Week 2

Life is for the living, and it goes on... grief is the price of love, but not a place to stay. Life is for the living, and it goes on without some... grief is the price of love, but not a place to stay. (It still follows you around like a lost puppy for a while). I'm not running away from it, Melissa will always be with me... but just trying to take baby steps towards the future, and letting it get bored with me. ℹ️ Info           Created: 2023-03-30

2023-03-30 to 04-05 - Passed is past

• Grief/Day 7 - Balancing the wallow (in grief) and moving on. Or at least keeping busy with plans and doing all the stuff she did. Oh, and I got the joy of visiting Doctor Longfinger (Urologist). My prostate issues aren't much to worry about for now; it sucks getting old, but beats the alternative.

• Grief/Day 8 - Grief; the gift that keeps giving. But I have had, and still have, a privileged life. I went out with a friend, joined an online support group, can talk with others about Melissa without losing it, but still have a lot more things to do as a bachelor-widow than I did as a lazy husband. But getting it done.

• Grief/Day 9 - Happy Birthday. What do I want? Reincarnation? I still lived the day, and it wasn't a bad day. I feel like if I stop enjoying, I'm not living up to Melissa's goals for me (or honoring her memory of living every day well for herself). So I miss her so much, but grateful that we had 32 great years together -- and I can't waste life's gift pouting and in self pity.

• Grief/Day 10 - Happy Birthday to me (59). I went to lunch with bank buddies, went shooting and to dinner (bought myself a new toy). And earlier in the day shared grief (the stories of Melissa's passing) with an old friend of both of ours. Being that M was a flight attendant for two decades, I'm fine with the day-to-day (she took her trip to heaven). But hurting friends still stings.

• Grief/Day 11 - Swimming, Adulting and Crawfish. I always got more done when my wife wasn't around -- there's no one else to do it, and I get started earlier. Not as fun without the company or soft criticism about how to do it better (e.g. her way)... but I can still here her voice as I get things done. One small step at a time.

• Grief/Day 12 - Cleaning and moving rooms is a process (baby steps). Rehoming her things is something she would love. Disposing of some, just hurts. I took a break and tried a little microbrewery (and delicious Dog Stand), and had dinner with friends/neighbors. Life has to go on... but missing her never ends.

• Grief/Day 13 - Watched a movie, and picked up Melissa from the Funeral Home / Crematorium, not necessarily in that order.

