Good morning. It’s Thursday and I’m going to write down some of my thoughts about widowhood, life without Peter, grieving and other ponderings on this Thoughtful Thursday.
1). I need to slow my roll regarding selling the house. I’ve said this once before and now, I’m saying it again. Maybe I need repetition to learn. I thought I was ready. I thought I should get the house in order by Spring in order to put it up during the optimum season. I thought I could get it turn-key ready while I’m in my escape apartment these next six months. I thought I could do it. All of it. Move into the apartment and get the house ready. The problem is before anyone does work on it, I have to be ready. I have to ready to go through tools and bins labeled “Peter” and all the memories they hold. But I can’t. Not yet. I tried. It was too daunting, so daunting that I had a few anxiety attacks complete with chest pains and ragged breathing. I think my body was screaming, “not now”, “not yet”, “maybe soon”. I am moving to the apartment to heal away from all this house holds. I need to be refreshed enough to face the memories, the tools, the bins labeled “Peter”, with sighs, humor, shake of my head, maybe even teardrops all from remembering. I don’t need for my body to go into panic mode. So, I’m slowing my role and pushing it back. It’ll come soon enough. I don’t need it now. Not while I still need to gain strength from healing.
2). Only one more weekend until I move to my city of birth, my city of welcoming, my city of independence. I am calm about this move. I don’t remember ever being so organized, if at all. My scattered brain doesn’t put things in order very often. I’m that person who throws things in garbage bags instead of labeled bins or stuffs papers in drawers for another time. My move though has been organized and I’m kind of asking “who am I?” which has been a question I’ve been asking since Peter died. Sure, I have some apprehensions about moving. I mean, I don’t have the comfort like Norm at a Cheer’s Bar the way I do in this little town. I won’t know anyone like I do here every time I leave my apartment. Yes, I will meet people for lunch and I will make plans for the evening by joining some groups. Still, it’ll be different. And as nervous as that makes me, it is also one of the reasons to stay downtown – for the anonymity and the starting over. For me to emerge from the death of Peter, I have to seek out who I am without him. Sometimes, for me, that includes a disassociation, until I find it. I will never forget Peter. I can’t. I was proud to be his wife. But he’s gone. I’m no longer his wife in life. And I have to learn whatever and whoever that means. So, yeah, downtown, here I come, ready for my lessons.
3). I will also admit, there is something very exciting about finding myself in the hussle and bustle of the city. I love all its noises, its smells, its uncertainty, its calming lake, its beautiful building, its people – sometimes friendly, sometimes not – and its pace. It’ll probably take me a few minutes to adjust to it all again, especially living in the small part of the world I do now. Yet, like a bike I haven’t been on in a long time, it’ll come back to me, and then I hope to enjoy the peddling.
4). My job is ending sooner than I originally thought. Including today, I have about five more days left. They’re spread over four weeks – today, two days next week, one day over the first two weeks in November. I am okay with leaving. I am loving the idea of writing full days. Part of me will miss the people I work with and the job itself. It’s not easy walking away from a boss that treats you so well. He was the boss I needed after a job with a, um, well, um, let’s just say a not-so-good boss. And the firefighters, paramedics, inspectors, and emergency management team were, are, all people I admire. They do their jobs with professionalism, dedication, and kindness. I am in awe of these heroes. I will miss them. I say good-bye with a bit of sadness. I realize though it allows me to say hello to my passion. I fell great about that!
5). I put together a counter stool yesterday. It was NOT easy. It took me an entire episode of Food Network’s Halloween Wars and I can’t even tell you who won! I followed the instructions and I did it. When I sat down on it, it held me, so I think I did it properly. There weren’t any screws leftover and it didn’t even wobble. I have a matching one I still have to put together, but I got one done. I’m amazed myself. Sure, I know I have it in me…to put things together. I just haven’t used those muscles in a long time. When Peter was alive, I chose not to flex them. Peter took care of everything. That was his love language. It worked. I mean, we wouldn’t have been together for over thirty years if it didn’t. But now, I have to step up my game. He’s gone. And, like any muscles that are atrophied, it’s painful, and it will take some time…like an entire episode of Halloween Wars. BUT, it’ll get done and it’ll be solid enough to sit on.
6). Did you know grief can cause body aches? It can, and it does with me. My body has ached a lot since Peter died. I wonder if it’s from an aching heart? Doesn’t a heart kind of control everything? I don’t know. I mean, the flu shot, the change of weather can be making it worse, and I do have an unregulated thyroid still, but I think it might be the grief poking at me. Ah well. I’ll keep moving. I can’t let it stop me, right?
7). My faith is coming back. I’m not sure if the anger toward God is gone. I’m not sure if it’ll ever go away. I have said the rosary a few times. It is a great practice in Mindfulness. Plus, I think Mary can comfort me. I hope so. I have faith in her. And, of course, it’s a slip back to my childhood which I seem to slip back to in times of seeking comfort. I don’t think my faith is blind anymore. I think it’s conditional and I’m not sure how I get over that hump. I am talking to God more though. And yes, I slip in how angry I still am at Her…Him…They. I am thinking God understands, at least the God I knew. I’m not sure how well I know God now. With all these uncertainties. I still feel the steps I’m taking back to my faith, to God. My father once told me questioning still shows a faith, sometimes the strongest faith because searching and learning are neverending. And you can’t question something you don’t at least have an interest in. My father was a teacher who also told me there is never a dumb question. My father had a lot of faith. Anyway, I’m coming back to it..to Faith…to God…to Mary.
8). I am a Pollopesecterian since Peter died. What’s that? It’s a person who doesn’t eat red meat. I didn’t know there was a name for it either. I eat lots of fish, some chicken, some eggs and cheese (God, I love cheese!) now. But red meat? I can’t. It sits in my belly like a bolder whenever I digest even a hamburger. I always think I can eat red meat once in a while, thinking the bolder feeling was a fluke. I always think wrong…every time. I was never a huge red meat person. Nor have ever I liked pork. I bought bacon right after Peter died, thinking I’d get a hankering for it. And I just threw it out, the unused half of it. Yeah, not a huge bacon person either. I used to make steak and roasts and hamburgers for Peter. He was very much of a meat-potato-veggie kind of guy. Reflective of his simple lifestyle I think. But well, like so many other things since Peter died, I don’t have to make red mean anymore. So now, I declare myself a Pollopesecterian. Oh wait, golumpki has red meat in them, don’t they? I eat those at Christmas. Maybe I can take a break from it on the holidays. I mean, it can lie like a bolder in my stomach with the rest of the junk I eat then.
Well, random thoughts today, this Thursday, this Thoughtful Thursday. Peace in your nows because nows are the only guarantees.