Wednesday, June 17, 2015

A Big Bowl of Thought-Spaghetti

Dear John,
I've been thinking since I got back from vacation and trying, without success, to distill these thoughts  into some sort of acceptable, organized form before presenting it to you. So here it is, a big bowl of thought-spaghetti with ends sticking out everywhere - very annoying to your anal retentive wife.
Talking to Becky was beyond wonderful. It's not like talking to anybody else because not only are we both widowed now, but we all knew each other before we were married. We did our engagement-wedding-early marriage years together. And now we're doing widowhood together. There's no relationship like it. And, as in years past, we talked until the wee hours of the morning. Some things settled out in my head, some stand out, and you have to hear all about it even if I can't get it organized. Maybe telling it to you will help.
First, we agreed that we're not okay and never will be. And that's okay. We function, we DO okay, but underneath where we just ARE, we're not okay. There's always a well of sadness, as Becky put it, under the surface. We live with it.
We have a cheerful, energetic fa├žade that we can put on as needed. I don't want to be one of those determinedly-cheerful widow-ladies. But I can pull that out when I need it. Thankfully, I don't need to very often. Losing you has taught me a new level of compassion and given me greater warmth, and that is what usually shows. But I can pull bright-and-cheerful out when necessary. I don't like myself that way, though. It's a wall between me and other people. I only do it when someone hurts me.
You know I've often said that I'm not depressed but I'm ready to join you. Becky feels the same, and has met with the same reaction when she has tried to communicate that to others. I can best describe it as baffled panic. One of the wonderful things about talking to her is being able to say it to someone else who is in the same place. We have no survival instinct - when Monsanto finally brings about the zombie apocalypse, I will gladly donate whatever brains I have. I'm not depressed or unhappy. I just have more reasons to go than I have to stay.
I know there's more - I will pass it on to you as it surfaces and gels. Tell Kyle that your wives love and miss you. We're not okay but we're doing okay. We're not depressed - at least, not often - but we're more than ready to join you. Drat you both for forgetting to take us with you!
Still watching for that stagecoach,

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