Day 7

           Main article: Grief/Day 7

Diff'rent Strokes Normally, I wake up, think of my wife, talk to her, think about what we won't have or get to do together, and cry. But today was different, I did that and didn't cry. So I reflexively started thinking about her Mom and her, or other people that would never get to be touched my Melissa, and then the tears came. Then my brain kicked in and I was analyzing myself. Why do I feel the need to cry for everyone else -- all the people that loved her, and that would have loved her had they met her? It's not enough that I carry the grief for myself and my loss, but I have to take on the grief of others or the world? I just want to be sad? Don't wallow in sadness. Life goes on. I think the reason I wasn't crying about what she would miss, is I was focused on the memorial. I got a lot done yesterday, and she would have LOVED to be at the celebration of life I was planning for her. I had a few crying jags the prior day over various parts of that she'd like/miss, and was kinda cried out this morning. How many times can you sob over how much she liked queso and chips, or complaining about imperfections of our country club that she would fix/clean up. I was doing the rememberence with her favorite people, foods, place (kinda), and it was all about her. (She loved Mexican food and Margaritas). She was sometimes awkward with that much attention, but often secretly loved it. All girls want to be special. (I never get past uncomfortable when it's about me). I was booking a nice Funeral Home chapel (with the smarmy folks), but her Mom/Mary reminded me how informal Melissa was (we got Married in shorts and sneakers), and the Chapel/Funeral home was a bit heavy; why not do it at our country club which overlooked her Lake? Done. It could hold 150 with parking (60 had pre-RSVPd), was close, and it helped a whole casual theme (and things Melissa loved). Melissa, ever the perfectionist, thought our clubhouse is OK, but not in perfect repair. Melissa's neat freak wanted to fix the flaws. But the people are nice, and we like it, and it has a view of her lake that she loves, and she liked it, even through its flaws. Like her with me. That meant Cinco De Mayo (or near enough); with a Margarita Bar, and I pre-booked catering from Lupe's Tortilla, one of her favorite places and with some of her favorite things; just chips, enchiladas, salsa, queso and quac, and some taquitos/flautas. But no puffy tacos (her fav). You want people to mingle and tell stories, not move in. The 5th was booked and I couldn't get catered. I could get Thursday May 4th -- but she never watched Star Wars (intentionally) and would resent a Geek Holiday (May the 4th be with you). Or Sunday April 30th, and more could attend a weekend (Sunday) generally. I put a deposit for April 30th / 1:00 pm. (Still need to do invites with charity details, and final RSVP). I darkly thought Cinco De Mayo coming early was correlated with Melissa passing way too soon. (Fuck!) I felt a little guilty about never doing a party like this when she was alive (we did do a good celebration or two for her 50th). But no slide shows, videos or testimonials? Why don't we celebrate a life more while they are alive? I did a lot more administrative stuff (some banking stuff, more mail/bills/etc, I'd done some insurance and mailed/cards/packages from her the day before), I delivered a gift she'd bought for a friend (Gayle) she was considerate even from the grave. And I wanted to close out some of the things Melissa had wanted to do. I'll never be as considerate as she was. But I can at least check off some pending's for her. Now today includes my visit to Doctor Longfinger (nickname for my urologist), and see about the chip clip. He really has basketball player sized hands with no qualms about finger blasting me. It seems for at least a while, I'm done with both the ass-rape and the antibiotics that don't seem to do much but make me uncomforatable. I was a little testy (pun intended) with their front office staff because they wanted me to take a new PSA because they were too lazy to call the referring doctor and get the one I took in January. (I'd only asked them both to do, twice before). I guilted the shit out of them this time with their nasty call about not doing another test, "remember when I asked you last time? I"m sorry, but I've been busy with my wife in the hospital for a month and her dying and all -- so maybe you can do your job to save me from an unnecessary medical test?" She said she'd see what she could do. She didn't get anything. So I took a picture on my phone of the result, and they accepted that. Since the pain isn't that bad, it's more something I just need to learn to live with. (It's only a 1 or 2, and I can take advil to help).

