*First off, it's only fair to state that I did not think up that clever title for this post, but oh how I wish I did. See poorwidowme.blogspot.com .
It's been 4 months since Mark died. It seems like he's been gone forever, and like it just happened yesterday. Raw grief has given way to resigned depression and too much eating of ice cream. I'm still struggling with single motherhood--so many things to do and so little me to do them! I miss him all the time, and not just because of the things he did around the house, although I miss that too. Life is harder in every respect without him.
I'm pretty sure I am officially crazy. I think crazy thoughts all the time. Such as feelings of jealousy toward my dead mother-in-law and sister-in-law because I half-way believe that Mark wanted to be with them more than he wanted to be with us. I want to do things I never thought I would do--get a tattoo, dye my hair pink. I am no longer at home in my own skin. Everything I thought about the world was wrong. I thought I was safe. I thought I had all the time in the world. I was wrong.
I'm better able to focus than I was four months ago, but it is still a struggle to stick with things from beginning to end, without wandering off to stare out a window and wonder where he is, and if he's ok. I try to read, and art journal, but my focus just isn't there. Thank God for the mindless meditation of crochet.
Shortly after Mark's death, a woodpecker started tap tap tapping on our maple tree in our side yard. I've never seen or heard a woodpecker near our house before. After three days, the woodpecker disappeared. I half-way believe it was Mark, or a messenger from Mark, letting us know he is ok.
I've gone through drawers and gotten rid of socks and undies. I've donated shoes to charity. I'm thinking of moving on to shirts and suits. I've gone through bookcases of books. But I can't stand to go through the stack on his nightstand. He would have eight to ten books going at a time. He would read a chapter in the book on the top of the stack, then move it to the bottom of the stack. I can't stand to think that he is not coming back, that he will never finish those books.
In his Rolodex, I found a card with my name on it. It has the date of my birthday and the date we first met. It has the date of our first date, and the name of the restaurant where we ate, and the name of the play we saw. It says, "Likes white roses". It has dates and notes of other memorable dates. It has the date of our wedding. I so wished I had more love letters from him, more evidence of his love. I will settle for this.
My beloved mother has done an incredible amount of work in getting Mark's office cleaned up and cleared out. My daughter and I are going to turn it into a craft/computer room. We plan to paint the walls a fun color and decorate it in wild and funky ways. A few of Mark's most prized awards wll remain on the walls in honor and memory of him. We are trying to find ways to go on without him.