stayed in bed
Yesterday I pretty much spent the whole day in bed. It wasn't all being miserable or anything, I just didn't want to get dressed, go out, see anyone. I did some reading, was online, looked for a mover, napped when I felt like it. My sister emailed me sometime in the morning--I'd been trying to call her the past few days and she wasn't answering or calling back. She emailed me that she was "emotional" during Leslie's illness or her funeral, but she was "a mess this week, hurt and alone". I tried again to call her--no response. Not sure why she emailed me.
I would have liked to talk to someone yesterday. I was feeling lonely later in the day. I'd called a couple of friends of mine--didn't hear back from either of them. I've noticed Gail has been kind of stand-offish since Leslie died. We usually talk or text or email every day--lately it's been every few days. I get it--that happens, but I could have used a friend yesterday.
Around 10 last night I decided I was getting really depressed and I should go out a bit--over to the church garden I'd hung out in the other night, then just for a random drive--just drive, turn corners whenever the mood struck.
I kind of slept last night--woke up a few times but was lucky enough to get back to sleep.
I'm really down this morning. I have a lot to do today--trying to clean my bedroom, which has become kind of a mess. In bed--just drop things on the floor, who cares. Finally cleaned up the glass I broke the other night. Felt I needed to cry, but it wasn't coming. I pulled out the pile of sympathy cards I'd received and read through those--got the waterworks moving somewhat, but I feel like there's a lot in there that needs to come out and it's just not.
I have a picture of Leslie and her cat Calamity on my phone. Leslie looks so healthy in that picture--not sure when it's from. She's smiling, her face is full--she has those great full lips she got from her dad. At the end there wasn't much left of her. No flesh on her. Her lips were all dry and cracked, no matter when we did.
The day Buck and I went over the make the arrangements we had an opportunity to see Leslie one last time--she was being cremated the next day. I couldn't relate the person I saw to Leslie. She has Leslie's tattoos and all, but that wasn't Leslie. I don't know who it was. That was not my girl.
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It feels as if you are taking care of yourself in the ways that are needed and each moment brings an opportunity to do just that.
I vividly remember seeing my late mom in the way that you describe seeing Leslie, and I felt as if what I was looking at was a "shell" her earth suit that she had shed without her vibrant soul contained within. It wasn't my mom either and that was an image that took me awhile to not be my first one.
Sometimes I felt as if I just needed to be on automatic pilot mode and needed to be okay. No tears came either and I moved about my day knowing that the flood gates would soon be opening again, so just took it as a day perhaps of respite.
Gentle care in the midst of this "new normal" that none of us ever wanted, yet here we are. I truly believe it's the hardest work of our lifetime and is something that will never end, yet it will not always feel this jagged and razor like. Slowly it softens a bit most days and becomes something that we each learn how to carry in our own way and in our time. I needed to hear things such as this from the women a few steps further down the path, because it gave me hope when I felt doomed to always feel the way I did in my present moment forever. They kept telling me that I wouldn't and somehow I tucked their words away and perhaps even tried to believe them, just a little. May you too tuck these words away to believe, even just for a nano second.
Hand in hand, Heart to heart, Sue.
XO Joanie