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I told my doctor 2 (or 3) weeks ago that I was falling apart. I said this because the night before I had a fleeting thought that if I believed that there was a guarantee that I’d be with Michael I’d seriously think about ending it now.

Then a few days later I thought about the fact that I had that very morbid thought and that the person that Michael fell in love would never have that thought. The person Michael fell in love with was not clingy, whiny, needy, weak or desperate. This person would not be very attractive to him. That’s not who I am and not who he fell in love with. And besides, his first words would be, “What about the kids?” He would be disappointed in me and he never ever was disappointed in me. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint him for all of eternity, that’s for sure. 🙂

I don’t know what happened after that. It’s as if my brain snapped back into my head. And I decided that I wasn’t falling apart. And I wasn’t going to fall apart and there is no reason to fall apart. Michael’s been gone 4 months but I’ve been grieving forcefully for 15 months. That’s a long time to feel awful every single day.

I have great kids, adorable grandkids, wonderful friends and a lot of people who depend on GPYP to get through things.

And I don’t know what happened at that point. But something happened. It’s like I saw the bottom and it’s not pretty and I have to work harder on getting up to the top.

It’s been quite a few days since I cried and last night I went through the office and put some of Michael’s things away so that I can make decisions about them later. I found an old tie bag with a bunch of wheatback pennies in it and I asked Gina if she wanted it. She did. She said “He had the coolest stuff.” And I smiled. All the “stuff” that is making me crazy…yes some of it is very cool and I should not be quick to make decisions about it.
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I think that part of my issue with pulling apart so much of Michael’s stuff is that so much of it belonged to his family…his mother’s family…and through those things I almost feel as if I know them.

Not that Michael was particularly beloved by them or they by him…there was his inattentiveness, his lack of self-discipline, his rebellious nature, in what was a strict Sicilian household. He and his mother lived with his very strict grandfather who had them all, his oldest son, his daughter and Michael’s mother, all under his thumb.
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Yesterday I realized that I had forgotten Michael’s username and password to his email. I’ve always had it to send his resumes or anything with attachments (he couldn’t get the hang of that) and he rarely changed it. But I sat stumped yesterday.

It seems like some things are slipping away…I know it’s natural but it feels as if something is fading….perhaps it’s not Michael…perhaps it’s just the us in us. Maintaining his computer, installing his software, troubleshooting when he got a virus, sending his resumes…those were all things that I did.

Last night when I was dead tired and dreading the ride home, I could have called him and said, “Honey, come and get me” and he would have….those are the things he did. I thought about it for a second and didn’t cry the way I sometimes do when I realize he’s not there to do that.

A woman on the bus was talking about getting her husband the golf game for the Wii and I thought, only for a second, that he would have liked that. Then I turned away.

I’m in sort of a weird, odd space right now.

My firm’s holiday party is tonight and I won’t be attending. On this day people tend to do the Secret Santa and other things in the office. Today is no exception. Only I’m not participating in any way.

I remember when we did the Secret Santa at my first law firm. That was a fun and funny day. I remember uproarious laughter at the crazy gifts. It is still a sparkling memory.

Today that uproarious laughter emanates from one of the conference rooms. I’m not there. I’m not in any way, shape or form ready to be there. I’ve declined to participate in the holiday merriment.

However, I didn’t think it would bother me. But it does. When I heard it, I thought, “I remember when I was happy.” And I sat in my office and cried. It was completely, COMPLETELY, shocking to me that I would break down like that. But I did.

Not that I’ll never be happy again but these are not the carefree days of just six years ago. Even though there were issues back then with where I was working and where I was living, I could throw them off for a while and enjoy laughing with people I really liked.
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Yesterday I was walking quickly through the Seattle airport and suddenly realized that I felt like my “pre-Michael’s illness” self. I felt strong and confident and not terribly weepy or depressed. I didn’t feel like I was holding a bunch of tears at bay while I showed a public face which is how I feel just about every second of every day.

It was as I write about, when I write about grief, it was a glimpse…a short-lived glimpse…into integration and acceptance. Into what is possibly on the other side of this unimaginable grief.

I breezed through the rental car renting and the rental car trunk not opening and set the GPS and took off somewhat merrily.

While in traffic (I never knew traffic was this bad in Seattle…) I started to think about Michael and how there was so much I wanted to tell him…mostly about my day and my flight and a few thoughts I had about a few things. He lived in Washington state for a short time and I wanted to talk to him about THAT. I looked down at my cell phone. There was no one to call.

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