Christmas Eve

I've been feeling ashamed of what I've been doing, and what I continued to do and mostly finished this morning.  I've moved Jerry's clothes and shoes out of the bedroom closet and dressers and his coats out of the hall closet.  I've kept a few things, but everything else I've put into bags and boxes and moved down into the cedar ("snedar," he'd say) closet in the basement, to wait for his kids to go through them if they want to.  Why ashamed?  I don't know.  The whole time I was doing it, I was constantly apologizing to him out loud, constantly reminding him that I love him, occasionally pointing out to him that I certainly had never seen him wear that shirt... Sometimes I'd pull out a shirt I'd seen him wear a million times, and feel a pang at the idea of giving it away, but then always the thought comes back: I can look at the shirt as many times as I want, I can hold on to it with all my might, but he will never come back into the room and put it on again, and that's the part that matters.  Yes, I am keeping a few things - some things I just love the memories of too much to part with.  But most of them will go.  Keeping them won't bring him back.

Possibly I feel ashamed because I'm afraid what I'm doing somehow makes it seem like I'm just fine, that everything is okay now, that I'm "over it," I've "moved on."  Into that shame category, I guess, falls the fact that I took my wedding ring off a number of weeks ago, along with the Claddagh ring I bought myself in Ireland 17 years ago and had worn constantly since then.  I still have Jerry's wedding ring on the chain around my neck, but wearing my own suddenly didn't feel right.  I was so astonished to realize I felt that way.  I always imagined I'd wear that ring for the rest of my life.  I always imagined it would feel right.  And then suddenly it didn't feel right to me to wear it at all.  As if I were pretending something that's no longer true.  I don't feel like a married woman anymore.  I don't know exactly when that happened.  Somewhere in the tumble of travel, football, new job, friends, Prozac, family, Sugarland, all those things I mentioned in my last post, the feeling of being married slipped away.  If I were less Prozacked-up, I wonder if I'd be desolate about that.  I don't know.

So I continue to surprise myself.  I remember reading about widows feeling skin hunger and thinking, That's so vague - I can't imagine ever feeling a longing to be touched by anyone who isn't Jerry.  And now it's different.  Now I know what that's like - after eleven years of living with such an affectionate, warm, loving person, I'm now dropped back into a solitary life - and to be blunt, it sucks.  When I'm with friends and family, they'll hug me, and it's nice, but it's not the same thing.  I miss being held.  I miss having someone to hold.  I miss Jerry, needless to say, but I'm surprised to find myself hoping someday there will be a man in my life again.  Remember back in the early days, how angry I became at the lawyer who told me I'd meet someone else?  Timing is everything.  If someone told me that now, I'd smile at her optimism.

I feel ashamed to want that.  I haven't mentioned it in the blog, y'all will notice.  As if I'm betraying Jerry.  So many ways now I feel like I'm betraying Jerry.  By continuing to live, continuing to move on, hoping to live, to thrive without him.  To want someone in my life that won't be, can't be him.  And I don't know if it'll ever even happen - I didn't meet Mr. Right until I was 36, after all, and if it were to take another 36 years until I met another Mr. Right... well, that would be a long time.  I don't know if this world even holds another Mr. Right-For-Karen.

Sorry.  Not sure this is coherent.  But that's how the mind is operating today.

It's snowing again, which is fine - a white Christmas, plus I don't have to drive to work until Monday morning.  No plans except to brave the post-Christmas hordes on Sunday to do some shopping errands, light bulbs and trash bags and bananas and almond milk and such.  Plan to wrap up in blankets on the couch and catch up on taped episodes of Friday Night Lights.  Watch bits of A Christmas Story over and over again on TBS (without Jerry here to roll his eyes - oh, not this same scene again! - I wish he were here to complain about it).  Listen to the four Sugarland CDs that just came yesterday.  And make the most of the last week of damn-the-torpedoes before I start counting Weight Watchers points come New Year's Day... because I am going to rein this in.  A week until this most horrible of years is done.  It's ending in a far better way than I expected it could have, half a year ago.  But I'll still be very glad to see the last of 2010.

Belated Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year to all y'all.  Thanks for being there.  (P.S. I didn't send out holiday cards this year.  And I certainly couldn't fathom doing a holiday letter.  Hope to do better next year.)

Strange But True

Things that have made me happy this year:

Always and forever, my family and friends come first.  You've pulled me through, you've held me up, you've waited it out, you're still my support and my rock.  The family I'm related to and the family I'm not, the friends I've known since forever or last year and the friends I've never met.  Those of you whose views I share on everything, those of you whose views I share on nothing, those of you in between.  Those of you who knew Jerry and those of you who never had that immense good fortune.  I love you all, I'm grateful to you all, I thank you.

Sugarland.  I am listening to The Incredible Machine every single day to and sometimes from work, that is, when I don't have the 1976 St. Martin-in-the-Fields recording of Messiah going instead.  If you've never heard the voice of Elly Ameling singing "Rejoice Greatly," I suggest you go remedy that - you'll be glad you did.  If you don't have "Stuck Like Glue" stuck in your head, I don't know whether to feel sorry or really really happy for you.  Just went and ordered all the rest of Sugarland's CDs from secondspin.com (great used CD site) the other day and am anxiously awaiting their arrival.  (I know.  CDs.  Not downloads.  Luddite tendencies.)

Shoes.  Yeah, I know, it's my new addiction.  Shoes and Auburn University football.  No surprises there for anyone who's been reading this blog lately.  Cam Newton and his smile have made me very happy this year.  The luck of having been sucked into Auburn football this year, of all years, is pretty cool.

Banana-mayonnaise sandwiches.  That motorcycle ride in Auburn. The entire visit to Auburn, and the trip to Huntsville, and the conviction now that I'm going to move to Alabama someday.  The joy of having a destination, a goal, something to aim for.  Sacred Harp singing, oh, forever Sacred Harp singing, voice or no voice, laryngitis or no laryngitis.

Archie Panjabi.  The accent is a bit wobbly, but every time I see Kalinda I want immediately to put on tall boots and a short skirt and wear lots and lots of makeup.  Probably had a lot to do with my becoming girlified and buying way too many shoes this fall.  And for all I know I'm way into mutton-dressed-as-lamb territory by now, but by God I showed up at work last week in a short black skirt, black tights and black knee-length boots.

Getting a job.  Getting a job in which I get to edit material for a newsletter, work on assembling the newsletter, and still have the journal to learn about, too.  Yeah, the commute is horrid, but otherwise it's working out so far.  The editing, the being involved in publishing something, is exactly what I would have chosen to do if I could have chosen anything.  And it fell into my lap in the 2010 economy.   Amazing. All I need to do is convince the recently relocated organization to up and move to Alabama and I'm all set.

Pedicures.  Google chat.  Did I mention Auburn football?  The Toomer's Corner cam on the auburnalabama.org website that shows me it's light mornings in Auburn when it's still dark here.  The fact that in a couple of days the days will start getting longer.

"Single Ladies."  "I Gotta Feeling." And Lady Gaga.  Swear to God.

Anyway.  Another week gotten through, and I'm more comfortable at the new job, learning more and more, becoming more familiar with everything there (not the acronyms, though.  There are so many acronyms, most of the time I have no idea what any of them mean).  I'm working on my nefarious plan to be efficient and quick and pleasant and to become indispensable as an editor/proofreader.  Had a bad moment one day this week while researching medical device providers as potential exhibitors for the annual meeting and came across a familiar name, the manufacturer of Jerry's mediport, which took my mind spinning straight back to that hellish hospital room and left it there a while.  But I'm doing okay.  So far, recently, when the dark moments come, they aren't as dark, and they leave me with the awareness that they'll pass, and that better times are possible.

The next three work weeks will be shorter ones - four days of work next week, three the week after that, and four the week after that.  Then comes 2011.  Which, based on the unexpected improvements the end of the Year of Suck, 2010, has brought, I can only hope will be better and better... for all of us.

Half a year

It's six months.  Half a year.  13 June was six months ago.

I find I don't really know what to say about that after all.  My life has changed so many times since that day, after having changed so many times in the months leading up to that day.  Yeah, I know: life is change.  This year has certainly been lively, then.

I just don't even know what to say.  Jerry's been dead for half a year.  It's just unbelievable, "inconceivable!" as he'd say, quoting The Princess Bride, one of his favorite movies.  I'm writing about Jerry being dead and I'm smiling, remembering the way he'd say that, "Inconceivable!"  I'm just so baffled by myself these days: I just seem to be way ahead of schedule in so many ways.  I was sure I wouldn't be able to smile at memories of Jerry for a long time, and yet here I am, at "six months out," as the widowed say, and I'm smiling.  Who am I?  Why am I coping?  Why do things seem to be getting better?  Are they really?  Is it all going to come crashing down?  Is it all an illusion?

I did shed a few tears this morning.  It's not all sunshine and daisies and Cam Newton all the time.  But it is sunshine and daisies and Cam Newton for far more of the time than I thought would be possible at this point in my journey.  Is it the Prozac?  Is it the Prozac, too, that's got me waking up every single night between 3 and 4 a.m. and lying there unable to go back to sleep for what feels like forever?  I can't remember the last really good night's sleep I've had.  It's still worth the tradeoff if it's the Prozac that's responsible for a lot of how well I seem to be doing.  I hope it's not just the Prozac, though.  I really want to be doing this well for reals, as the kids say.

