For the past few weeks I’ve had this overwhelming feeling of being tired of grieving. Tired of missing Michael. Tired of what my life is now without him. Not that it’s bad or terrible, but I get tired of being without him. Of wishing he were here.

I just decided to stop the whole thing. Stop grieving. Stop missing. I’ve floated into and out of anger. I’ve put my wedding rings back on and taken them off and put them back on.

I spent weeks avoiding the void. Whenever I wanted to cry I would think, “I’m just sick of that. I don’t want to.” And I wouldn’t.

Then yesterday, for whatever reason, I looked up the address of our house in Texas. And it had been sold by the woman who bought it from us and it was on Trulia. The house was beautiful and near perfect when we sold it, but she put all hardwoods, redid the kitchen cabinets and counters and built a stunning deck and put in a magnificent garden path down to the woods.

As I was looking at it I reached for the phone to call Michael and tell him about it.

And it was then that I fell apart. Again.

I emailed the link to two of the boys and we talked about it.

But it wasn’t the same. My son Michael said, “We had some good times in that house.” Not that I know of it. I was working. Then I relocated to NYC while we tried to sell it…and it took almost 2 years and Michael and I had a commuter marriage that no one believed would work. But it did.

Because we were us. That’s why it worked. And we talked every single day and went back and forth.

But other things happened that weren’t so great. Our dog died while in the care of the pet sitter while we were doing Christmas in New York. It was not the pet sitter’s fault but we were bereft that this wonderful dog died without us there. And I know Michael felt as if he had personally abandoned him.

But we made the best of it. I lived in Manhattan. Michael fished almost every day in Texas. We each enjoyed our space and time that the other did not particularly care for.

And it brought back to me how special we were. It looked kind of weird from the outside in, but we were so deeply connected that 1500 miles simply didn’t matter that much.

Part of the decision was for me to have some city time before I had to move out again. Right before Michael got sick he talked about moving to the city, but I would have never asked him to do that because I know he wouldn’t have been happy. Giving me some time in the city was supposed to be something that would tide me over for some years to come.

Despite the fact that we lived apart for almost 2 years, I don’t regret that decision. I wanted to come back to NY. I’m glad I’m back here. He wasn’t ready to come back north and the house was not selling. It was right for us at the time. Would I have done it if I knew we didn’t have much time left? No, of course not. But knowing what I knew then, it was right.

The biggest drain was on our finances, paying rent in NYC and a mortgage in Dallas. And we bought our house high because we simply couldn’t take the separation and we were going to refinance but never did. And the burden is more than I can bear alone.

So there were consequences to that decision. But I know it was a decision made with love. I wanted/needed to come back to NY. I needed time in the city. Michael had grown used to fishing year-round between living in California and Texas. He did not want to come back to winter. No one really understood how we did what we did, but it was a pretty “us” thing to do. Because the distance didn’t divide us and when we were each “done” with the situation, we changed it. And we were both “done” at the same time. Which is how we were.

And all this came back to me and my resolve to stop crying and stop reminiscing and stop stop stop the wheel in my head just crumbled.

Today I’m still weepy and know I’ll climb back on the continuum when I’m ready.

I am moving forward…I know I am….but for today I’m standing still….

It is what it is.