At first I thought that each milestone would bring a sense of satisfaction. I survived! I am a survivor!
That didn't happen. You have no choice but to survive. It's not a conscious effort. The day will come and go whether you want it to or not. You will continue to breath whether you want to or not. You have done nothing note worthy, nothing to pat yourself on the back for. At the end of the day, as you lay in your lonely bed, you acknowledge that the day has passed, and you are still here.
There have been many firsts for me in 'my' year. Our anniversary, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, the birthdays of three of our children, have all passed, quietly tip-toeing by with little fanfare.
Watching White Christmas and Meet Me In St. Louis, two of my favorite holiday movie without him, a painful first.
Other firsts include, buying my first new car, buying tires for that same damn car, buying new doors for the house, new bedroom furniture, and a lot of other stuff I would have discussed with Bill or he would have handled. Did I need all those things? Who the hell knows.
Going through the entire NFL season without watching even one game was a first. Not having a huge Superbowl party was a first. Instead I went to the pub with my sisters-in-law, another first. I haven't been in a bar in probably 20 years and never walked in alone. Well, one time I did when I wanted to make Bill mad, but I was about 18, so it really doesn't count.
Today was the first birthday party of 2017 for one of our grandchildren. She's 11 now and so beautiful, but there will be many more birthday's to follow in 2017. Never have I gone alone before, another first.
This week is Valentine's Day and then my birthday. He won't be here to wait up until 12:01, so he can be the first person to wish me Happy Valentine's or Happy Birthday. I'm fairly certain this week will be a 'wallow' week.
I'm angry and bitter, something that I didn't believe would happen, but apparently these grief people know what they are talking about. I also find the my bullshit tolerance is 0%. At times I feel quite mean, so I stay in my room or office and try not to subject others to my moods.
I finally heard him, another first. I have been praying to hear him, or feel him around me for months. This may sound a little crazy, but I have spoken to spirits before. My father yelled at me for days after his death! I thought he'd never shut up, but Bill maintained his silence.
It's funny, but on the way to the pub that night I expected to hear Bill's deep voice booming, "Oh hell no! You are not going into that bar", but there was dead silence in the car. I don't turn on the radio. I'm afraid a song will come on that will make me sad, so not a single peep out of him. Later that night when I went to bed he spoke to me, and no I wasn't drunk. Two Bud Lights and a Pepsi.
I was planning to fly to South Carolina at the end of the month to spend a few days with his sisters.
He said, 'I don't want you to go. This is where you belong, where you feel safe. It's too soon.'
I was very near sleep and I remember whispering okay. Then a feeling of peace swept through me and I must have immediately fallen asleep.
The next morning, I was trying to get it straight in my head. Did that really happen? Did I dream it? It didn't feel like a dream, it felt like he was lying beside me. Should I go or not?
Then it occurred to me that for months I'd been praying to hear from him, and the first time I did, I wasn't sure I liked what he said, lol. Sort of like the old, "Does this look okay? Does it make my ass look fat?"
"It looks fine and no it doesn't."
"I think I'll change."
You want to hear, but you want it be something you want to hear. I canceled my trip.
So, for the next week or so I'm going to be keeping a very low profile. I might even be prostrate with grief, but that's okay too. I don't want to be on Facebook seeing all the romance jazz, the hearts and flowers, the sexy pics, I just want to be alone and not ruin anyone's enjoyment of the holiday.
As far as my birthday, it won't bother me to skip it, in fact I think I'll just stay the same age for another year or two. I've already received a couple of lovely gifts from my sister and my niece, a tiny God necklace with six Tanzanite stones to represent my troubles and a lock of Bill's hair that she clipped sometime during the funeral and wrapped in a braided cord. I love them both and the hair is amazing, or it was until I rubbed it so long between my fingers it started to pull apart. I put it back in the beautiful heart shaped trinket box.
Another niece sent me a card and this was the quote she wrote inside:
"She made broken look beautiful, and strong look invincible.
She walked with the universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings."
Isn't that just the most beautiful thing she could have said? It so touched my heart and made me cry. I don't feel beautiful or invincible. In fact, it shocks me when people say they admire my strength. I don't see it, I really don't. I feel weak and shaken, heartbroken and lonely in a way that is impossible to describe. I hope someday I will be that person they admire so.