My parents were here for a visit this past weekend, and they got an up-close-and-personal look at what a new convert to Auburn football is like (and I'm still walking around free, so they must have taken it all okay... even after I had us watching the entire long drawn-out Heisman ceremony coverage on ESPN Saturday evening). Yesterday we went to a sing-along Messiah in the next town northwest of here, my third time doing a sing-along Messiah (first was at Lincoln Center when I lived on 73rd Street in the late 1990s, second was when Jerry and I went to the same little one as yesterday, I don't remember what year).  This year I was struggling with remnants of the laryngitis I had in Alabama - my speaking voice is back, but my singing voice is still iffy, but through a combination of 1) sage advice not to sing at all in the days leading up to the sing-along and 2) Cepacol lozenges, I was able to sing... but I have vowed that next time I do that I will know all the alto parts of all the choruses (even the ones they skip!), and not have to guess at half of them!

I'm doing okay.  I think this is the conclusion I'm drawing at six months out.  I didn't expect to be.  But I am.  I can't help but be afraid that it will all disappear and I'll be back in the black nightmare of the summer and early fall, which I'm really in anyway but just don't realize it.  But meanwhile I'm... doing okay.  I posted on Facebook today that I think Jerry would be proud of how I'm doing in a world without him in it.  And I think he would be.  He'd be amazed that I now have an idea where Touhy and Mannheim are, that I'm driving on I-90 every weekday, that I've driven by myself twice to and from Alabama now, that I'll be moving there someday.  That I'm making plans.  That I've survived.  That I want to survive, and do more than survive.  That I want my life to be worth living, that I already feel like it is.

I'm not without guilt at feeling better.  Not at all.  I even feel sad that I feel better, as crazy as that may sound - that I'm going on living and feeling better without Jerry here, after witnessing Jerry suffer so horribly, after watching my sweet honey die.  I never imagined "better" would be a word that would in any way apply to me, ever.  It does, now.  And how is that possible?  I must be a hell of a lot more resilient than I ever imagined.  I don't feel resilient.  But I'm still here.  And still moving forward.  And finding who I am again outside of the wrecked shell in that photo I posted on 21 June.  I'm not that person anymore.  I'm grateful not to be that person anymore.  And I have a sneaking suspicion that having lived with Jerry for 11 years, having been his wife for 10 years, having been loved by him and loving him, have been hugely responsible for making me the person who can now see herself with a future.  It occurred to me the other day that no matter how bad I might ever end up feeling about myself - and I think most of us have moments when we're not so fond of aspects of ourselves - no matter how down on myself I might get, I need only remember that Jerry Enright loved me - and that being so, there must be something worthwhile and basically okay about me.  Because Jerry Enright was an incredibly special, especially worthwhile person.  And his love was something I'll treasure for as long as I live.

And those are the thoughts I bring to the half-year mark.

AU Compilation - SEC Championship update!

[The video that was here seems to have been removed from YouTube!  Hmmmph!  So I direct you back to the video posted on 14 November: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKY9FhpJbSE - hope this one will stay put!]

War Eagle!

Toyotathon

Thanks to WiFi at the Toyota dealership, I'm going to be able to update the blog for the first time in what seems like forever.  For a change, life took over and got in the way of my sitting at the computer long enough to update this blog - a nice thing to have happen, to be so busy, especially with my having had to leave Alabama and come back to Illinois.  But to get the Big Decision news out of the way at the start, I've come away from my 2½ weeks in Alabama absolutely certain that I will be moving there.  I don't know exactly when that will happen.  But it will.  I can start making longer-term plans.  It's where I want to be.  Which just goes to show how many unexpected, strange turns a life can take.

(My entire life, as I look back on it, has been a serious of unexpected, strange turns.  The other day Lynne and I were thinking about the many things about my life which, if you had told them to the 1984 version of myself, as she graduated from college, she never would have believed.  The latest being that the 2010 version of herself would be a widow planning a move to Alabama after having spent over a decade in Illinois.  Although, now that I remember it, the 1984 version of myself had already heard Sacred Harp singing and owned a copy of the 1971 revision of the book and was anxious to find a way to sing it herself - so maybe there could have been a way some of this would have made sense to her, how she could have ended up knowing and loving so many people in a state she had up to that time never been anywhere close to visiting, how she could have ended up married to a Sacred Harp singer in Illinois.  But all the twists and turns and events that got her here would have been unimaginable.)

Thanksgiving in Huntsville was lovely - a houseful of kind and friendly people, excellent food (thanks again, Karen, for going out of your way and making a separate dish of delicious vegetarian dressing for me!  And next time I'm sure the rolls will not be at all mistaken for Zwieback...), and love.  The next day Lynne and I actually had to brave the Black Friday hordes, because I had gotten her an Auburn hoodie in the wrong size and we had to exchange it at a store in a mall.  It wasn't as bad as I'd feared (we must have been between the early-morning rush and the late-sleeper-inners), and seeing large numbers of people walking around the mall in Auburn and Alabama regalia was fun... in preparation for the Iron Bowl, and the annual intense rivalry of the Auburn-Alabama game.  That event brought another houseful of people and more food, and the game itself provided a first half of subdued anxiety followed by the thrill of Auburn's comeback and victory in the second half.

By the end of Friday, a cold had caught up with me, and my voice was mostly gone, which carried over to the Alabama State Sacred Harp Singing Convention for the next two days in Birmingham, where I sang tenor in a lower register when I sang at all, my alto range nowhere to be found.  The Miracle of the Prozac continued, though, and I was able to accept Rod's generous invitation to sing with him for the deceased during the memorial lesson, and then lead 77t for Jerry at the very end of the convention, both without getting upset or crying or trembling.  (I think it must have stunned a lot of people who had last seen me at Lookout Mountain in August - not to mention the total difference in my appearance, as back in August I desperately needed a haircut and was wearing no makeup, and now I've come over all girlified, as Jerry might have put it.)  Saturday evening I went with friends and saw my first-ever 3-D movie, the Disney film Tangled, which was fun, but I was so tired that I'm afraid I might have slept through some of it - I know towards the end I was more focused on keeping my eyes open than on watching the screen.

Back to Illinois Sunday evening (with an overnight in Scottsburg, IN) and Monday, with the probably inevitable emotional crash when I got back to the house - not helped by a notice to Jerry from his dermatologist's office reminding him of an appointment in December, which I had to call to cancel and explain that he'd died.  I was afraid the Alabama version of me, whom I preferred so much to the sad, desolate Illinois version I'd been when I left for Huntsville earlier in November, had disappeared as quickly as she'd arrived, but the next morning when I got up for work, Alabama Girl somehow was back - not perfectly happy, of course, but not so desolate.  Possibly an ongoing tribute to the miracle that Prozac seems to be for me, but I hope it's not just the Prozac - I hope it's progress, too.  I hope it's hope.  I've restarted my new job, and so far I think it's going well.  I'm having to learn a lot quickly, as I'm going to be taking over a lot of tasks and projects for a woman who's about to have a baby and go on 6-8 weeks of maternity leave.  I've also already done some editing (among other things, saving some unwitting doctor from discussing one of the most important "tenants" of the Hippocratic Oath in an article that will be seen by the 5,000+ members of the society), and I can't help it - editing for me is a combination of compulsion, natural instinct and sheer fun, and I get very nerdily excited about getting to do it.

The commute hasn't gotten any more fun, and with today's first snowfall of the year, I imagine it's only going to get worse (in combination with the road construction all around the office building, which has already been making things annoying).  I leave home in the morning when it's still dark out, and it's dark again before I leave work in the evening.  If I don't make an effort to get out of the building at lunchtime, it's likely I won't see daylight all day long, since I'm in an inner office space without windows, and the uninspiring lunch room in the basement of the building is also windowless (I told one of the IT guys that I expect my skin to turn green from the fluorescent lighting any time now.  I've made sure to put a desk lamp on my desk to add some less harsh, lower light).  The choices for the way-too-long one-hour lunch break are to get in my car and drive somewhere, stores most likely, walk for no reason and to nowhere interesting in the immediate vicinity of the building (and, now, in bad weather), sit at my desk through lunch (which, when I've done it in former jobs, has inevitably led to working through lunch - not a good option), or sit in the lunch room cave in the basement.

But the job is interesting so far, and the people are nice, and having somewhere to go every day, no matter how annoying it is to get there, is all good.  Not to mention a paycheck!  And the medical insurance I'll have starting next year, which can't happen soon enough, given how appallingly useless the individual policy I have has turned out to be.

***************

Back at home now, earlier than I expected.  The car needs a new passenger door handle assembly, which they didn't have in stock.  The guy there told me they didn't want me to drive the car because the passenger door could open at any time - glad I didn't know that when I drove back from Birmingham, or back and forth to work four days this week on I-90.  The rear hatch lock just needed cleaning and lubricating, so that's good.  But he said the car also needs a new timing belt and spark plugs, and I don't know any better or have a good immediate way of finding out if this is true or not, so I'm taking his word for it, and will be the poorer by another thousand dollars by the time all this is taken care of, with any luck on Tuesday.  Although I have to say, I'm enjoying driving the 2011 RAV4 they've given me as a free loaner.  I know, amazing that a 2011 SUV is more fun to drive than a 1999 minivan, right?  (If this scenario went as they'd want it to, I'm sure I'd be going back right away to trade in the Sienna on a new RAV4.  Sorry, Toyota.  Not now.  Someday I'll drive something else... but not while I'm sorting out everything else in my life as well.)