Day 8

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Silver Spoons Woke up this morning with the first thought being that I miss my wife, but I didn't bawl. I only misted up or cried a few times yesterday. But little things are triggers. Telling people that didn't know. Talking with people that know but miss her. Or something dumb, like I got an add for a local Farmers Market that started up, that she would have loved. Yesterday, was also my normal "shooting night". A friend (Mike) and I, do the range, and then get steak night at the local pub. After not doing that for a couple months, it was nice. I bummed him out / caught him up on everything on much of the drive there. (Partly to just answer any lingering questions). Then we shot, and talked mostly about other things the rest of the time. Some is related by adapting to self-sufficiency, but it's more about new normal, than just let's wallow. I shot good enough. I was doing small guns (CCW), and still intrigued that I shoot my S&W Shield significantly better than the Glock 34x (Melissa's gun, that I like better). The mushy glock trigger sucks, but if I can get better with it, it should mean I'm even better with other guns. I'm on a "Young Widowers" support group at the suggestion of a friend of exactly my age (3 days difference), who lost his wife of 25 years (2 years ago). For him, most of the widow support groups were people significantly older than us, and he couldn't relate, but the Young Widow site has mostly people younger (raising families, etc). and it's not completely relatable either. There needs to be a middle aged widow site. People that get 80s references, but aren't looking for FWB's and don't get references about Howdy Doody and Andy's Gang. Since many seem to be young(er), they talk about things like guilt and dating (or using dating sites just to try to make friends). And those seem correlated for them. They want life to go on, and not be stuck in the house -- but they are worried about disgracing the memory of their loved ones. A few seem to discuss that they got on dating sites after 1 month, just to connect to others (they were trolling for friends, but fuck-buddies). Zero judgement on my part. They're younger, had shorter relationships (thus I hope shorter recoveries), and likely had slower deaths due to cancer/etc. -- I can understand their need for connection. The problem is if they don't connect with another widow/widower, the new person can't relate to their connection with their dead partner. ("Get over it"). So it doesn't seem to end well for many. Fortunately, I have plenty of friends and family to talk to, so don't need to (or want to) troll those waters. I had good talks with friends/family that are still accepting and grieving; Debi, Gina, Mary (Mom), as well as friends and others. So not collapsing into the pit of solitary confinement. I'm learning from watching these groups, others, and myself, that there are these waves of normalcy, guilt over the normalcy ("how can you laugh", etc.). But life is for the living, and it has to go on. There are things that interest me on the groups though, like people moving to try to escape the memory of their past, and so on. And a lot that I can't related to -- like those having to find new co-Parent for their children, or that they want to start a family before it's too late for them, but they aren't ready. I can't directly relate to all of it, but some of it. (Not planning on any big changes for a while). I ran into the guys at the gym this morning on the way to my swim. And talked with the guy (Richard) that I'd unloaded on last Wed. We laughed, "It'd have been a great line, if I hadn't of lost my shit". He was more concerned about connecting up and what he could have done to help (unless you do re-incarnations, there isn't much). So a few of us exchanged contact info. And I remembered their names from last week. This sounds silly, but names were not my thing, I remember conversations (and can often play them back verbatim) and people, just not names -- Melissa remembered names/relations/and so on. We joked that between us, we make a good person. Now that she's gone, I've got to pickup the slack. And my brain seems to be adapting. I can't rely on her any more. Hopefully, this sticks and I can become a better person by being more like her. The grief makes your emotional cup full, seems to be a really good metaphor I invented. It works for me, and others I talked to in greif. Little things just cause the cup to spill over. So something like the loss of a neighbor you hardly knew, a pet, or anything goes from sad, to tragedy. Our housecleaner and I talked about grief; she liked Melissa and could tell what a sparkling person she was. And she talked about the loss of her baby -- and how she reacted to that. It was good that I could listen to someone else's story and let them vent, even many years later. It seems to be everyone's way of saying, "this person mattered!" I told her about the thing that helped me; that we don't put them behind us, just carry them forward with us. And she liked that. She thinks that wave 2 of greif will hit me, once I get past the memorial. Because for now, I'm keeping busy with that, and planning, and trying to pickup the slack around the house, etc... but then the new normal sets in, and it's without my love. In the end, I have it easy. I got used to living without intimacy as a child, we... er, I now, don't have any financial struggles (just lots of obligations that keep me busy). I had to prepare on the idea that I might lose her someday, and had a month of yo-yo ups and downs and crying at potential losses of her quality of life (please don't make my baby blind), and all that makes acceptance much easier for me than most. I don't have work over-pressuring me. I have great support from friends/family, and I can keep busy with some activities (and have to). I don't have the stress of young kids and finding them a replacement parent, or being an insecure female with her biological clock ticking while coping with that loss, and I'm not losing my home (as some go through). I'm not a shut-in. So I try to keep perspective. My grief is real, but I'm crying with a silver spoon in my mouth. I lost the best person I know, and had a great life/partner that I appreciated and celebrated for 32 years, but never could have appreciated enough. Yet there are a lot of people out there that have it a LOT worse than I do, even if I was married to a wonderfully giving, neat/organization freak, ADHD energizer bunny, almost-saint (with a large helping of stubborn). God, I miss her every day. Now back to admnistration... have to get the car safety inspected for re-registration, keep powering through 5+ weeks of mail, and figure out a filing/property management system that was NOT designed by an engineer or for one.

