I don't see a reason to blog about it, but I have spent a little time journaling. Putting my feelings in a journal feels like a private diary, while blogging feels like a highway billboard. Don't take it personally, but my private feelings are mine and will remain so, except when I share them with people I select, as opposed to the universe.
I will say, anyway, that I am completely miserable. It's been more than three months, six months since the decline to death began. If anything, I'm feeling worse as time goes forward. It comes in waves: I'll spend days off-and-on in tears, have a deep, sobbing, smack-the-pillow session, then vegetate for several days until it happens again. I don't know how to go on. I have so many regrets. Keeping busy helps, but not always. I went for counseling once so far, didn't click, will try again.
The things that have comforted me:
- Late afternoon on the stormy day of the funeral, I looked at the weather radar. Clouds all around, except that a clear patch in the shape of a heart opened around the time she was buried. It moved across the island and broke. I see it as her message to me.
- Towards the end of the shiva week I came home alone, sat on my bed looking at the hospital bed she died in, and broke down. I asked aloud all the usual "why" questions. I could swear she gave me the answers. Mostly "That's just the way it works."
- Coming home from services a few nights later, over the horizon rose a beautiful bronze nearly-full moon. It made me laugh. I could hear her say, "I guess you'll be alright after all, if you can still see the beauty in the world."
I won't be posting often.