Steve the contractor should be here some time this afternoon to fix (or try to fix) my kitchen faucet, which the other night started leaking water out the bottom when I turned it on.  I do know how lucky I am to have a contractor I can turn to and know that he's reliable and trustworthy - wonder if he'll want to move to Alabama whenever I do that myself!  (My father keeps asking if he does work in NYC.)

I believe that's all y'all mostly caught up. This week I heard back from the woman at the Botanical Garden in Huntsville, and I've made all the arrangements for the memorial brick for Jerry there - I was limited to two lines of fourteen letters/spaces each, and came up with IN OUR HEARTS for the first line, and J JERRY ENRIGHT for the second.  Pretty much says it all.  I don't know when it will be in place - they'll let me know when it is.

And finally... today is Game Day!  The SEC Championship Game coverage starts at 3 p.m. my time, and the Good Lord willing and the snow don't rise and cover my satellite dish, I'll be glued to the TV (I've already brushed snow off the dish once this morning).  It won't be as fun as watching the Iron Bowl was down in Huntsville (and with any luck not as nerve-racking as that game was, either), and sho nuff nowhere near as fun as being at the Auburn-Georgia game was, but I'm still excited about it.  War Eagle!  Gooooo Tigers!

Gratitude

I've never been one who's ever stopped at Thanksgiving to really feel all the reasons she has to be thankful.  I've thought about it, I guess, but I've never felt it.  And this year, I was certain that when November rolled around I would have no reasons to be thankful at all.

And yet.

I find now, the day two days before Thanksgiving*, that I'm full of reasons to be thankful after all.  I can say, without feeling like I'm just mouthing it, without feeling like I'm going through the motions, that I'm truly, deeply grateful to my family and friends (including, in this electronically-connected world, family and friends that I've never met in person, some of whose names I don't even know) for holding me up this past year and for continuing to hold me up.  Without you all, I cannot imagine what my life would have been like by now.  You've helped me in ways I can bring to mind and in ways I probably don't even realize.  I am here, at five and a half months past Jerry's death, and able to see a future.  In June I never imagined that would be so.  In June I was sure that the world without Jerry in it would be dark and hopeless forever.

Yesterday I visited the Huntsville Botanical Garden.  From the first moments I began walking through it, I knew Jerry would have loved that place.  So many plants he'd talked about, told me about, planted in our yard or wanted to.  Beautiful Japanese maples - Jerry adored Japanese maples.  Maybe halfway through my walk, I reached the Botanical Garden's Garden of Hope; wondered what it was; walked over to a placard and began to read.  And immediately burst into tears, because the placard started out "This garden provides a place where cancer patients and their families may express their hopes, dreams, fears and faith through the color and artistry of beautiful flowers, trees and plants."  I sat on a bench in the Garden of Hope and cried for a while, feeling such a convergence of things: plants, Alabama, cancer, Jerry's absence.  When I got up from the bench, I noticed a brick walkway leading to the garden, with some of the bricks bearing dedications in honor or in memory of people.  And before I'd left the Botanical Garden I had decided that I would have one of those made for Jerry.  He has no headstone, as his remains were scattered at Pine Grove, and he loved plants, and he loved Alabama, and I know he would have loved the Botanical Garden.  So I've e-mailed them and requested information about dedicating a brick to Jerry there, a physical memorial in the world that I and everyone who loved Jerry will be able to see and visit in that beautiful place.

So, I think, it's not that I'm no longer sad.  I still cry about Jerry.  But it feels like it's coming from a different place now.  (Karen pointed out a few days ago something I'd totally forgotten about, that the Prozac might be working, now, too... and if that's the case, all hail Fluoxetine!)  It feels like a more sane, calm place than the insane, dark, dreadful, painful chasm I'd felt I was carrying around inside me.  I'm still afraid I'm somehow just ignoring that chasm right now and will find it again, probably back in Illinois.  I think I'm ready, though, when I get back there, to make a start on facing reality - start to go through the house, through Jerry's things, start to deal with the present as it really is.  It won't be easy, and it might take a while, but I think I'm ready to start.

And for that, I'm thankful.  For the progress I've made so far, for the ability to want to live again, for the ability to find joy in life again.  For everyone who is supporting me and helping me on this path.  And for having had Jerry in my life for almost 12 years.  I miss you, honey.  I love you.  I'll never stop loving you.

*ETA: I have been doing this all day, thinking today was Wednesday.

Milestones

I led Jerry's "Sunday song" at a small but really good one-day singing over in Winston County today.  I didn't cry.  I didn't even feel like crying.  There was no trembling, no sniffling, no weeping.  It was also the first time I ever attended an all-day singing on my own, without Jerry and/or other friends traveling to it with me.  (That there were friends there when I got to the singing was just another example of why Alabama is a balm for my soul, if I may phrase it that way.)

So I wonder if the part where I could get through 77t calmly, as if it were any other song in the book, was a major milestone, or just another moment in whoever else's life I seem to be leading down here while my own is off hidden somewhere.  I hope it was a milestone.  I hope when I go back to Illinois in a week I'll take this... this... whatever it is...  back with me.  (Except that it feels so different from what I was feeling before that I can't help thinking it's just another grief-related weirdness.   I hope I'm wrong.  But it's hard to trust any other feeling than sadness these days.  "For some odd reason," as Jerry would have said.)

And that whole "going back to Illinois" thing?  Do. Not. Want.

Still having a lovely time down here.  I've visited sites in the old, pretty historic section of Huntsville, including a tour of the Howard Weeden House (didn't know who Howard Weeden was before last week.  Google her - yes, her - if you're curious), I tracked down a pair of b.o.c. boots that fit for a discount price at Belk (and yes, this was days after I posted on Facebook that I was done shopping on this trip.  And yes, this does now mean that I arrived in Alabama with two pairs of shoes in my bags and will be returning to Illinois with five.  And yes, this does mean that I am NOT BUYING ANY MORE SHOES FOR... SOME UNDEFINED PERIOD OF TIME THAT I'M NOT BEING MORE SPECIFIC ABOUT SO I DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO STICK TO IT.  So there.

Yesterday Karen and David treated me to the national touring company of Fiddler on the Roof, which, despite having seen the movie version of enough times for none of it to be unfamiliar to me, I'd never seen on stage, except for a bizarre Russian translation of it I saw in Moscow in 1991 (which decided it was better to have Tevye accept Chava and Fyedka almost immediately.  Not sure exactly what the thinking behind that change would have been in what was still the Soviet Union:  I suppose it could have been pushing the myth that everyone gets along well with everyone else in the land of Friendship of the Peoples).  This production was a lot of fun and very well done.  As seems to be pretty standard, for some reason the Tevye had a sort of undefinable Yiddish/European accent, while the rest of the characters all sounded basically generically American, except for the Golda, who sounded like a New Yorker.  Very mysterious.

And today I drove, as I said, off to Winston County, a couple of hours southwest of here, via a route that took me through the lovely William B. Bankhead National Forest (William Bankhead, I now know, was the 47th Speaker of the US House of Representatives and the father of Tallulah).  The singing I attended was so solid and just really good.  If I lived in Alabama, just think of how often I could just get in my car, drive for a couple of hours, sing like that, and then drive home again.

(I have an interesting-sounding job waiting for me in Illinois.  A job in this dreadful economy.  A job that will give me editing experience newer than my old editing experience, which is from 1987.  A job that will include full medical benefits beginning in January.  I haven't sold my house yet.  I haven't been capable of even going through Jerry's things yet, let alone preparing the house for sale... in this dreadful economy.  All of which is by way of reminding myself of why I'll be heading back to Illinois.

For now.  For now.)

And by the way, Sugarland's "Stuck Like Glue" is stuck in my head... just like they promised.

And one more thing, speaking of country music.  I've been driving around flipping among country stations (I like a place with more than one country station) and today had a fun laugh at myself, when I heard the (not very good) Blake Shelton song "Who Are You When I'm Not Looking?" twice en route to Natural Bridge.  The lyrics include the lines "Do you pour a little something on the rocks?/ Slide down the hallway in your socks?/ When you undress, do you leave a path?/ Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?"  First time it came on, I heard "Then sing through your nose in a public bath," which struck me as weird, but people do sing in the bathtub, after all.  On a second, clearer hearing I got a good few minutes of laughing aloud out of the deal.

Laughter.  From me.  It's happened a lot down here.  I like it.

Make it so

I've never been a Trekkie, or Trekker, or whatever the chosen term is for the Star Trek fanatic.  But I occasionally enjoy watching episodes of the original show, and The Next Generation (never got around to any of the other series, though), and I liked the remake movie.  And of course there's no denying Jean-Luc Picard.

