Under it.

Man. I’m under it today.

And it’s only Saturday.

I know why they are afraid to ask, “how was your weekend”? On Monday, it will be written all over my face. The signature look of grief. It would be a compliment to call it a “hot mess”.

Most of the week, I am in “zombie mode”. On Fridays, I crumble. Saturday is “mad dog” day. I walk around in circles trying to remember where I hid my bone, or put my keys, unable to settle in a comfortable spot. But better drop that ass quickly because here comes Sunday! The variety-pack of anxiety, fear, and what-the-hell-happened-to-my-life?

Monday. It’s just not something people can take – early in the morning – seeing the big gaping hole in my chest, the dark circles under my eyes. Weekends are for rest and recovery, aren’t they? I’d be afraid to ask, too. So away we go, allowing clients, deadlines and pressing needs distract, derail and lead us all astray from the important things in life.

A presumptuous young doctor, (strutting around in his self-perceived cloak of immortality), asked my husband what he would “do” with his precious remaining time. I think the guy was seriously expecting some kind of fantastical answer about blasting up into space, base jumping from the Eiffel Tower, or frolicking over to Disney, and sucking on Mickey Mouse’s dick. Is that offensive? Well, so is asking deathly-ill people what they are going to “do” before they die.

Seriously. I wanted to punch him. But then my husband answered. And he melted my heart.

“The only thing I want to do, is go home, and spend time with my beautiful wife, our dog,  my family. Enjoy our garden, sit out on the front deck with my coffee, listen to the birds…I don’t need to go anywhere to find what is most important.”

Is it any wonder my weekends feel like a barren landscape, leaving me with dried-out eyes, and a mouth full of sand? It’s not something happy-hour and a little mascara can fix. I’m still under it, and can only dream of being over it.

Though I guess my morning cup of coffee does help…cheers, baby. Thank you for seeing the beauty.

Holiday Creep

Of course there is currently much talk about the holidays, and how to cope with them after experiencing loss. I understand the good intentions behind discussing, thinking, and preparing for the upcoming season. And that it might not be a bad idea to have a “plan” in place….

Me and my husband – we were our own little unit. A self-sufficient satellite station. We both grew up with families that were low-key about the holidays, wonderful families with virtually no drama or expectations about where we spent our Thanksgiving, or Christmas, families that also happened to be very far away – mine, across the country, his, on an entirely different continent. So we all actually felt it was more enjoyable for everyone to visit in the off-seasons, without any of the potential holiday travel fiascos.