My Person

 I’ve been wondering why it’s been so hard to deal with the death of my husband when it wasn’t unexpected. I’ve been grieving him for years—so why is it still so hard?

I am moody, unpredictable, callous (using cuss words I don’t usually use), ultra-sensitive, and just plain unbearable to be around. I don’t even like myself.

The only thing I keep coming back to is that I’m missing my person.

Bill has been my person for 55+ years. No matter what happened, he was my person. Now I have no person. For me, no friends, other family members, or pets can take the place of having a person.

This scares me. I wonder if I will try to find a “person” to fill in for Bill—and whether that could be a disaster, depending on how important it feels for me to find one.

And if I don’t find a person, am I going to be alright? Will I always be this grumpy person I’ve become—someone who wants nothing to do with anyone right now? (It’s going to be hard to find “my new person” as long as I’m grumpy! LOL.)

So that’s where I am right now.

A friend gave me a book called Grief, Day by Day by Jan Warner. 

It’s a daily reading about grief, and I see myself in it in many places. So maybe I’m not so unusual. It’s just unusual for me.

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Grief is strange. Not at all how I imagined it.

For instance, I’ve developed an aversion to going into Houston. I didn’t realize it until a friend suggested we visit a museum downtown. The thought set me into a panic, but I didn’t know why.

In the middle of the night, I woke and realized I can’t go anywhere that connects me to Bill’s memory.

I tried to drive through Houston the other day to reach the north side and visit his memorial site. I went the wrong direction. I hit roadblocks. Someone nearly hit me and it began to rain. It was as if the was universe was saying, “Don’t go there right now.” So, I turned around and came home. 

Grief has paralyzed me from traveling to Houston. 

My cousins wanted to visit me in April – something I’d looked forward to since I moving to Galveston. We began making plans. Then they called to confirm dates before booking travel and I panicked. I couldn’t do it. Why? I’m not sure. It just felt overwhelming. So, I told them not to come. 

Grief has paralyzed me from enjoying company from out of town. 

When Bill first passed, 90% of my income stopped. I was sure I’d end up on the street. I began looking for a job, cutting expenses, and reading everything I could about saving and investing. 

Should I leave my beautiful new apartment?  Stay here and get a job? Start a home business? Maybe I should move somewhere cheaper – off the island or even out of state? 

Now, almost two months later, I see my finances more clearly. I am financially strong. I have less, yes, but it’s more than enough for my needs. There’s no need to panic. I can stay where I am and enjoy a good life.

And yet I woke in the middle of the night worrying about spending too much money on a Sam’s Club order and how I could return it on my way to see Bill. 

Oh, I don’t do that anymore. 

Grief has paralyzed me from thinking logically.

They tell me this will gradually pass, and I believe it will. In the meantime, I have a message that pops up on my phone every day, “Don’t make any decisions.” 

So that’s what I’m doing—making no big decisions. Taking one day at a time. Waiting for my heart to heal. 

That’s what grief is.