Jean-Luc Picard came to mind just now because I was wishing I could just say "Make it so" about who I am now and the feelings I have, and who I want to be instead, and how I want to feel.  I want so desperately to be normal.  Although I don't really know what "normal" means, and I'm not sure that word has ever applied to me anyway, even at the best of times.  I'm not even sure it applies to anyone at all: everyone has his quirks, his differences, his things.  At least, I hope he does.

So I suppose I need to find another word for what I want so desperately to be.  Alicia had a good word in a comment on a post from the other day: "contentment."  What I want desperately to be is contented.  Yes, happy would be good, but contented would be even better.  Calm, at peace... contented.  The definitions you get when you Google the word "contented" all boil down to "satisfied with things as they are."  I can't think of anything better than that.

I walk around feeling like there's a huge sign posted on my forehead reading "DAMAGED."  I feel pretty different from the rest of the world most of the time anyway, but now I feel as if people can just look at me and see it, as if they're thinking "Wow - damaged girl.  Not like us."  Again, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that mostly everyone feels damaged in some way or other, to some extent or other - life has a way of doing that to you if you live long enough.  But I feel like this past year has slapped me around so much that I'm not even sure what condition I'm in at the moment.  And since I can't tell, I guess that's why I feel like other people might be seeing what I can't see myself.  Damage.

The thing is, though, I've already written before that I don't want to stay this way - and last weekend showed me that I really don't want to stay this way.  Laura aptly said that the degree and kind of fun I had this past weekend was almost an "out-of-body experience," which was at times exactly how it felt - as if this was someone else's life I was suddenly leading, someone not in my body, someone whose existence hadn't been torn apart five months before.  Someone who was able to laugh and jump up and down and sing and cheer and enjoy.  And I want to be that person.  I think I may be someday (hard to believe.  Hard to believe.  Hard to believe).  Except that I feel so guilty, so much like something is very wrong, I'm not supposed to want this, I'm not supposed even to imagine it's a possibility, because this is a world without Jerry in it now.

Need to concentrate on trying to live in the moment.  He would have told me that.  Breathe.

Landmines in the Age of Social Networking

I think this qualifies as a mild panic attack - at any rate, I'm sitting here waiting for my heart to slow down, because right now it's racing.

Because I just changed my Facebook "Relationship Status" to "Widowed."

It's probably more than a little insane that I feel guilty, as if somehow this negates my entire marriage, or means I'm being horribly disloyal to Jerry, or forgetting him, or leaving him behind.  Intellectually I know none of this is true.  Intellectually I know it's just a statement of a hideous fact.  "Intellectually" comes into things less frequently than I might wish.

I thought it was time.  I thought it would be easier to do it when I was far from home, or from the house that sort of is a home but sort of isn't anymore.  I'm thinking maybe I should have waited until there were other people in the house, just to calm me down a bit.  (Maybe it's time for a Xanax!  No... I'll wait it out.)

I think this is one of those posts that go into the category of "therapy."

And... slight crash

Something reminded me of Jerry's time in the hospital just now.  Not that I'd forgotten it, but it wasn't right there in the front of my mind, and then it was.  I'm not happy to be sad: I liked who I was these past few days.  Obviously a ways to go before I'm out of the woods, but this past weekend gave me a glimpse that that's even possible.  Which gives me hope.  Which I never imagined I'd have, ever.

But I do miss that man.

It's been another mostly gloomy, rainy day in Huntsville, although the sun did peek through a time or two.  I went out this morning and went to the Space Center and spent a few hours being overwhelmed by rocket science and following the history of the space program through the Apollo missions. (And noticing not so much discussion about what Wernher von Braun was up to during that pesky Second World War.)  Not to state the extremely obvious, but the Saturn V rocket is HUGE.  Anyway, Jerry and I had watched The Right Stuff some time this spring, so it was fun to learn a bit more about it all.  And the exhibit of the LEM and the moon rock reminded me of seeing a similar exhibit, at the Smithsonian perhaps?  Obviously it was some time in the late 1960s or early 1970s, back when we were all so excited about the space program.  (Yes, I'm old.)

Did some grocery shopping and then came back here.  Tomorrow I'll drive around and see more of the city.  It's supposed to be nicer out tomorrow.

Stand up and yell, Hey!

It's hard to trust fun, after the year this has been.  Last year at this time it would never, ever have occurred to me that my life would be totally uprooted, changed, that a year later Jerry would have gone through the hell that he did and at this point would have been dead for five months.  It would have been insane, unthinkable.  I don't remember the exact dates, but last year around this time we were in New Mexico on our short frequent flyer vacation to Albuquerque and Santa Fe.  I look at the pictures from that trip now and I seem to see weariness in Jerry where I never saw it before.  It's good that we mostly can't know our futures - imagine if we'd known then what was to come, and so, so soon.

With all this pain, all this sadness, all this missing Jerry... what do I do with a weekend like I just had?  How do I explain to myself the ability to have fun, to enjoy myself?  Because there's no doubt about it: I had a really, really fun weekend, and I really enjoyed myself.  I don't even understand how I got from June to here in these five short months.  And it scares me, a lot: it reminds me of the numb feeling in a way, in the sense that I know there are painful, searing feelings somewhere, and just because I'm not feeling them at this moment doesn't mean they're gone forever.  If they don't return any second now, I know for sure they'll be back when I head back to Illinois in a couple of weeks.

But for now, for this moment... I'm okay.  I'm even going to say more than okay.  The Auburn weekend was everything I could have hoped for and more (with the exception of losing my $3 sunglasses on the trip down on Friday, which monetarily obviously isn't a disaster, but is yet another example of the weirdness of my brain these days; and on Saturday I was totally convinced I'd lost my cellphone somewhere among the zillions of people on the grounds of Jordan-Hare Stadium, and it wasn't until after the game that Karen called Chuck at home and had him listen for my cellphone when she then called my number, and we learned that it had slipped out of my coat pocket into the cushions of Chuck's couch - so I did spend the game with intermittent thoughts about how annoying it was going to be to have to call Verizon and deal with all of this and pay for a new phone.  Still haven't quite gotten my brain to remember I don't have to call Verizon now).

But otherwise... fabulous, all weekend.  We drove down to the Plains by a scenic route, stopping at Cheaha State Park and looking out from the highest point in Alabama at the beautiful fall colors, which of course happen later here than up north, where most of the leaves on the trees around my house have already fallen, except for the euonymus, which had turned pink just before I left (probably very late even there, given the warm fall it's been so far).  Late lunch at the Pita Pit in Auburn (leaving which, I discovered my sunglasses were gone, and went back to look in their rest room - but I think they were gone before that.  Unless they still turn up in the Iveys' van.  You never know), then a walk around the downtown, including a photo op in front of the Auburn University sign and Samford Hall:

Lemonade at Toomer's Drugstore, a stop in at J&M bookstore (I'll have to put the AU magnet on the car today!), then, if I remember right, we went to the tailgate site to meet up with some of Karen and David's friends and drop off food Karen had brought.  After that, another friend's housewarming, and then it was off to Auburn's brand new basketball arena, to watch Auburn's men's team struggle against UNC-Asheville and some bad refereeing.  Auburn is definitely a football school, not a basketball school, at least where the men are concerned.  We left before the end of the game, which Auburn lost after keeping a slight lead for most of it, by one point in overtime.  And I learned that Charles Barkley went to Auburn, as his retired number is displayed up high in the arena.  (Maybe Auburn used to be a basketball school?)

Saturday was Game Day!  I swear, it's like a huge holiday festival - what fun to have that atmosphere and excitement, to have an excuse for a big party.  The first order of the day was Tiger Walk, watching the team get off the bus and walk to the stadium.  I have no clue what the true story is with Cam Newton, of course, but it sure was exciting to see him, and I'll bet he's getting even more and louder support from the Auburn fans than ever.  Cheered for Chizik, too.  (Hi, I'm Karen and I'm an Auburn Tiger.) (Hi, Karen.  Because, yeah, it does feel like a sudden addiction!)  After Tiger Walk we watched the band play a while, then when they stopped we parked ourselves on a corner and had a bite to eat.  Then headed towards the site of the Four Corners Pep Rally, and that's when I realized I didn't have my phone with me, and the undercurrent of concern about it began and ran under the rest of the day.  It didn't interfere with anything... okay, a little (I'm a worrier.  Always have been).  But we watched the pep rally and chanted and cheered and then walked back a ways to see if maybe the phone was on the ground somewhere we'd been.  Really, I didn't used to be such a bubblehead.  It's slightly scary to be one now.

To Jordan-Hare, then, and the first sighting as you walk in the entrance to your section is just incredible.  It's huge, and the field is so green, and there are already so many people in orange and navy blue (and some in Georgia red and black) filing in.  We were there for the band's march around (as the name implies, the marching band circles the entire stadium), the introduction of the teams (huge cheer for Cam), and all the pregame stuff.  So many traditions that are all new to this Johnny-come-lately Auburn fan, but exciting and moving nonetheless, like seeing Nova, a golden eagle ("War Eagle VII"), loop down towards the field (and the eagle food that must have been waiting there for him), watching Aubie, the Tigers' mascot, and the incredible band and drum majors (wish I could have seen Stuart as drum major), finishing singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" and looking up to see two Air Force fighters streak over the stadium.  And singing the fight song over and over, and chanting "A-U-B-U-R-N, goooooo Tigers!" and just generally feeling like a part of something exciting and enormously fun.

