Six Weeks

I so not want to turn this into a widow's blog, a place where I would log on to vent, rage, and communicate something like anguish; however, I do want to note that, as of today, my husband has been gone for six weeks.

Grief is inexplicable. I'll be fine for a day, maybe two, but then I'm overpowered by this misery that appears out of nowhere. I do understand it will lessen, and I understand that this is perfectly normal. But sometimes the pain is just debilitating. When those big, hot tears want to roll, it seems I have no control.

I'm fortunate enough to have a job that keeps me busy beyond the 9-to-5 (I went to work immediately after my beloved passed--the next week--in order to keep my mind occupied. I think some people took that as a sign of callousness. Many colleagues expressed some shock when they saw me. Oh well). In fact, I've marked out tomorrow --Thanksgiving Day--as all work, which will keep me away from all things turkey and Macy's Parade and Miracle on 34th Street (which we watched every Thanksgiving afternoon after finishing our dinner).

Numerous kind-hearted souls have asked me to dinner, and I've turned them all down. No, I think I need to spend the day alone. I want to blank Thanksgiving, which was always a special day for us, one of ritual and comfort. Tomorrow, I will work until the early evening, when I will watch a non-holiday-related film or two. Chances are that I will also drink heavily.

In the morning, I will get up, pour my darling a glass of port, just as I did for every Thanksgiving and Christmas morning of our time together, and I will get on with it.

And I will be thankful for the wonderful years I had with him.