The Honey Moon is over

Even Grief has a honeymoon. And I believe mine is over. Honey is the endearment we called one another and the MOON is something that I just need to see once in a while. It is what grounds me, what makes me feel part of "something". It is my daily dose of vitamins in a sense. Last night, I went and sat on a picnic table contemplating, digesting, ruminating and followed the moon through the trees. The quarter moon, clear, strong and bright. I found myself having to move on the bench to keep the moon in view between the trees. I realized the earth was moving and the moon was not rising. I wanted to moon to rise. I wanted to sit still and keep my eyes fixed on it without moving. That didn't happen.

I haven't written lately. My computer is down and in for repair. I have felt disconnected. I know now how important this writing is for me. Picking up a pen and paper seems too difficult right now. The word difficult seems to be part of my daily mantra right now. I think that is why I feel the honeymoon is over. My work in recreating the new me has begun. I still am not happy about all of this, my life in general and would love to have a temper tantrum about all of it. So, I instead displace my frustrations in other ways. Sometimes it isn't fun being around me.I don't even like me at times!

I have had compounded car problems along with computer malfunctions. Yes, you know, when something breaks down usually two more things break down. Dealing with a flat tire at 6:15am isn't my favorite thing to do. It wouldn't have been Bruce's either. I took our old car in for repairs. I want it in sell-able condition. I plan to put a FOR SALE sign in the window and see if I can do this myself. So, while that car was in the shop, my car has a flat tire. "It's ruined...you will need a new tire!" wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear.

I decided to clean out my office. I am a collector of books. I dislike parting with them, but decided I must. After work one evening, I filled two grocery bags with some of my favorite books. It just doesn't seem that important to be saving them at this point in my life. Some of these books were gifts to Bruce for Christmas from relatives. How sad that he never read them. The intention was so good. Parting is such sweet sorrow, right?

I find that I cry less tears now! Why, I am not sure. I still get choked up and sad, especially when I hear a song that Bruce might have sung, or think of something that elicits a memory, good or bad. Yes, there are bad memories along with the good.

Who promised me a Rose Garden? no one ... I got a Rose Bush from a friend in Atlanta. I am hoping to keep it alive and plant it up by Bruce's grave as soon as his stone gets set. That should be soon. It will be good to see this stone set. Maybe then, I will go spend more time there. I want to put somehthing on the back of our headstone. A saying that makes one ponder about the type of person Bruce was. I have asked Abby to help me. Maybe it should be a saying about both of us. Since one day, I too will rest there.


I am listening to some public radio again in the car. This is a good sign. I can concentrate on what the program is about and find myself even thinking about the topic. My reading has been mostly about Death, Grieving, Getting on, What is Heaven like,Near Death Experiences, etc. Even though I started reading these books soon after Bruce died, I wasn't retaining any of them. Lately, their words have meaning. I have been working on crossword puzzles. I am not very good at them, but seem to be getting better. My mom is a pro, so is my sister! I believe these mind teasers help keep one's mind sharp. I am reading THE KITE RUNNER...and am almost finished. Lance had told me it was good and that I should read it. It is good. I find myself absorbed in this story. Signs of progress don't you think?

I think I can now clean out his bathroom drawers. I am preparing myself for this job. I cleaned out my bathroom drawers and medicine cabinet. I threw away a lot of old things. I threw away his old BRUT cologne. He didn't like wearing cologne. I wanted him to, but he didn't like to. I almost put it back on the shelf, but it is gone now. I am considering repainting this bathroom, HIS bathroom. I am back again thinking about making this change in color, moving on. We got some really cool contemporary art in New Orleans before Hurricane Katrina swept it away. They hang on the wall in this bathroom. They are full of color...jazz players. They remind me of Bruce and I. Colorful, irregular lines, interesting, full of life. I won't part with these.

My brother who is a widower of 10 years, (His 45 year old wife died 10 years ago) told me that after about 4-5 months people will expect you to be moving on. To not talk about your dead spouse all of the time. They will be moving on with their life. And, they will expect the same of you. I see that happening to me. While watching our local RF DAYS Parade last weekend with friends; an acquaintance of Bruce's who was at the funeral was complimenting the young man who played the trombone at Bruce's funeral. He perhaps didn't see me standing there, but he said to Kenyon; "I was at a funeral a few months ago and heard you play! It was the most beautiful Amazing Grace I have ever heard!". Right away, Kenyon's father interrupted this man and pointed to me and said, "yes, that was Deb's husband Bruce's funeral" trying to assuage the moment between uncomfortable and reality.

Bruce always said that I never noticed him, when we might meet one another coming and going on the street. He was right. I am oblivious to what goes on around me at times. I am in my own world half of the time. I am wondering now, how many people saw me downtown at the parade, noticed my singleness and thought or said to their friend ..there is Deb, her husband passed away, how sad!..and I never knew it. I am sure it was happening. I know, I myself...would have said something like that to Bruce about someone we might have known. I do know one person asked me how I was doing? People still care. Their comfort zone is just on an uncomfortable setting I think.

Getting on to another life is hard work. Yes, it is my life, my decisions and I know that maybe tomorrow it might even feel exciting. Today...it seems out of sync. Deb