Someone contacted me yesterday to see how I was doing. She said I'd been too quiet on the internet. I really haven't had much to say and even now I'm not sure. I had a weekend full of family and friends. Full of laughter and love and even a few tears. Now I'm alone, adjusting. It's odd and surreal. I feel pretty proud of myself. I got up this morning and showered. I made a lovely breakfast burrito. I've answered emails and messages. I've cleaned out the medicine cabinet and I've filled three carpenter bags with his clothes. Things I've kept: one Star Wars T-shirt, two sweaters, two flannel shirts, and one army jacket. Oh yeah, and two pairs of smart wool socks. I feel like this is reasonable. It's amazing the aftermath of death. All the things that get left behind. All the stuff. His office...that's going to sit and wait for a while. What's the rush?
Everyone has sent so many kind words and love. They mean so much. I've been trying to respond to all the emails and messages, but it gets so overwhelming at times. Telling the same story over and over. Wednesday, I knew that things were done. I cried all day that day overwhelmed with a sense of loss and the inability to do anything for him. He was in so much pain and could barely communicate with me. So I did most of my grieving then, curled up next to him. And when he left us on Friday he was finally without pain. And that's it. That's the story. And I'm OK with this. We both are at peace.
We are planning a memorial of sorts for the 18th. I don't have details yet except we're trying really hard to get it set up at USAO. I will post more when I know.