Day 9

           Main article: Grief/Day 9

59 Candles Yesterday I got the car safety inspected and the registration mailed off, did more paperwork/mail (almost there), dealt with notifying a few more people that hadn't known about M, or asked questions on FB or via Melissa's phone/texts... I informed one old friend that was always concerned that my Political venting on FB would hurt my advancement in Silicon Valley. Of course he's right, but I bit my tongue and had to shutup all day, every day, to get along; I needed an outlet against collectivist bullying. He reminded me of a few times that I'd stepped up to try to help him out, including one that I'd mostly forgotten, where I'd taken corporate political risks to press why was he getting black-balled? It was really nice that he remembered a small act of kindness. I decided to take a break from adulting and watch a movie in the theaters. I'd seen the other 3 John Wick's by myself, so why not #4? Melissa liked Fast and Furious, Mission Impossible or Bond type action, but not Wick type action. And I liked Films more (it was the only shared activity of my Mom and me?), while M was also harder to slow down (She worried about all the stuff she could do in that time). In the end, the series had started with stylistic over-the-top Gun-Fu choreography but got more and more absurd as the series wore on. This one continued the trend of "Peter Jackson's brevity with Michael Bay's camera style" into one continues shoot-out... but added sword play with moronic bullet proof suit invincibility. It would have been a complete write-off, except for a brilliant top-view action scene that brought 2.5D gaming to film; but 169 minutes long, for 5 minutes of "oh that's new/well done", is a hefty price. It could have been 45+ minute shorter and not left out any key killing/plot points. It ended the series, and left room for the spin-offs based on the characters; Black Wick, Blind Wick and Chick Wick. (Seriously). They were only missing Gay Wick and Teenage Angst Wick. Today I woke up to my first Birthday without Melissa. Ah yes, grief is a series of firsts. I never cared about Birthdays, partly because my family sometimes forgot mine... and when they didn't, it would have likely been better if they had. Mom always knew the perfect gift for herself, and figured if she liked it that I would too, and we were polar opposites. Like the Laguna Beach Art-Glass paperweight for my High School Graduation, just what every teenage boy wants! So before Melissa, Birthdays were a disappointment. After her, it was more about her company than gifts. But while cleaning/organizing, I found enough old Visa gift cards to her, that are are burning a hole in my pocket. I was reflecting on why I'm was recovering from a devistating loss so much better than many others I read/watch about. Of course, I think some more of it will hit me after the memorial, and this is really passed. But occasional crying jags, and forced adulting? Meh. Living without her smile or wrinkled brow frown line? That's hard. Not to go melancholy/dark but... I spent the first 8 years of my life self sufficient and without enough of the maternal love of a Mom. She was barely 19 when she had me, and I reminded her of her biggest mistake. (I did get love from Grandparents during summers, or neighbors Mom's that felt bad for me, especially after knowing my Mom). I remember being left alone frequently in our ghetto appartment with vivid memories of my cooking stool (so I could stand on it to see onto the stove when I cooked myself meals); we moved from that place in 1st grade, and I was a year ahead. The next place (Fountain Valley), I remember being alone so much (both parents worked), that when I came home one day, I pondered suicide to teach them a lesson. I had the chefs knife and was considering whether I should run into a wall with it pointed at my gut, or fall on it. But I was pretty sure it wouldn't be as neat and painless as TV shows implied, and didn't like the idea of failure. We moved a while later, and then my brother was born. When Devon was born, I spent the next 8+ years seeing that it wasn’t that Mom was completely incapable of giving love — just unwilling to give it to me (but would to him). Friends would ask the obvious, "How does it feel being the less preferred child?"... I started being a bitter/mean/angry as a teen (shocking, I know). I was picked on as a kid and abused by step-Dad, so around 8th grade I started to repeat the pattern. A school counseler asked me if I wanted to become what I despised, and it took me a few years of self-reprogramming to break that pattern, but I diverted it to becoming a martial artist that taught others how to defend against bullies. I had figured out sexual intercourse with the help of my brother's babysitter for a 6 month fling at age 9 (a story for another time). Then we tragically moved, and I spent most of my teen years trying to find another girlfriend to reciprocate love with. But I was pimply, precocious, genius/geek kid with low self esteem and often withdrawn. Let's just say I went through a ten year dry spell... at the time, I turned my free time into computer hacking, cracking and Aerospace consulting before I was out of High School. Then in my 20s I got a weird virus, that turned into social phobia/anxiety disorder -- so I had to re-program and desensitize myself for years to get over that, along with the isolation it brought. (Still not a fan of long drives). The point is not "woe is me"... or "I had a tough life"... during those times, I always knew people that had it far worse. It's that my heart survived without the reciprocation of love for the first couple decades of my life and I was able to use it to make myself into a better person. I forgave my Mom and Step-Dad (more or less), and moved on. Thus an era of no love/intimacy is just telling the loner he has to be a loner again. Meh. While I FAR prefer being a partner, I just don’t have any of the fear/angst that many others seem to. And I'm older, wiser, have a far better circle of friends/family/communuty and activities than I did back then. So I miss the opportunities of not being able to make her happy -- because that made me almost as happy as when I was annoying her. But someday, I assume I'll find another cute girl to tug at her pony tail. And until then, I'm fine. It feels like there's this undertone when people say, "Are you alright?", like they're saying, "You're not going to take yourself out, are you?" There's a light mental chuckle... this sucks. Bad. I miss my wife many times a day. But I got 32 of the best years of my life with a woman I loved. I'm going to carry our memories forward. If I ever took myself out, it would be because of irreversible medical issues, not because of loneliness. And I have plenty of activities and can self-entertain to not really be lonely. I don't mind myself. I just really miss her.

