Thursday, August 11, 2011
One Is A Lonely Number
I lost my husband, John, on July 24th, just shy of three weeks ago. I don't wish to say anything further about that other than it's obviously been the most painful time in my life thus far.
During John's month-long hospitalization, I went a little crazy with trying to stay positive and strong for him, trying to understand what the doctors were/weren't saying and having a hard time with my gnawing fear of losing him. Now that that has become a reality, I'm trying to get back into life and learn to get along. Right now it's not easy being "just Amy", instead of half of the dynamo-team, "Amy and John".
I've tried dipping my toes back into the reading waters and while it's difficult to concentrate at times, it's something that I can use to while away an hour or two. The shitty part is that I still use my "retail therapy" tactics to pep myself up by buying a couple of ebooks for my Nook. During the last couple of weeks while my mom was still here (she stayed with me for a month and a half, almost from the beginning of John's stay at the hospital), I've dabbled in housework, trying to stay busy, chores, and the load of legal crap that's involved with someone's death. My massive TBR collection has been moved around -- seriously, it took four of us to take 2/3 of it and put in the office -- and now I'm at a loss as to how to sort through and weed it. But it needs to be done. Now I don't have to worry about the bedroom floor collapsing downstairs onto my neighbors head from the massive weight.
I started this post feeling a bit, I don't know, lost. And trust me, the sadness and sense of "what do I do now?" can be crippling more often than not -- but now I have a game plan for at least today. Go through the damned books. It's not getting done on its own, and I think John is asserting his ghostly self by toppling a couple of stacks over as I've wandered about the house this morning.