I was a bit taken aback when she insisted I must be depressed too, thanks to my eyes leaking. Gotta love that!
Usually I try to be upbeat and bright, but this particular day was incredibly hard. I'd sat in a room of very sad and depressed people, I'd heard a song about death and meeting on the other side, which they are heralding as the (maybe) next olympic games song for the Aussies. Really? Surely not! Its a lovely song, but hardly upbeat and energetic. If I was in the olympic team, I'd lose all will to live, let alone compete!. ...back to my day...after waiting an hour in the waiting room I said I had to leave and go to another appointment, the woman looked up at me and said 'Well, we can't see you straight away, you know. You're an hour late!' She had forgotten to put a tick by my name... Argh!
Anyway, the rest of the day went along those lines and by the time I got home, I was feeling raw and exposed. It's at times like this I really miss being able to talk to Butch about my day. I miss him all day every day, but those moments when you want to laugh about an outrageous incident or cry about a tragedy are the hardest. Nothing beats that closeness a couple shares; where you know each other so well. You don't have to tell the whole story, because each knows how the other reacts in any given circumstance. It's knowing that no one will ever know me in quite the same way, or understand how complex I can be that often leaves me feeling defeated and lost.
A couple of days passed and I had reconciled myself to what had happened. In fact I'd even managed to find the positive gem within that rocky day. I realised that back when everyone told me I would never be able to lead an active life, I bucked the diagnosis and had gone from almost being in a wheelchair to dancing, qualifying as a masseuse and playing in the park with my grandchildren.
It seems that every time in my life someone told me I couldn't do something or something was impossible or beyond my reach, I just went all out and proved them wrong. Butch used to call me a Woman with Attitude, because of this particular trait, this distinctive pattern I followed all my life. In fact, he knew if I wanted to do something out of my comfort zone, he would start by encouraging me and if I hung back or sat on the fence, he would tell me it was probably too dangerous, scary or hard. It worked every time!
Today I was thinking about the coming fourth anniversary of his passing. I still feel the pain and loss keenly. I miss him so much, I still write to him every day, whisper goodnight before I close my eyes and long for his arms around me or the sound of his infectious laugh.
I've come to the conclusion I went about this whole 'grief expedition' all wrong. What I should have done was find someone who would say to me 'Oh, you'll never get over Butch's passing! It will be too hard, too scary and you just won't be able to handle it!' Then, by now I might be living, thinking and acting different than I do.
Instead I've had people saying 'You'll get over it! Everyone else does it, so it can't be that hard! It's not scary being on your own, at least you had all those years with him!'
Yeah, I know, I'm just blowing smoke up yer bum,, but it sounded really good in theory, huh?