Monday, December 3, 2012

Midnight worries

I worry about what the cost of his (willed) cremation will really end up costing me. I had to pay upfront for it, and I still have not received any benefit money from Social Security.
I worry about the memorial.
I worry about rent, and other things, little and big.


I worry about how I will feel when more of his things are gone after this weekend when they are taken home by the people he wanted them to go to.
I worry I might enjoy having more space, and a chance to start to put the house the way I want.
I worry if I enjoy it, it means I am not missing him as I 'should'.

I worry about the week, and once my friends leave and my family too (temporary though it is) how lonely I will feel.

I worry about trying to find the right words for Saturday.

I worry about paperwork with DES and for my insurance.

I worry a lot about being poor.

I worry about my debts, and my husbands, and how they might effect me when I decide to go back to a school. I worry about working so hard, paying taxes, and still having to file for medical bankruptcy next year; depend on what the lawyer says.

I worry about the holidays, and feeling alone without him.

I worry about how much pain my heart hurts for this time right now; living alone for the first few years was a choice I made on my own. Living alone now is not by either of our wish.

I worry about waking up Christmas morning in a cold, empty, quiet house.
I worry about having no one to celebrate Hannukah with. I remember Wash working so hard to learn the Hebew prayers.

I worry about saying good-bye to him in a symbolic and final way.

I worry so much about my life is both the same and so unstructured; yet I'm not ready to change myself yet.

I worry about trying to communicate with the ones around me, and either not saying something that can be understood; or saying the wrong thing altogether.
I worry about how many people I will still have in my life next year.

I worry it is not acceptable to find moments to try to laugh.
I worry it is not acceptable if I don't laugh "more" now.

I worry about how confused I am that all I'm hearing is contradictions around me; specific advice on what to do at "this point"; specific advice to listen to no advice but my own wants.

I worry about the memories to come this week and month.

I worry about facing everything.

I worry so much about what will come next.

I worry how confused I am to feel so aged and mature, and so scared and young at the same time.

I worry how much I might forget about him.

Always worries.
Sometimes saying them lets them go. Sometimes not.

5 comments:

  1. Many hugs, and a reminder that however you feel about missing Wash is right. Grief isn't something you can measure with a yardstick. There are no "shoulds" or "musts." It's OKAY to be relieved that you have more space, or to enjoy watching something he wouldn't have liked (you would have enjoyed it anyway even if he were here). There aren't any right or wrong feelings. Feelings exist outside of that. You just feel how you feel.

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  2. 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?

    Matthew 6:26,27

    I always repeat these verses when I am worrying too much. May they comfort you as they do me.

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  3. There is no "right" way to do things. There is no "official" timetable for your feelings, for the passing along of Wash's things, for the working of your grief. Listen politely to those who try to advise, but follow your heart. This is not something you just "put behind you" and I really hope no one is telling you that's what you should be doing.

    I have been through plenty of grief. I've never lost a spouse, but have lost many, many other loved ones, some of them very young...to cancer, car accidents, war.

    Getting through "today" is sufficient.

    {{{hugs}}}

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  4. ...just take each day. That's all you need to worry about.
    It's been 3 years since I lost my mum and my Dad is only now returned to his old self and laughing and sparkling like he once did. The pain is still there, but he can face it. Having watched him, and dealt with my own grief, all I can offer is this: Noone can tell you what to do or feel, and I wish I could tell you when will stop hurting like this...but I can't. I'm sorry you have to be alone with this right now...

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  5. So sorry for all of your burdens. Sending you peaceful thoughts.

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