There’s nothing pretty going on with me these days. Tonight is 4 weeks since Handsome Husband died. One month. All I feel is a great gaping emptiness in my world, right where he’s supposed to be standing.
I’ve felt great grief before, in my life. My brother and my mom, both dead of cancer within 6 months of one another and my entire world was rocked silly. And it was Handsome Husband who pulled me through it. Their deaths led me, ultimately, into hospice care and then the founding of Tapestries of Hope, and again, Handsome Husband was my primary support.
I know all the intellectual stuff about processing grief. From past experience, I know the emotional process that needs to be gone through. I know that it’s good to be proactive in grief, to make time work for you rather than against you. But you know what? I can’t make myself care about any of that. I know that what I’m going through is normal and that’s about all I can say. I’m making myself go out and do things, join in things, but it continues to be meaningless. Food means nothing to me. Nothing means nothing to me any longer, if that makes sense.
I’ve been here in Arizona, at my daughter’s house, for just about a week, though I’m looking for a place to rent for the month of June. A room maybe, rather than a furnished studio even-I don’t want much room to move around in or feel lonely in. It devastated me to leave California, as desperately as I wanted to leave. That’s the last place Handsome Husband and I were together and I felt like I was leaving him behind. I actually got the dry heaves right before I left. Grief never did that to me before.
It feels better being around my daughter and son here and I know I’m in a safe place to fall apart, which I’ve been doing on a steady basis. These tears are a new kind of tears for me too-coming up from my gut and spewing throughout my body. Yes, yes, all part of the process. What I’ve come to realize, in looking at the good old cycles of grief handbook, and common grief reactions, is that not only is there no pattern, which most people fortunately realize in this day and age, but that each of the cycles and reactions can happen rapid-fire, one after the other, and return to the originating point numerous times within an hour period, never mind a day.
I miss Handsome Husband acutely. From having been around each other on a massively steady basis for the last almost 4 years to not having him anywhere around now for a month is completely disorienting to me.
I expect him, still, to come walking in the door and say to me “Wow, that was a weird experience”. And the we’ll talk about how completely weird and upsetting it was, and has been, and then we’ll get on with our lives together. And I’ll never let him go. Once he walks back into my life, I mean. Because I can’t tolerate the idea that he won’t. That he isn’t. That he never will again. That he’s gone. Forever.