Day 10

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A different world For my Birthday, I just tried to keep myself busy and live like Melissa was on Flying in heaven. It's not really denial, but she was a flight attendant for nearly two decades. So her being gone for a week or two at a time, was part of us being together. I'm hoping that's not delaying a second wave of loss, the first is hard enough. But it's not THAT abnormal for us to be apart -- even if it's been a few years since she was COVID force-retired. We also had separate bedrooms; starting with heart issues when we were newlyweds she needed her own bed in recovery, and then since we have separate sleep schedules/styles, it stuck. The struggles others have without their partner sleeping next to them, isn't as bad. I get the loss every morning when I wake up, and remember she's not her, and I don't have to be quiet until Sleeping Beauty awakes. (Never wake a sleeping dragon). Or in the house at night. Where's my babbling brook talking to herself next to me through TV shows, or during the day, when she furiosly decided that a business meeting is the best time to vacuum? (She could be frenetic about cleaning when she saw something out of place). There's still a HUGE absense, it's just different. I went to lunch with my banking friends, had good food/convos with them. We talked about normal people stuff, and the charity Melissa and I had done a few events with, that I'm going to add to the Memorial (Addis Faith), I'm trying to get all the details for that before sending out the final RSVP/Invite for April 30th ("in lieu of flowers, here's how to donate"). Should get that done on Monday. I did Wed Shooting Night with friend Mike all over again for my Birthday. He was doing hand cannon night, where his small gun was the Desert Eagle 50AE, and a bigger revolver that made everyone on the range take notice. BOOM! I fired a few rounds competent enough, but they wear on my wrist. And I bought myself a new gun that I liked with all these left over Visa Gift Cards and bonus points we hadn't used. I hate having things unfinished, and all these $25 and $50 cards drove me nuts, but it was funny making 15 transactions to buy a gun. The guys were laughing/teasing -- I should have paid the rest in quarters. So I got a new S&W M&P 5.7. Basically, my Ruger 5.7 was one of my favorite guns, but even with my custom trigger work I did it was only OK in the trigger, and I stripped the optic plate so doesn't have an optic, and need to get a new plate for it (grrr). The S&W started with a co-witnessed optic cut, thinner, 22 round capacity (instead of 20), and a MUCH better trigger (internal hammer is a better design). A better and cheaper gun. I shot it OK out of the box, but I'll tweak/practice. Then I bashed my head on a target hanger while bending down (a piece of metal welded to the edge of the lane wall). I convinced the Range guys it was a Ricochet so they were impressed with my manly demeanor while having a lightly bleeding head wound. A little alcohol and ointment, and confessions on what really happened, and I was good as new. The we went to our local pub and they were doing a "Spicy Ruben" where the meat was boiled in Crawfish Boil Spices. Whew, that was salty and spicy -- I'm going to revist that thing again today. Not bad, different, should have just had the burnt cow. I didn't realize I hadn't told one of our friends (T), but she called and I was fine. I was telling the casual/lighter stories and the mundane stuff about the memorial/etc that don't bother me... then I realized she hadn't read the blog, and wanted deepeer. So I went back and told her those stories of what happened, what we went through, and got my cry on. Melissa just wanting her old life back or just having peace, me having to give it to her -- her no longer being here (in her happy place), and how much I miss her. Having to hurt (or share the hurt) with others makes my cup runeth over, there's too much hurt in the world for me right now. Telling another friend the night before the same stories wasn't bad; it was my friend and he never knew Melissa so he was more concerned with me, thus repeating it didn't hurt him, so I was fine. It's when people knew Melissa and how great she was, and they're grieving over my words, that it cuts me. If it's in the abstract, or just about me? It doesn't sting much. Many people called me for my birthday, and most kept in on the birthday. So it was fairly light and easy day. Not sure people enjoy my reply when they ask me if there's anything they can do for me, "Do you do resurections?" To me, that's a light way of acknowledging what we're thinking and letting them know I'm OK and still thinking of her. But I think to them, it's more a reminder that I'm still a little broken and grieving. Life is fine. I'm livig it, and carrying her memory forward. I don't feel bad all the time, or even most of the time. I just focus on day-to-day and I'm good. Many times a day (or more), Melissa will come in my thoughts or conversations in a good way; 32 years of being together can't avoid that, I'm not trying to, and it doesn't hurt (I know she's gone, but she's still a major part of my life), as they're good memories and she'll always be a part of me. But a few times (at least), the loss/hurt/absense is involved; my light, my friend, my conscience/balance, my lover, she's missing and I miss her so much. That part, I keep more in private, most of the time, because I want others and myself to remember all the good she did and not wallow in the loss of her absense. She was a good person. She brightened every room. Let's focus on that. NOT in denial that she's gone (I KNOW that every day), but because that's what she wants us to remember.

