One more step

I made it! Not that anything else was expected, but last night was pretty rough. Mild tranquilizers, a few Psalms, some quiet piano music. Himself gave me a Pandora radio a couple of years ago. He did love technology and always wanted the newest thing. I wasn’t sure about that radio…what’s wrong with a stack of CD’s? But being able to put it on The George Winston channel at night, or I’ll Fly Away in the day…that’s nice. Per #4’s suggestion, I slept in the guest room. The cats and Rusty  (my wirehaired dachshund) kept me company, and allowed me to have a little sliver of the right side of the bed.  Dogs know, don’t they. They haven’t even peed in the house this week, and given the rain that is highly unusual. A first, even.

I know I am writing a lot, but it is very cathartic. As rocky and uphill as this road is, it must be climbed (Himself would say “Clumb” because that made more sense as a past tense or whatever tense…pluperfect affirmative or something) and as awful as it is, I don’t want to forget a bit of it. Sedatives are for surgery. This is more like…cross-fit for the soul, complete with throwing up.

I miss him this morning. Of course I do. I am even allowing #4 an extra 30 minutes of sleep so I can get these thoughts in place. I am kind of hoping wishfully like a Disney princess that he will get up on his own, but he is 15 and will sleep until noon if someone doesn’t blow him out of bed. I wish I could do that, sleep until noon. Eventually that gets outgrown and staying in bed past 7 is a guarantee of aching backs and headaches.  And there isn’t anyone to bring me coffee, either. Oh well.

The Good Dr. H has been made aware of all this, and he is suggesting, strongly, that I find a therapist and soon. There is a counseling ministry at the church, but I am unsure of it. Maybe I will. I am unsure of what to fix for breakfast these days so a big decision like that is more than I want to deal with for now.

Himself would know what to do. He would tell me to do it. He was always looking out for my best interest and that means I have to do that now. That’s ok. I can do this. I’m not alone. And no, I don’t see Himself as an angel looking down or whatever. He’s not an angel. Angels were never human and don’t experience salvation. Himself is busy being with God, so now I have to do the looking after myself and my family. I can do this.


About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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2 Responses to One more step

  1. Judy says:

    A near-by church offered Grief Share meetings. I waited three months. They say it really isn’t helpful if you go too soon. It did help. Write about all of it–all your feelings and the “fog” and–all of it. Personally, I think it is the best medicine. At first, when I couldn’t read or crochet or do anything I used to love to do–I wrote and made scrapbooks, and re-watched the funeral video. The writing helped the most.

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