Tonight it'll be two years. Dh was pronounced dead shortly after midnight, Sept. 15, 2006. So I'm in a weird place right now.
I still don't know what to say, and it's for damn sure nobody else does, either.
I've been crying more this week than I have in a long while. At least part of my coursework overload is intentional self-inflicted suffering, and I know it.
What I've learned:
I am stronger than I know.
The people in my life are generous beyond all telling.
Fear is easy.
Risk is the only path to joy.
Joy is worth the risk.
There was a recurring dream I probably wrote about, which still scares me even now, where I was trying to follow a road that led to some foggy distant place, and the road went under water, and I did not know if staying on the road would drown me but also couldn't see any other way forward. I still feel like that sometimes: like the road may take me too far over my head, but I have to keep going forward anyhow; going backwards is underwater, too, and all of it disappears from beneath my feet as I go. The path is only there at that particular point when I am also there on it.
Blah. Getting all tangled up, and not making sense; it's that sort of day. I feel inarticulate, cranky, small, and a little lost.
Time to go grocery shopping, organize course material, do some laundry, try yet again to think of an appropriate plant to plant at the cemetary (nope, still can't spell it), maybe rearrange some things. Get some material ready for a Shakespeare workshop tomorrow. Email M. from biochem. Bustle, bustle. Classes start this week at Harvard Extension, which is exciting - yay! along with that, the campus pub starts regular hours again, another yay! 'cause they have great, cheap beer and are open until 2 a.m.
Sometimes things are great. Mostly they're fine. Once in a while, they suck.
Thank you, you guys. For the great, and the fine, and helping me through the suck.