Day 11

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Walker, Texas Ranger When Melissa would go out of town (flight attendant), I'd get far more shit done than when she was in town. This hasn't changed with her flight to heaven. I get up earlier, I'm not on her schedule, and nobody else was going to do it. She'd bargain hunt, get her Rakuten points, and wanted to do things together; which was fine, but took longer. Now I don't wait for her to get up (or get back from runs/work-out) for errands, just need -> do! Meal is microwave, snarf, throw away plastic. Guys hunt and kill the first thing they see then move on. This isn't always better, just different. I miss being frustrated while she's trying to decide between two different values that don't matter a lick to me, or getting distracted by something that's the perfect gift for someone's birthday that I won't remember. Thus I bought new Swimsuits (the form-fitting swim-shorts swimmers wear that are more modest than a speedo but still let everyone know that you're circumcised. (Bike shorts without the padding). Amazon had my old order from 3 years ago; buy two. They came, I put one on Saturday and went to my swim. 3 years ago I'd lost 50 lbs, and Melissa food sabotaged me until I'd slowly put much of that weight back on. These were double-re-inforced super-spanks that were so snug I couldn't pee in the pool because everything was pretty kinked up and choked off. I didn't need to worry about people seeing my junk, because this pretty much forced it all underneath or inside; I could work a fat-tranny bar. My cousin said to wear board shorts, but swimmers don't do board shorts... the dumb ones just wear smalls and hope they stretch (or I shrink). They're aspirational, and I have no modesty, so who cares? But I did have to explain to the guys in the locker room that I wasn't self-gratifying afterwards, just trying to get some feeling back in my boy-parts after chinese foot binding trunks. Adulting I spent part of the day cleaning up (adulting). I cleaned out her Hospital Bags and more of her room; we've got face-leaking, talking to her and cursing. I'm getting her room more prepared for me living in it before guests come for the memorial. But this crying/self-pity bullshit feels too ground-hog day. Woke up, still no wife. Did things, still no wife. It's sunk in, but it's a cut/disappointment every single day. Last night was the first night I slept in her bed since she passed. (I did a little when she was in the hospital just to smell her on the sheets and feel closer to her). While cleaning up her hospital clothes, I stupidly smelled her on some, and lost my shit. I skipped NyQuil, so only got 6 hours -- and harder bed (she's back sleeper, I'm side) so I woke a few times. It'll get better. I did returns yesterday. Clothes I bought for the Hospital (Walmart), some she'd wanted to return to Academy; she'd haunt me if I wasted the money and didn't get refunds/credit. Both were helpful. Macy's were assholes, "this was for Christmas, you missed the 90 day return Window" (by a couple weeks)... I tried guilting them using the "sorry, my wife was in the hospital and just died last week", "Sorry, store policy". Yeah, fuck you too lady. Melissa would have been proud at my returning skills, or pissed that she could have had me taking things back on my own all these years. Melissa sent me a card on grief that arrived yesterday. Melissa (working for American Greetings), often has left over or throw-away cards (or Vickie/neighbor would sometimes share batches that she got at a flea market). Melissa would share extras with friends and family that are card writers. Cousin Trish had gotten a batch and sent me one of the cards on grief that was from Melissa. Nice of Trish. Nice of Melissa. Nice message. "Grief never ends, but it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, not a lack of faith, it is the price of love." A grief friend said that losing his wife made him a better person. I can see that. You start doing more for yourself (and others?), and do things they would do to let their echos live on through you. I aspire to be more considerate, like she was. I went to a crawfish boil at a friend (Bo's) house. It was nice getting out and I stayed longer than prior years; I was able to mingle and chat, and didn't bring up my wife inappropriately. Someone asked, and I mentioned she'd