Strange Behavior of the Time-Space Continuum

Dear John,

 

It's been another beautiful day. I trimmed Hunter's claws - he's getting more comfortable with the process, and even seems to enjoy being swaddled in a bath towel. I paid bills, did filing, and did some business ordering. I had a nice busy afternoon.

 

I've been mulling the fact that life has gone on since you died. My head knew that would happen. But some part of  me is shocked when it does. I was horrified when Staples rearranged their aisles, because things weren't the same as they were when we went there together. And I've struggled some with changing things here at home. You know I felt guilty for a couple of days about changing the spare bedroom into an office. It felt funny, too, to get a cat, even though I got him for Jethro, and I'm sure that you would be having all kinds of fun with him.

 

I think it's a very good thing that I had to clear out our closet right after you died, to make room for the girls to move in. If I hadn't been forced to, I don't know if I ever would have. Some people leave those things unchanged for decades, and sometimes that's a good thing. But for me, seeing your clothes even as long as I did was painful. I think, for me, not changing the closet and chest of drawers would have kept salt on the wound. And since I had to do it, I didn't feel guilty about it.

 

I don't feel bad about doing new things in the yard and the garden, because that was my area. And when I rearranged the garage, it was because there was only one car in it. You would have done the same thing if we'd had only one car when you were alive. And organizing stuff was my area, too, really. I think you would have been very happy for me to rearrange the garage anytime I felt like it!

 

In mulling this, I know that my life seemed to stop the day you died. I certainly wanted it to stop! But it didn't, so the world will continue to change and so will I. I remember the 1974 tornadoes, and how terrible it was to get up the next morning and, other than the consequences of the hit on the hydroelectric plan at Dix Dam, everything was the same. I learned that day that any emotional trauma can leave you feeling like everything should be different. So maybe a bigger trauma can make you feel that nothing should ever be different.

 

I don't know. I'm feeling my way around in this new world I'm in. But I can't help notice this unreasonableness in myself, and once noticed, I have to analyze it. That's the best I can do for now. I'm sure this won't be the end of my pondering. In the end, the only change in the world that matters is your absence. But that will pass when Jen lets me dig!

 

Adore you,

Joan.