It's been seven months today. When I think about that I want to throw up - I don't know exactly why, but that's my reaction. I suppose the universe doesn't require my understanding, does it? Other than that, it's not been a bad day. I've still got Clapton Unplugged on the CD player in the car, and I skipped Tears in Heaven - I just couldn't face that one today.
I'm doing better as time goes on. The lows aren't as low and they don't last as long. Keeping busy still helps. And it's still worse after dark. But I'm getting to bed earlier now. Going to bed is getting easier on the average, but there are still nights that I stay up into the wee hours because I can't face the bed without you in it. That's why God made Pinterest; it gives me something to put my mind on at 2 am.
I find myself spending a lot of time assuring other people that I'm alright. It's my usual thing of trying not to inflict my inconvenient emotions on innocent bystanders. I don't want people to feel uncomfortable around me. And I am very aware that this is the common fate of women - the great majority of us will be widows. Neither I nor my experience are anything special.
I was thinking today about this trip I want to make someday - Highway 61 from Memphis south to the end - and realized that doing it without you could cause some complications I've never had to deal with. Think about it - this 60-ish white woman going into the juke joints every night, sitting by herself, listening to Delta Blues, and drinking half-and-half orange juice and 7-Up. This could attract some attention. I'm nothing special to look at, but doing that is a little strange. I haven't had a guy hit on me since that Cubs game in the early 1990s. And it's been nice. It feels strange to have to think about things like that. We went everywhere together. I don't know anybody but you that would want to make that trip, and I'm not sure that I'd want to travel with anybody else. I know I've said it before - you were always so easy to be with. And you're just as hard to be without.
Someday I'll make that trip, and I'll want you with me. But I'll tell you all about it here. And I'll post pictures. There's just no way I can post the sound of the music or the taste of the barbecue. I love you so much - we shared everything, and I still share everything I can with you here. I miss you so much, but I'm surviving, whether I want to or not. There are things I look forward to, but nothing nearly as much as I look forward to being with you again.
Until then - love you with all my heart,