passed... while my head is thinking, "...last week". I talked cars with one guy and showed him the Tesla. I talked fligth attending with a long time flight attendant neighbor. I'm not a huge crawfish eater any more (too much work), but it was tasty and spicy and something diferent. I snarfed a few sausage, mushrooms, corn as well. Fun night, but I left by 8:00. A lot of people on the grief forums seem to complain about feeling guilty having fun, and I ask them would their "Lates" have wanted them to have fun? The answer is, "yeah"... but I feel a little of the guilt too. Why am I laughing when she's gone? She would have enjoyed this. And so on. (Do as I say, not as I do). I recognize the voices, and mostly ignore them -- "fake it 'till you make it". It's nice interacting with people.

Day 12

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Cheers I moved more of my things from my room into Melissa's rooms (toiletries, some clothes), and that means cleaning a few things out. Like all her drugs (except for perscription Nexium, I'll give that to someone as it's so common). Girly lotions and stuff (I'll give those to friends). I don't know what these moisturizers do, but I know I'll never use them, and based on the price, I think they're made from extra virgin Unicorn placenta. (I don't hurt about things being boxed/saved, or going to people she'd want to have them. But throwing things out that make no sense to save but mattered to her, like pills/eyedrops/mouthgaurd; those are the toughest). I started to clean up her phone, by moving accounts/apps to my phone. Eventually my phone has double SIM cards, so I can move her number to mine, and give her phone away. But not until I'm sure if have everything off of it. That's going to be a long slow process. I went out to a place that was called BackPew Brewery -- it was an old church converted to a Brewery in Porter. They had great beer (I had one), awesome little HotDog stand called Divine Dogs (that won best Dog award). I had a Tijuana Delux (regular dog with gormet fixins), but they do dogs made with real Venison or Aligotor. I asked if the Vegan Dog was made with real Vegans; the owner liked that. I chatted with her for a while about their business; great story. I was going to go be social and get out of the house (there was some "meet" of Humanists/etc, and I was thinking might be interesting to get some intellectual stimulation), but they were a lot of dog people who knew each others names and my brain went to "Melissa might have enjoyed this" so dropped out of social mode and slinked away. Still, I successfully explored something new, and will go back. So a baby step for the day. I talked with a few people on the phone (as usual) about Melissa, still informing or going over what happened. So many people loved her. Even people that only know me is sometimes hard, depending on if I'm sticking with the clinical or emotional parts of what happened. And I had dinner with the nieghbors (Bruce and Dawn). Talked about all sort of things (including M). It was nice. Great little HotDog Cart/stand. They have 2 and are opening a container restruant in Woodlands. The Tijuana Dog was delicious - all beef, but a lot of goodies that worked well together. Old country church, converted into a Brewery While they kept the theme, they were respectful enough about it. Good that the property didn't go fallow. Grief Poem I jump around on various forums and groups and look at other peopele's greif, try to offer advice, or share, and just try understand. I hacked up a grief poem I found... I didn't like some stanzas/verses, so I reodered and edited it to fit me better. The tears drying as they fall off your cheek, Time goes by, another day or week. Knowing they're in a better place, while terribly missing their warm embrace. Wishing to hear their voice one more time, Seeing their smile in your dreams is sublime, Until you awake alone with a hole in your heart, Wishing that you could go back to the start. The feeling of emptiness, gutted, embellished with pain. The feeling that your heart will never beat the same. The feeling that the irrevocable has been done, The feeling you want to cry, to scream, or to run. Finding the strength to carry on, It's love that we have left for the one who's gone. Grief will never end, although it will change... Our life goes on, an echo of our beloved, but completely rearranged.