Then the game - nerve-racking, as Cam scored an immediate early touchdown but then Georgia pulled ahead.  I'd always heard TV announcers talk about subdued crowds, but it was amazing to experience it - everyone got quiet (except people like the guy behind me, who kept yelling "GO DAWGS!" for most of the game), and I felt tired and unable to yell or shake the shaker I'd borrowed from Karen (I was a vision in borrowed orange Friday and Saturday, while yesterday I was in my own blue AU shirt, picked up from the sale rack at the J&M bookstore).  The game was tied at halftime.  Then in the second half the energy came back.  One of the high points (and I was so proud of myself afterwards when David asked what we thought the loudest cheer point was, and I got the one he was thinking of) was a Georgia attempt on a fourth down that didn't work.  Lots of standing up, sitting down, cheering, chanting, singing... so much fun.  They gave Bo Jackson (another person I'd heard of - go me) a plaque in honor of the 25th anniversary of his Heisman, and then Jackson was there to congratulate Mike Dyer for passing his freshman rushing record, and to congratulate the team when they won the game and clinched the SEC West.  When it was over, we stood in the stands for some time, watching video on the Jumbotron, then headed out to Toomer's Corner for the celebration (complete with toilet-papered trees - I lost the ability to throw somewhere around the 9th grade, but I did manage to get a roll into a tree!), then off for increasingly chilly tailgating under the stars.  Lots more stars visible in Auburn, AL than where I usually am, and I recognized my old friend Orion, one of the only constellations I can consistently find.

What a day!  I'm sure it would have been fun even if Auburn had lost, but to have them come from behind, extend their unbeaten record, and have Cameron Newton at the helm - even better!

And you'd think that'd be it for excitement, but at some point Karen had discovered I'd never been on a motorcycle and started agitating for Chuck to take me for a ride on his, and Sunday morning I finally put my fear aside and agreed.  So now I've even been on a motorcycle!  And the main thing I didn't expect was the vibration: by the end of the ride, which wasn't too long, I was beginning to lose feeling in my feet!  I can't imagine how you get used to this, especially on a longer ride.  But Chuck says you do.  I've never worn a motorcycle helmet before, either, and hadn't thought about the effort it takes not to let your helmet smack into the driver's helmet... also to make sure you keep your feet on the footrests so you don't accidentally melt your shoes on the tailpipe!  So as my feet got slightly numb, I began to think... Uh oh, potential for melted shoes if I can't keep my feet on these rests!  Also... if you lose traction on the footrests, is there a possibility of losing balance and causing a wreck?  But those thoughts didn't hang around long, and all in all it was totally fun.

Back to Huntsville with Richard, and I found myself putting last night's NFL games on the TV just for the sounds of the games.  I've found televised football games to be comforting background noise since I was a kid, and yesterday it was also a matter of withdrawal symptoms to contend with, now that I'm a totally zealous convert to Auburn football!  I'm glad I'll still be down here for the Iron Bowl, and will get to watch it with a house full of Auburn fans (and, I hear, possibly an Alabama fan or two).

*************

You see?  Excitement, fun... happiness?  Jerry's been dead for five months.  Jerry's still dead.  I'm still never going to see him again.  How is excitement, fun, happiness even possible in my life?

So yeah... it's scary.  But I'm trying to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

I had a fun weekend

In Alabama

Quick post, since tomorrow I'm heading off with Karen and David to Auburn and leaving the computer behind in Huntsville, and I wanted to let you all know I made it out of the hotel this morning safe and sound (and told the woman who checked me out what had happened - the phone kept ringing last night every so often, without me answering it, until I finally unplugged it - for which she was very apologetic and said she was certain it couldn't have been any of the hotel's staff, and hoped it wouldn't turn me against the hotel.  I didn't tell her I had no intention of staying there again).  Drove down to Huntsville, stopping first at a Zappos outlet store in Shepherdsville, KY - I didn't even know Zappos had brick-and-mortar stores, but this one is in a small section of a very large "fulfillment center," so I'm wondering if the shoes that end up in the outlet store are returns, or slightly damaged, maybe.  They looked fine, but there were very few in wide - I tried on a pair of heels in my size that were comfortable, but in a grey/taupe suede that just didn't do it for me, and I eventually left empty-handed, which was fine, given what happened later... next stop was the Galleria mall in Franklin, TN, where I went to the MAC counter in Belk (which, if you're like me, you'd never heard of if you hadn't been in the South) and picked up some concealer (why my skin has decided that 48 is a perfectly good age to keep breaking out - not that it's ever stopped since I hit puberty - I don't know) and Viva Glam V lipstick (now a big fan of both V and VI).  Then on to Huntsville, where Karen told me a surgical scrubs store was having a huge sale on Danskos, so we went over there and I got a desperately-not-needed pair of deep crimson patent clogs for $87 (if you wear Danskos, you know that price is unheard-of good).

So, as I say, off to Auburn tomorrow: I'll get to have a look around the town during the day, basketball in the new arena tomorrow night, tailgating and the Auburn-Georgia game Saturday.  We'll stay with Karen's brother in Auburn.  Karen coached me through the fight song and some cheers this evening, but I'm still a bit shaky (it would help if I could start the song off consistently singing "fly DOWN the field" instead of "fly UP the field").  I'll come back to Huntsville on Sunday with Richard, while Karen and David go on south for a few days in New Orleans.  It's hard to get it through my head that this is a vacation.  While until last week I hadn't been working since July, none of those weeks of unemployment were or ever felt like a vacation.  And it's extremely, extremely odd to find myself not having to worry about work... to remember that I actually have a job now.  And I can actually not feel guilty about not working while I'm down here.  (Er... except for the part where I'm not being paid during this vacation, of course, but since I already started working, I'm not eligible for unemployment during it either... small price to pay!)

OK, everyone, let's practice... all together now... "War Eagle, hey!"

Brooks, KY

Heard on the car radio today: a few notes of "The Little Drummer Boy," before I surfed away in horror.  Seen on top of a car on I65 today: a Christmas tree.  Tomorrow: Veteran's Day.  I guess I should be grateful that at least they waited until after Hallowe'en.

In the Baymont Inn in Brooks, KY again.  I left the house at about 11:20 a.m. and had a smooth ride here, getting here around 6:45 local time.  Am now watching the CMAs.  Will head to Huntsville tomorrow.

ETA: Bet if I had checked in with Jerry, I wouldn't have just gotten a call from some random male saying "Hi.  I was wondering if you wanted to talk."  I said "I think you have the wrong number" and hung up on him.  No clue who it was, but my first thought was to call the front desk and complain... until I stopped to wonder who else but the guy at the front desk would know my room number and be able to call me.

Think I'll find a different hotel next time I drive south.  And in addition to the lock thingie on the door, I also have the ironing board leaning up under the door handle.  Sigh.  Because being a widow isn't horrible enough on its own, I have to deal with this sort of shit?

Being bad

I'm being bad - it's getting on to 11:30 p.m. and I haven't begun packing for my trip - which, yes, starts tomorrow.  I need to pack, I need to water all the plants and make sure the Aqua Globes are full, I need to set the VCR for 3 episodes of Friday Night Lights on DirecTV, I need to leave a note for myself to reset the thermostat for when I'm away.  What else...?  I have a list somewhere amidst the catastrophe of papers that is the top of my desk.  But I'm not leaving at the crack of dawn, since I'm only going just south of Louisville tomorrow and I don't want to hit rush hour traffic anyway (enough of that on regular weekdays, including an accident on I90 this morning, complete with fire trucks and ambulances, that slowed me down a bit; just missed one coming home, I heard on the radio).  So I'll start packing tonight, but don't need to finish.  And I'm beat.

I did some actual editing today, although I'm not sure what Jim made of it - looked over the new employee manual that he's working on, made a few changes.  For instance, I get antsy when modifying clauses get all dangly... as in "As an employee of X, the company will give you 5 personal days per year."  Can't let 'em stand.  I don't know if that's the kind of thing they actually want me to do, or just find misspellings, or what.  But I guess he'll look at what I've done and let me know.  It felt funny to be doing that, because it doesn't feel like work to me - I find that kind of exercise too fun, like doing a puzzle, for it to feel like work.  Or I might just think that now, and eventually will find it tedious.   I have no idea. I also attended a meeting with a rep from the new company they're going to have do their newsletters and meeting programs, and at some point during the meeting I realized, Oh my God, I'm actually going to be working on assembling a publication - the very kind of work I'd been saying I wanted to be involved in, but hadn't done anything like it since 1987, and had no expectation of being able to get into any time soon.  And I send off my resume in response to a vague Craigslist posting for a receptionist position... and here I am now.

So strange.  So unexpected.  And for them also to say, Sure, go to Alabama until the end of the month, we'll wait for you... and for all this to happen in this economy?  This was just all so unlikely.  It's like it had to have a horrible commute and no daylight attached to it, to balance the rest of it out.

