"You'll meet someone else"

The lawyer seems nice, and competent.  But she said that.  She said "You'll meet someone else."  I didn't know what to say in response - I don't remember what I said in response.  I didn't get angry or anything, not that confrontation-averse me would have managed to express that anger if it had been there, but I just felt so totally at a loss.  I know she meant to be kind, meant to make me feel better.  But I don't want to meet someone else.  I want Jerry back.  I still haven't even truly gotten it through my head or my heart that he's actually dead, that he isn't just at the hospital as he was those four weeks I was here alone at night, or somewhere else (at work?).  That he isn't going to come back to me.  But all I can think is, how lucky she is, my new lawyer.  Because she clearly has absolutely no clue what this feels like.  I wish her years and decades and a lifetime of not knowing what this feels like.

Another thunderstorm is rolling in.  Fingers crossed I get to keep my electricity through this one.  Although on Sunday I did buy an LED flashlight/lamp, so if I do lose power, at least I won't get candlewax all over again by trying to pick up one of the candles to go into a different room.

I wonder why I continue to have an appetite.  I lost my appetite the first weekend Jerry was in the hospital, I think it was, or was it the second, I can't remember now, when the heartless "I'm just being frank" gastroenterologist Dr. Aziz first said that Jerry was in bad shape and we should go straight to hospice.  I got it back when Jerry seemed to be improving and proving Dr. Aziz wrong.  But through everything that's happened since, my appetite has stayed put, which is incredibly odd for me.  I wonder if, once the fact of Jerry's death - his permanent, non-changeable, absolute death - starts becoming more real to me, my appetite will then disappear.  I keep reading about widows who can't bring themselves to eat, and I would have thought for sure that would be me.  Curious.