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.