Day 13

           Main article: Grief/Day 13

The Long Kiss Goodnight I was normally using 80s TV shows and movies as subtexts for the days. I don't know why; no real reason. This one was a 90's movie with Gina Davis. My friend/neighbor Rich suggested I watch (rewatch) it for dumb escapism. So I did. Good enough to entertain, and kill a couple hours. On a grief forum some people were talking about Music and how cathartic it is. I was thinking, almost every break up song on the radio gets me... even happy old ones, “baby come back", and I'm singing with tears. I know they aren’t about that kind of loss, but my heart doesn’t care. “Bye Bye miss American pie", that has nothing to do with losing your wife, and I’m bawling, “my love levy is dry” or “the day the music died”. It doesn’t have to make sense, my ad libbed lyrics seldom do. But it's not always what the artist meant, but how you take it. And while I'm generally pretty good, it's easy to wallow when grieving. I started re-homing a few things. Girly lotions and potions that I'm never going to use. Estrovent, Black Cohosh. And throwing away drugs. Slowly doing the move into the big room. It's about the progress, not about the destination. I'm finally, almost completely on-top of all the paperwork, and getting people paid off, etc. She did have most things on auto-pay, but I wanted to validate each of the paper bills, and I keep moving things (passwords, apps, websites, etc) from her laptop to mine, or her phone to mine -- but that's going to be a longer process. Next comes reconciling all the bills and entering them into our tracking sheets/logs (which I found) to make taxes next year eassier. This years, I just had an extension filed and will deal with later. (Sigh). I picked Melissa up yesterday from the crematorium. Libby (Funeral Director) was still nice. Melissa's Urn looked good. (I have to go back for the death certs). I got the Titatnium leg-rod and Pacemaker -- I think internal parts creep some other people out (Vickie) as they were inside her body, but to me, they're just parts of my lovely cyborg wife (1 of 1), she would be fascinated by them. I was surprised they cremated Melissa back on the 28th, I thought they'd call and tell me. But the extra parts do hint that what I got was her. The cremains are a lot more crystalized than I expected. I was thinking more powder form. I think Libby was more used to people crying when they picked them up or held their loved ones. I mentioned that 97% of the person goes up the chimney, so these are just the 3% that don't evaporate. It's symbolically her, even if it's only 3% of her. It's kinda nice to have something to talk to when you're talking to someone. But I'm just not that sentimental towards ashes of our body. Once libby started asking me about Melissa, or I started showing her pictures of our life, that's when the tears start. We had such a good life together, and I so wanted to give her more and have more time. That stings more to me than the fact that these are her ashes, and the rest of her is stardust in the wind. Melissa on the mantle, with her cyborg parts

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Grief 02/18 my wife had a 2023_Heart_Attack, and passed away on 03/22/23; the hardest day of my life. Except for the ones after it.

Tags: Grief/Weeks