Worked today - I can't decide which is worse, home or the shop - I guess it's a tie - both places are filled with things Jerry has left behind, everywhere, memories of his presence. He's got to be just about to come around that corner. It's been the way life has been for 11 years - he's there, I know he is. He has to be coming back - his hat is hanging on his desk here, his sweater is hanging on a peg at work, his stuff is everywhere - and how can all this useless shit still be here and Jerry not be coming back?
Made it through the day at work with only four crying jags, if I'm counting right (I may have lost count). But at the same time... no, it's not real. Because it just makes no sense and it was all so fast and he's in all these photos all over the house, and he has to be coming back, he just has to. Because he just has to.
Because, he just has to.
I can't deal with this house and this land on my own. It was Jerry's talent and vision that turned this really ugly (on the inside) house into the beautiful, (mostly) finished place it is now; it was Jerry's vision and effort that was going to turn the yard into a sea of native plants and pathways and wildflowers. Now I've got a beautiful house with a seeping, leaking, moldy basement that'll cost I don't know how much yet to waterproof and shape up, I've got a hugely overgrown yard with out-of-control invasive buckthorn, I've got a dehumidifier that keeps making loud noises no matter how many times I go down there and try to fiddle with it (and I've got it running constantly and the basement is still wet, and oh I just can't wait to see the electric bill), I've got a garage door that I'm sure is going to pop out of its tracks any time now, I've got an almost-12-year-old minivan that I just have to hope is going to continue to hold on, I've got a leaking toilet, I've got this big old house with just non-handy me in it. And one way or another, by the end of the summer it's pretty clear I won't have a job (not that the job I have now is actually paying me anything - as Seamus and I noted weeks ago, we're basically working for insurance coverage). I don't even want to think about Jerry's business coming to an end - it will be like Death reaching back and saying "Sorry, forgot something" - and dragging the shop away too.
It's all so overwhelming. I know, I know - I must not make any big decisions right now. (On the other hand, I do need to deal with the basement, that I know. I need to talk to one of the contractors about that soon.) I found an online bulletin board for "young widows and widowers" (47 still counts as "young" in this context, I guess) and a lot of people there counsel against thinking about the future right away. They talk about making it out of bed in the morning and getting through each day. Wise. But I can't help but wonder about the future anyway. And if there will be a time when the idea of having one seems like a good thing.
On the weird side, I was going to cancel the satellite TV service this morning. I told them my husband had died, I had spent a month visiting him in the hospital and never turned the TV on, it was just me now and I didn't think I would keep the service. So they gave me a $200 credit on my account, no strings attached, and told me to keep the service for the summer and see what I thought then. Okaaaay. Guess it really is a cutthroat world for TV providers.
In the photo: what a widow looks like. 
It was fantastic of the satellite company to do that for you.
ReplyDeleteI'd be thinking about the future right now too - I don't think I'd be able to prevent those thoughts...there is so much to think about and I know my brain would never turn off.
It is good to see your photo - I wish I could hug you right now.
I am happy to discuss wet basements (I am in a large old house, minus my (deceased) handy husband, and yes, I hear you, I never would have taken on such a house without my husband), though I am not sure how helpful it will be. When we all in my neighborhood suffered the rains in March and most of us had flooded basements, I learned from neighbors that sump pumps are not enough, a "French drain" is the way to go, though expensive (I should probably disclose that I've got neither, just a hole in the basement floor -- the house was built in 1895 -- and a little submersible pump my husband once bought, the kind you attach a garden hose to. I do have a dehumidifier -- it seems to have survived the flooding.) If you have a plumber you like, maybe that person knows someone to direct you to about the basement -- through my plumber, I ended up with a tile person and through him an electrician who have both been quite kind and helpful. I would start with just getting a short list of names and numbers to call -- break it down into manageable pieces and try not to get ahead of yourself, including with worrisome outcomes. Your yard may end up being a wonderful project for a local Scout troop, or something, for example, you never know, as you found out with your TV outfit. I think much of our brains are occupied with grieving so shortly after the loss.
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