There is some other-wordly power that gets me going on Mondays. Ok, let’s do this. Start the week, get it rolling, an object in motion stays in motion, get in the shower, put on some clothes, feed the dog, start the car, drive to work, there you are.
After my husband died, some other-worldly power got me through my first year, too. Or perhaps I don’t give myself enough credit. Let me re-phrase: somehow, I got myself through the first year. I DID IT. But I don’t know how. I wasn’t myself. I was beside myself. Like Tuesday, cast in the shadow of Monday.
And now, I’m moving into the second year of my grief, and it’s just like they said it would be. Harder. Not in all ways, but in many ways. Harder because everyone else has moved on, Monday is over, and they’ve all got their sights set on summer. My husband’s death, far, far in their past. A lot of people didn’t even remember the day he died. And why would they? There’s no room for death at Summer Fest. As for me, my husband is still dead, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.
To be fair, the other shirt I have says, Hope Matters. And it does. But I’m trying to make a point here: last year I was in shock. And in some ways, it would have been nice to stay there. Because now that the bubble has burst, I can see the big chunk taken out of my life that I am going to have to reconstruct. My husband is gone. And I am still here, eyes wide open, pried open. When you see someone you love die, you can’t un-watch it. The fissure knocks those great tectonic plates into motion, a slow, grinding, unrelenting process of change, of acceptance, and hopefully, of healing. But healing is not easy. And on Tuesdays, in particular, it’s like pulling a truck out of the mud. That pesky Tuesday is definitely the dark side of the moon(day). Ha ha.
I know that I am continuing to work through the darkness, and that I am getting better. But in case anyone thinks I am all fine and dandy now, the cycle complete – to be celebrated under the light of a big glowing “super moon” – remember, it’s an illusion, that big moon. I’m putting on a good show, too. And I’ll keep going, keep playing the part, trying to fill that hole, as the sphere of my life zooms ’round, completely off-kilter, until we all believe it. Fake it ’til you make it, they say. Patch it up, girl, cake it on, get your ass to work. You got there on Monday, you can get there on Tuesday.
But it’s still gonna’ be a while before I will be able to say TGIF, let’s get this party started, and mean it with all of my heart.