I'm probably being incoherent - I'm really tired, so I need to stop writing and pack a bit and go to bed.  Oh, except I need to put down that in a further expression of my brain going wonky, last night I dreamt I went to Auburn (not that I know what Auburn's like yet) and was looking for a copy of Sports Illustrated, because Cam Newton was going to be on the cover (I'm pretty sure I didn't make that last bit up - I think I read right before going to bed last night that he was going to be on the cover).  I think Cam was somewhere in the dream too.

So... getting ready (or should be getting ready) to head off.  Look for me on CBS on Saturday, me and 87,450 of my nearest and dearest, at Jordan-Hare Stadium, yelling "War Eagle! Hey!" and other things I haven't memorized yet.  I might be the one in the Yankees cap, that's how you'll recognize me, if I go ahead and wear it.  I'm sure it'll be easy to pick me out of the crowd.

And marking, that day, 5 months by date since Jerry died.  So much in my life is already different since then.  I feel so tossed around, buffeted, as I said before.  Glad to have fun things to look forward to, glad to be seeing good friends and singing in Alabama again, and sad to be doing this all without my honey.  To be doing absolutely everything without my honey.  For the rest of my life.

Buffeted.

Off I go.

Updating

Third day at the new job, and still not a lot going on for me yet.  The commute took about an hour each way - there on I90 to I294 to the Touhy exit, back via Touhy to Mannheim to Higgins and onto I90, then up 31 (there's road construction right next to the building, so nothing is easy and the traffic is lousy at the best of times.  Which it isn't at any time I'm driving around there).  All those street names that I used to hear on the radio traffic reports all the time, that never meant anything to me, now I'm driving on those roads.  I drive down 31 to get to I90 in the morning and my whole body aches to keep going on 31 down to Elgin, to the shop, to work there with Jerry again.  The shop to which I no longer have working keys, since they've changed the locks, and the shop that's had the remaining equipment cleared out of it by the landlord, since Seamus wasn't around to see the five-day notice he posted in October before legally getting rid of it.  Table saw, spray gun equipment, edge bander, panel saw, all those cans of stain and lacquer, I assume, all those wood samples, the signs in Jerry's handwriting that said "Backs" in the place where I stacked cabinet backs up against a wall when they'd been finished and were waiting to be assembled.  Who knows what else?  I wonder if they threw it all out, didn't bother to find out if it was all worth selling.  I can't imagine what Jerry would have thought.  I don't want to think about that.  And again I wonder, how many times can one heart break?

I spent my lunch break (or the part I actually took - found it hard to stretch it to an hour, but tomorrow I'll try harder) sitting on a bench in front of the office building, eating a sandwich I'd brought in and getting some sun.  There are no windows anywhere near where I sit, so unless I leave the building, I won't see daylight all day.  And it's dark out by the time I leave, now that we've set the clocks back.  Should have gotten an extra hour of sleep Sunday morning, but instead I woke up really early after going to bed really late and couldn't fall back to sleep, even though I was exhausted.

I need to pack for my trip to Alabama.  And yet, I haven't been able to make myself do it.  I'd say "I hate packing," but who doesn't?  Ah well.  I'm only driving to Kentucky on Wednesday, breaking the trip there again as I did in August, so I don't need to leave at the crack of dawn, so I can pack tomorrow evening and Wednesday morning.  Coming back I have a reservation to stop on the Sunday after Thanksgiving about halfway, in Indiana, so I don't have to drive the entire trip on the Monday and then go back to work Tuesday totally wrecked.

I miss my honey.

Wondering, again

How long is it going to be before I have a day where I don't cry after I get home from work and Jerry still isn't here?

Knowing, Believing, Understanding, Rambling

Tomorrow, if I'm counting right, will be 21 weeks since Jerry died.  I know he died.  I know he's dead.  I saw him die.  I haven't seen him in 21 weeks.  I have to keep blowing dust off his glasses - it seems I always go back to mentioning his glasses - as they sit there day after day on the nightstand, unworn by anyone.  I know.  I have copies of the death certificate.  They have his name on it.  They say things like "Decedent's Legal Name," "Metastatic Colon Cancer," "Acute Renal Failure Hydronephrosis," "Pleural Effusion," "Date Last Seen Alive."  I know what "decedent" means.

But I'm pretty sure I also still don't really believe it. Not really.  I know it, and I'm not an idiot, and I'm not insane (I don't think I'm insane.  I'm wearing shoes with fairly high heels and I'm following college football, and both of those things started after Jerry died, so I can't vouch for total sanity, though).  I know why I'm called a "widow" now instead of a "wife."  I know why I live alone.  I know why I'm taking Prozac.  I know why I've had to find a new job.  I know why I'm sad 100% of the time, even while I'm smiling at something, even when, amazingly enough, I'm laughing at something (caught part of an old Fawlty Towers episode this evening.  Jerry loved Fawlty Towers.  He loved imitating Manuel's "Que?" and Sybil's "Basil!"  I've seen all those episodes a million times and still laugh out loud at them).  I'm sad even when I'm asleep, in my dreams.  I know why my heart hurts.

But I think I just really still somehow think it's not real.  He's going to come back.  He's somewhere else right now.  I don't know where I think he is, but I just know he's coming back.  And I, who don't believe in an afterlife, even sometimes find myself thinking, It can't be, it just can't be, that I'm never, ever going to see him again.  Because he's the love of my life.  I waited 36 years to meet him.  I can't just have had 12 years of knowing him, 10 years of being his wife and then that's it, that's all I get.  I can't have been cheated of all the other decades I wanted, needed.  So I'll see him again, I start occasionally noticing myself thinking.  I know I won't see him again in this world, and I don't believe there's another one, but I wish so much that there were, just so I could be with Jerry in it.  I can't believe what I don't believe.  But there's nothing, nothing I ever wanted more than I wanted Jerry, and there's still nothing I want more than him.  And what kind of world would it be if the one thing I wanted more than anything else, anyone else, I could never, ever have?  A world worth living in?  Really?

I'm not going anywhere with this, not anywhere new, anyway.  It's the same refrain: he's dead, I know he's dead, I don't think I believe he's dead, and by the way, it hurts.  And the same fear that someday I will believe he's dead and then it will hurt more than I'll be able to bear.  I don't know how this works.  Maybe you go along and never totally believe it?  And every time you look at his photo and want to reach out and touch his cheek, play with his beard the way you used to, which drove him nuts - as you kept saying "I know there's got to be a dimple in there" and pretended to be looking for it and he squirmed - kiss his neck the way you always did - feel like you're even about to lift your hand to play with his earlobe, which also made him squirm, which was half the fun - the other half was playing with his soft earlobe - and look at the photos and think, This makes no sense, why can't I touch him? - you have to go again and again through the same process of observing as your mind reels around wondering where he is, goes back to those moments on 13 June, reviews what happened that hideous, dark, evil night, and then retreats again and puts distance between itself and that reality.

I'm rambling.

Anyway.

I had a haircut today (trim, same style - why did I find a style I liked after Jerry died, so he'll never ever see it?), then got some road food for my trip next week, as well as a thingie to play my iPod through the car's stereo: 3- or 4-year-old Nano, 12-year-old car, amazing they sell something for that, but they do, and the sales guy at Best Buy said it works better than what you have to use for a car that doesn't have a cassette deck.  Not sure if he was just being Mr. Salesman or if it's true.  Then I had an attack of Widow Brain by first asking the checkout guy if he still had my credit card, after he'd given it back to me, saying "It's been that kind of morning," then walking away with my wallet still sitting on the counter and the guy saying after me "Ma'am, is this yours?"  (I'm 48 and "Ma'am" still makes me want to look around for whoever else besides me the person saying it must be talking to.  When you still feel like you're 12 in so many ways, you expect "Miss" at most.)

Today's Auburn game wasn't televised, so I followed it on ESPN's website.  Next weekend I'll be there in person to watch 10-0 Auburn play Georgia at Jordan-Hare Stadium.  Remember what I said about not being able to vouch for sanity?  Getting really excited about the whole Auburn experience.  Oh, what would Jerry say???  I can just picture the smile he'd have on his face at his wife's latest craziness.  Plus I read that the game is sold out, which means a full stadium holding 87,451 people (per Google), which means I won't be able to drink anything for about 36 hours before the game (can you imagine what the lines for the bathrooms must be like???).

Didn't do much at work on Friday - answered occasional phone calls, learned how to use some office equipment that probably didn't exist 11 years ago when I last worked in an office - at least, not in the offices I worked in.  I skipped the lunch hour and left an hour early, getting on I90 a bit after 4 and getting home at 5.  I'm going to see if they'll be flexible on things like that - if perhaps I can take only 1/2 an hour for lunch and leave at 4:30, maybe?  Especially if the train doesn't work out.  I'm going to look into that more, but not until I get back at the end of the month.

I keep having panicky thoughts that I want to call them and say "Sorry, I made a mistake.  I can't do this."  Not that I'm incapable of the job - but that emotionally I'm a wreck, I come home from work and cry, I can't do it, I can't.  But no matter what job I took, no matter what huge changes I made, coming home and not having Jerry here, going to work somewhere that isn't Wood Bros., the result would be the same - upset and stress and tears.  It's a matter of adjusting, it's a matter of getting used to things, it's a matter of time.  I do still want to crawl under the covers and stay there, for a few years at least.  But I can't.

