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.