To blog or not to blog.

Four weeks ago Chris died, suddenly, in a manner that has shaken me physically, spiritually, emotionally and even socially in a way I could never have understood prior to now.

That morning he was wearing a red t-shirt that said 'Cougar Cage Camp'. I knew he had owned that shirt for a long time. Posthumously I found out that the shirt is about 17 years old. My last view of Chris in this world was him ascending my stairwell, the back of that red shirt and the back of his head. Our last conversation was about our children.

Where to find solace?

I am not sure if that is really a question or a conundrum. Do I find solace in the memories? The thoughts of the Other Side? His Clothes? His kids? All of these are a double edged sword. With each comes not only peace but the realization that this is permanent, final, absolute and that the life I was leading at 9 a.m. on Wednesday November 17, 2010, no longer resembled the life I was leading by 10 a.m that same day.

Blindsided.

I say that, but is it true? In retrospect I see events, conversations, thoughts, dreams that I wonder if they foreshadowed the events that would transpire.

Chris had a dream about a month before he died that bothered him. In his dream someone was trying to take Owen away from him. It was just the two of them and he was physically fighting this person to keep Owen. Chris wasn't bothered by much especially a dream. But this dream was different. He said it seemed so real.

I heard a cough. I heard a thud. A regular morning.

I wonder how long it took him to realize what was happening or if he was already gone from his body before the realization came. I wonder why I wasn't intended to save him but only to find him. In the same breath, I am thankful it was me.

What, then, is grief?

I remember on 9/11 feeling an overwhelming sense of grief. I couldn't figure out why it shook me so much. I felt heavy, slow, sad and on edge with my emotions. Strangers.

I think grief has felt different each of the past 29 days. Disbelief. Shock. Sadness. Terror. Nauseating.

Today it feels heavy. I have grown accustomed to the 'elephant on my chest' phenomenon. Today I managed to move more. I vacuumed and cleaned the wood floors on the main floor of my house. I washed a few windows, cleaned the TV off and disinfected a number of things trying to do away with this virus we have all had. Now it is silent. Maya and Grandma are at Target and Owen is asleep. I wonder if this is how quite the evenings will be once the dust has settled and we are 'on our own.' Quiet. I think I need to learn to meditate.

What's wrong?

This feels like a loaded question. My inner response, is 'duh'? But that's a little on the rude side. Of course, everyone around me knows what is wrong. But where do you begin to answer that question?

In his voice.

This morning I made a final phone call in regard to Chris. I had his cell phone turned off. It took 4 weeks and I know I paid for a whole month for a useless phone that even when he was here to use it, he did not. My hang up, I discovered yesterday, was his voice mail message. It was the only place I could hear him say his own name. I recorded it. Today I woke up and made the call.

Shhhhhhhhhhh.

Am I going to be the woman that hushes the room? Will I be the one who walks in to Maya's kindergarten classroom in two years to have other parents give me that 'knowing' look. Will they know what to say to me when they can't rant about normal life and husband issues? Will I know what to say or when to respond? Will they quiet when I mention my dead husband? Can I even call him that since legally our marriage ended on November 17, 2010?

Maybe this will be hard for you to read. Perhaps it will be too difficult for me to write. I guess as with many things in my life, time will tell.