Tomorrow: I need to do laundry, I need to get things mostly packed for Alabama.  I already figured out how to call in to check the home phone for messages, although the main reason I had for planning to do that (in case the Unemployment people left a message) is suddenly and unexpectedly no longer an issue. I've suspended Fletnix until I get back.  The mail stop is set up.  I'll water the house plants and leave each with a full Aqua Globe and hope for the best.

Need to go take something for a headache.  It's almost 10, which means it's really almost 9, since tomorrow the clocks will be set back an hour.  Tomorrow my father and brother run the NYC Marathon, proving again that insanity really is a factor in my family of origin, so I shouldn't be surprised to find it in myself.  Not that particular flavor of insanity, though.  Not so far.

I miss Jerry.  That's what it all comes down to.

Long day

Left the house just before 7, got home at 6:30.  Clearly I need to find a different route back.  Except there might not be a better route - commuting by car in the Chicago area is just stupid and insane, but it's not like there are good alternatives, either.

First day at work was fine - not very busy.  The phone doesn't ring much until the association's annual meeting starts approaching in the spring, I was told.  Got a glimpse of some of the writing I might have to edit, and oh my God - and when you're talking about higher-ups in the organization, how are you supposed to tell them that they are just horrible, horrible writers?  Or (since that would be totally undiplomatic) at least to correct some of their writing?  (From what I've seen of what's been published in their newsletters, apparently no one does correct it - their stuff just gets published as is.  I'll have to have a talk with people about what they want from editing, when it comes time for me to do that.  Do they want it literate, or do they want it the way it was submitted?  Also, it would be nice if their website could consistently get the name of the organization correct, but I was warned during my initial phone interview that their website is awful.  Delved into it today and discovered he wasn't kidding.  Not sure when it's going to be redone.)

The building the office is in is in a residential area right up against an interstate and not far at all from O'Hare.  And there's nothing but a gas station and what I've been told is a bad restaurant that's in walking distance.  During the way-too-long hour I had for lunch I took a walk around the block, then sat in the "cafeteria" (a dining room attached to a depressing-looking deli) in the basement of the building and tried to read more of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.  I wonder if it reads this clunkily in Swedish.  I wonder what I'd be thinking of it if I didn't know it was a translation.  Everything seems just a bit off, just a bit forced.  (I hate to say this about a translation.  I wonder if my own translation work is this stilted.)  And I know people are just swept away by these books, but I'm still waiting to become interested (75 pages in).

The people at the office seem nice, although I'm stuck out in front in a separate room, so I'm not sure how much interaction I'll ever have with them, except as they walk by on their way to the bathroom.

(Oh, interesting, in a depressing sort of way: Jim, the executive director, mentioned that he likes hiring people with experience, and the fact that I've been out of this kind of work for 11 years was a factor in my favor.  He also said he could understand being nervous, and noticed my hands shook when I picked up a mug of tea during my interview.  Sigh.  Yes, my hands shook.  Because my hands always shake.  It's called Essential Tremor.  Puts me in the same category as Katharine Hepburn, which I suppose means that if I live long enough, I'll eventually shake as much as she did.  Anyway, I told him it was Essential Tremor, and if he doesn't know what that is, he didn't say so.  But it's not fair to be thought to be nervous even when I'm not... even though I probably was... but not as nervous as he thought I was.)

Anyway.  Drove home through drizzling rain, as it got dark, took an hour and a half to get home, and felt sadder and sadder that Jerry wasn't in the car next to me, that I wasn't coming home from Wood Bros., Inc. Custom Cabinetmakers, that Jerry wasn't home waiting for me.  I know I'm in the middle of several of the most stressful things that can happen to a person (death of loved one, change of jobs), and I know there will be ups and downs and more downs on this journey, as they always call it, but man, is it hard.  This job looks promising, albeit with the horrible commute and unappealing location, and it probably isn't wrong that I said yes to it, even though I just want to climb under the covers and stay there for the next few years.  But I got home this evening and drove into the garage and sat there in the car saying out loud "I want to go home."  Jerry was my home.  I want to go home.

To a Mouse

I hear you in there.  And I'm real sorry about that rat poison.

Anna

One of the blogs I subscribe to is Gardencourt, written by Anna McGarrigle (or Anna Lanken as I think I read she goes by in her private life).  Yesterday Anna posted about visiting Kate's grave and about what's being done to the cemetery it's in (basically it's being turned into a subdivision).

Last night I dreamt I was trying to sing with Anna - stand in for the voice that was missing, Kate's voice.  It wasn't working.

Sigh.  More dreams that fall into the category of Too Ridiculously Obvious.

In other news, I watched What's Love Got To Do With It last night (after obsessively watching a YouTube video from the 1960s of the Ike and Tina Turner Revue doing "River Deep Mountain High" last week,  I decided to Fletnix the movie, which I'd never seen), and lost it entirely when Anna Mae discovers Buddhism.  Always sort of interesting to see what's going to set me off.  Nichiren Buddhism wasn't the branch that Jerry was interested in - but close enough, I guess.

Today's my last day as an unemployed person (I still am so surprised about it that I hesitate to write that, as if maybe I've made the whole thing up), although I won't be paid for the time I'm away, which seems fair to me.  I went out yesterday and got a few more items to eke out my office wardrobe, since I'm guessing jeans, sweatshirts and lacquer-covered Doc Martens aren't going to be appropriate.  Based on what I saw in my interview, the dress code at the office appears to be more on the casual side - Jim, the executive director who hired me, was wearing a sweater over his business shirt, and no tie, and the other two people I talked to weren't dressed too fancy - but I'll have to take a little time to see what is appropriate, and in the meantime I now have a couple of skirts and a couple of shirts, and two more pairs of black Gap "premium" pants - which will NOT, unlike their predecessor, end up in the dryer.  Yeah, those black pants very clearly say "line dry" on the label, and I had washed them at least 5 times before this past weekend without incident.  Did laundry Saturday, hadn't gotten around to hanging up the clean clothes yet, was going to sleep Sunday night when I suddenly realized I had no memory of hanging the black pants to dry when I took them out of the washing machine.  Because, of course, I hadn't.  Tried them on Monday, and they were now too short and too snug (although they still close, which is a miracle of some sort).  So I called the Gap Monday night and had them put a pair aside for me, went and got them Tuesday and got an extra pair for good measure, then discovered I got $20 off both of them between a "reward" card and a store discount.  So good timing, anyway.  I'm going to have to concentrate really hard at this new job to avoid having Widow Brain episodes like that.  I'm going to have to concentrate really hard, period, to keep my mind from wandering away while people are talking to me, which it still does so much.

Went against lots and lots of my principles and ended up getting the office clothes yesterday at Wal-Mart.  I had tried Kohl's and not found anything that worked; at Wal-Mart I found a Norma Kamali pencil skirt that actually fits right, unlike most other pencil skirts I try on, which usually end up having all sorts of excess fabric on the sides that makes my hips look enormous.

And I finally gave in to curiosity and ordered those Dansko shoes from Zappos.  I suspect they'll be on their way back to Zappos fairly soon after they get here, but I just really want to know one way or the other if I can wear them.

Appointment with the counselor this afternoon, last one for a while, between work and the trip to Alabama.  Not sure if I'll start up again when I get back.  Guess it'll depend how I feel.

Personal to whoever is calling every day from a toll free number and not leaving a message: I have Caller ID.  I don't recognize the number, I don't answer.  Leave a message or stop calling.

Buffeted

Today's been a day of exhausting emotions, not that that's any different from any other day in recent memory.  Getting that call this morning, being offered the job I was totally convinced I wouldn't be offered, was such an ego boost (not bad to get offered a job after your first job interview in 16 years).  Deciding to say yes, which I did, caused another flurry of emotions: relief, nervousness, panic, worry (okay, these aren't emotions, now that I think of it... so a flurry of neurotic reactions, perhaps).  I'm still working on getting it through my head that just because I've said yes to a job in Illinois doesn't mean I'm signing my life away and saying I'll stay in Illinois for the rest of it.  And as I've said before, if I'm not ready to take Jerry's glasses off the nightstand or even remove the wrapped-up leftover half of a Heath bar that's next to his computer, I'm certainly not ready to pack up this house and put it on the market and move on.  So I might as well do something productive in the meantime.

Positives: getting this girl out of the house.  Getting this girl into daily interactions with other people.  Getting this girl the opportunity to do some editing, which is what she's been thinking she wanted to do anyway.  Not to mention: income!  Health benefits!  Yee-ha!

Negatives: Des Plaines, IL.  Getting there.  Getting back.  There is a Metra commuter train from the next town north of here and there is a bus from the train station in Des Plaines to near the office building, but there isn't necessarily guaranteed parking at this end.  I've put my name on a waiting list for a parking permit, but for now I'm going to drive there.  I start on Thursday.  And they're going to be very accommodating, too, about my wanting to take 2 1/2 weeks off immediately for my trip to Alabama.  So I'll work for four days, then not work again until after Thanksgiving.  So things are falling into the right places.

Buffeted, though.  Moving on to the next thing, the next job, the first job I'll have that Jerry won't ever know about.  Going on without him.  Facing facts... some of them, anyway.  It's hard.  It's so hard.

