years. Such certainty that he would live forever. Maybe he was struck down for overreaching, punished for his hubris.

Ringless

I’m not wearing my wedding rings. I took them off when I went to Jamaica and I haven’t put them back on since I’ve returned. I loved wearing them but I don’t miss them now. Somehow, it feels almost dishonest to keep wearing them. This is my reality: I’m not married anymore.

They weren’t even my original wedding rings. My “real” engagement ring, the one Steve gave to me on my 22nd birthday just one month (!) after we met, was stolen along with my wedding band one summer about 15 years ago. Then it really did feel weird not to be wearing my rings. Eventually I took an old ring belonging to my mother-in-law and had it reset to my taste and bought a wedding band to go with it. They were beautiful but they had absolutely no sentimental value, just some jewelry I treated myself to, something I've been known to do more than once.

Now they sit in my jewel box and not on my finger.

What Next?

I am happy. I am sad. I am laughing. I can’t stop crying. Mostly I am tired. Tired of taking my mental temperature fifty times a day. Tired of living within my head, carrying on a conversation that never ends. I keep asking, “When will this be over?” This being a weird mixed state of shock and awe, sadness and happiness, despair and hope.

I am waiting by the side of the road for happiness to come my way again. What will it look like? What will it feel like? I’m not depressed, just sad but not, thank goodness, all of the time. I’m also expectant, resilient and still confident that I have a deep capacity for joy. I know I must be patient but that, for me—a doer, a problem-solver—is the hardest challenge.

I’m no stranger to loss, not frightened by change but this is different. 41 years of my life, my marriage, died one sunny morning in August. When I picture my marriage to Steve, I see a huge, rambling structure created over long periods of time. It’s full of odd shaped rooms and funny passageways but comfortable and comforting to live in. Now it’s gone. What next?

My New Persona

New year resolution: Be happy and write happy.

So here goes: I have made the social pages of the Jamaica Gleaner as Giuliano's mother-in-law. What a thrill!

In Jamaica, I am no longer a wife, a widow or even a mommy. I'm officially a mother-in-law.

Surrounded by Love

I am still in Jamaica. My real home seems very far away in some cold, dark place that I am not eager to get back to.

I loved being in the house at Treasure Beach with Elliott and Jeelu and Asha. Everything afternoon and evening Liz and Giul and the dogs would join us. We chatted, watched the sunset--always amazing--ate Audrey's wonderful food, listened to music, played games and all the time one of us--maybe all of us--was thinking of Steve and how we loved him and missed his being here. Somehow I felt our being together was conjuring up his presence, that he was watching us play Sorry, hearing Freddy King in the background, sharing the vibe, feeling the love. I didn't feel sad. I felt lucky to be in this beautiful place with good friends and family who loved me.

On New Year's Eve, we all left for Negril and it almost felt that we were leaving Steve behind. We were going to a place where he had never been and would never see. Maybe that is why I felt so sorrowful that night. I've never made a big deal about New Years. I've always been just as happy to stay home and cuddle on the couch. But that night I really couldn't bear the thought that Steve would never experience 2011. It made me so sad. It seemed so final. He's not ever coming back, I said. I really am on my own.

That horrible feeling lasted just one night, thank goodness.

When I was young, my mother always told me I was surrounded by love. Those words never failed to comfort me when I was lonely and frightened. I say them to myself now and think of Steve. He is surrounded by love.