Positives, again: endocrinologist says my thyroid levels are exactly where they should be, so I'll stay at the same dose of levothyroxine I've been at.  Nurse and doctor both think overeating is a perfectly understandable reaction to the traumas of this year, and say I'll stop when I stop and things will go back to the way they were before.  Which is what I was thinking, but nice to have some professional backup for that view.  And considering I got on that scale in my clothes and Dansko clogs (all of which weigh at least 15 pounds, right?), I wasn't too upset about what I saw.  But mostly because I still can't bring myself to care.

So negatives too.  Big ol' mixture of positives and negatives.  With the Biggest Negative of all still overwhelming my life: the absence of my honey, obviously.  I miss him every second of every day.  God, it's hard.

Uh...

... I was just offered the job.

Stunned.

Need to work out the trip to Alabama.  Will be talking to them again later today.

Stunned.  After a week, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be hearing from them again.

Stunned.

It Gets Better: Gay Men's Chorus of Los Angeles "True Colors"

Posting this because it makes me cry... in a good way... every time I watch it.

Unimaginable

I'm far from the first widowed person to notice this sort of thing, but I look at that picture of me and Jerry in the spray booth and I'm amazed at the expression on my face.  I've smiled since Jerry died (to my amazement, since right after he died, I never imagined I'd ever smile again), but I can't fathom experiencing the joy that's on my face in that photo.  Of course, as I just said, I never imagined I'd ever smile again, period, so I can't predict what the future will bring.  But that happiness, that ease, standing next to my Jerry like that and being so full of joy?  I can't even remember what that felt like now.  I know I did feel it, and there are certainly enough photos of the two of us together in which I'm doing nothing but smiling like that to show me that once upon I time I did have that happiness.  That love.  As unimaginable now as that is.

Today's excitement was of the animal variety.  I kept hearing noise, pretty sure it was coming from the basement, but kept finding nothing when I went down there.  Then I began to think it was coming from the kitchen... and finally I went in and definitely heard a plastic rustling sound coming from a stand-alone pantry cabinet that had belonged to my grandmother, then was in my parents' house, and came with us back to Illinois when my parents moved into the apartment in the city and couldn't bring all their furniture with them.  Jerry and I stripped the layers of paint off of it and refinished it, but didn't get all the paint off, so it has a pleasant battered antique look to it.  Anyway... I got the little LED flashlight on my keychain and shone it into the pantry... and there was a mouse looking back at me, sitting among plastic bags of pasta.  We stayed that way for I don't know, a minute?  Then the mouse took off.  And it was so cute.  Little ears twitching, little nose twitching, dark eyes.  As Jerry and I would say when we saw mice, "Little feet!"  But... but... it was in my pantry cabinet.  And as Jerry would say whenever he saw a spider on the wall, "There are rules."  So although I'm not feeling as totally cold and brutal as I was a few months ago, I still went back up to the Despot and got some more rat poison.  Part of me hates doing this, but the humane trapping just does not ever, ever take care of the problem.  So, brutal, yes, but I have to do it.  (Don't e-mail me or comment and tell me I shouldn't, or I have alternatives.  Just don't do it.  It's not as if I don't see the mouse's point of view here too.  I just have made a decision I have to make.  End of story.)

Another week ending.  Tomorrow, another Auburn game to look forward to on TV.  Then ten days or so until, if all goes as planned, I head down to Alabama for a few weeks, to spend time in Huntsville, see more of the city, attend the Auburn-GA game (and if you'd told me only a few months ago how excited I'd be at the prospect of that, I'd have said you were nuts... but yeah, real excited, and Mr. Cam, you'd better stay healthy between now and then, is all I can say!  Also, Karen & David, I need to learn more cheers and stuff before then!), and go to the Alabama State Sacred Harp Singing Convention in Birmingham.  It's making me nervous to be planning to be away from home for that long - Jerry and I never spent that long away from home the entire time we were married - even our honeymoon was only 6 days long.  One of the many things that you give up when you run your own small business... or at least, a small business that's that far in the red.  I'm sure I'll be fine once I'm on my way.  Better, in fact.  But it's making me nervous.

My big plans to start being better about eating were a huge, huge failure.  I can't bring myself to care.  Not even the prospect of being put on a scale on Monday at my semi-annual appointment with the endocrinologist has been enough to slow me down - I just can't care.  I know the answer to the question of "Who should I be worrying about my appearance (or health) for?" should be me, but right now it's not enough... yet.  Yet.  I suppose it's like everything else these days: when it's time, I'll know.  Same goes for exercise, I suppose... whatever that is.

In other news: I've been obsessively looking at a pair of high-heeled Danskos on Zappos.  I, for those of you who don't know, am a person who cannot wear high-heeled shoes without major foot pain.  (And "high" as defined by me is not "high" as defined by most women.)  I'm also a person who wears wide sizes, and although my Dansko clogs are perfectly comfortable, I don't know how their shoes run as far as width goes.  I'm also a person who has no need for those shoes.  But I keep looking at them.  I'm working on staying content with just looking at them... and staying realistic about how they'd feel on my feet.  (If you're curious, it's these.  For as long as that link stays active.)

In the spray booth, September 2005

After the singing workshop at which the previous posted photo of Jerry was taken, we stopped off at the cabinet shop to show it to my parents.  This is us standing in the spray booth - unfortunately, the spray booth is sharp and we're fuzzy, but I still love the photo.

JME, September 2005

Jerry at the Fox Valley Folk Festival Sacred Harp workshop, September 2005.  Thanks to my parents for the photo.

On its own schedule

I was talking to Stella, the counselor I'm seeing, last week, and mentioned that I was imagining that people are getting tired of me being sad.  I said I thought maybe people wanted me to be "past it" by now, feeling better, being better, not constantly repeating myself about how much I miss Jerry and how I wish he were still here and we had our old, happy life back again.  Although, I pointed out, no one has actually said anything of the sort to me.

But, I went on, what I think it really is is that I am the one who is tired of me being sad.  I'm the one who wants to be happy, I'm the one who wants to stop feeling so damaged and wrecked.  But I can't make it happen when I want it to.  I can actually enjoy things now, but not without a background of sadness, and I never stop being aware of Jerry's absence.  I feel apart from the world in a lot of ways  - I always have, for that matter, for lots of reasons, but now there's this additional curtain of sadness between me and everyone else.  And I want it to go away.  But it doesn't.  Not yet.

I had a dentist appointment this morning - last time I had my teeth cleaned, in April, the hygienist sent me home with a bag of dry mouth remedies for Jerry, since I'd told her he was having chemotherapy and was having some problems with that.  Today she hugged me and told me she was sorry about my husband, and talked about how hard it all must be for me - just said all the right things.  You never know who'll do that and who won't - everyone means well, but not everyone can say the right things.  Some of the best things I've had said to me have been from people who tell me they have no idea what it must be like to go through this, and how sorry they are that I have to.  It's simple, but it's true - no one can know another person's pain, but acknowledging that that pain is there helps - it means it's real, it's not just my imagination or my inability to cope with what life doles out, it's a real thing that I'm going through, not a thing to be compared to anything else, not a thing to be diminished or played down or ignored.  It helps to know that people realize that this is just hard.

No word back from the people I interviewed with on Monday.  I'm guessing this means they're not offering me a job, which is fine.  It would have been nice to be offered it, but it's not the end of the world not to be, either.  I'm still very ambivalent about taking any job here in Illinois, since I don't want to be in Illinois long-term, although a good job might change my mind about that somewhat, I suppose.  (I did tell them that I started a blog when my husband died, so if you're reading this, people in Des Plaines... uh, hi.)  The interview was a good experience, my first job interview in something like 16 years.  Onward.

Favorite quote from last night's first episode of the final season of Friday Night Lights, which I get to see now because I have DirecTV: "You love the game of football. You just don't know it yet."  I feel like Jerry would possibly understand the new Auburn thing because we both enjoyed watching FNL, and as I told Karen, I consider it my gateway drug into Auburn football - first got used to the fake football on FNL, now enjoying the real thing on Auburn games.  Jealous of Coach and Tami now, as I get jealous of any depiction of a marriage these days (crying fit following on the latest episode of Modern Family, for instance).  Why do they get to be together and alive and healthy and happy?  Why is my marriage over?  I don't expect answers to "why" questions, I never really do ask for them, and I never expected life to be fair... but God, it makes me sad.

Yup, still sad.  The sadness will do what it wants, on its own schedule, for as long as it takes.  And maybe someday it'll be different, less painful, less there.  But not now.  Not yet.

JME, 2005

Jerry at dinner on the grounds, Liberty Church, Henagar, AL, 2005 (ETA: I think... or is this Pine Grove?  I can't tell now!)

"Storm of historical proportions"

I think this is one of those cases where they meant "historic," not "historical," but that title up there is from a post on weather.com at the moment, describing something that's heading this way.  Hurricane-force winds, they're saying.  The wind chimes Bill gave us as a housewarming gift when we first moved into this house are certainly clanging away out there on the screened-in porch.  Anyway, I can't imagine I won't be losing power if this storm is anything like they're predicting (and the radar maps are definitely showing masses of green out to our west).  So... if I had hatches, I'd batten 'em down.  Hoping for the best, and see y'all on the other side!