My life changed forever on September 22, 2010 at 5:08 a.m. as my dear husband slipped from this life and went to Heaven. While I couldn't possibly have wanted him to continue to suffer any longer, letting him go was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.
So here I am one year later. One year. How can that be?
I'm not where I think I should be at this point. Emotionally ... well, maybe. I have my good and bad days, I don't feel depressed ... just sad. I miss him. He was my one true love and my very best friend for 41 years. I miss being able to talk to him about the little things every day. Tears have been heavy during these past several days, but I guess that was to be expected. There have been other issues, too, that have burdened my heart this past week. Just a big ol' dark cloud hanging over my head.
While I am proud of how I cared for Vern during his cancer battle, I am not proud of how I've let everything else in my personal life go since he left. The house is a wreck, I'm not taking care of things like I should, Vern's things are still in the closet, medical stuff is still stacked in a corner of my bedroom, I'm still leaving mail unopened in stacks on the table, the yard would be a jungle if not for my oh-so-special neighbor Nancy, the wheelchair van still sits undriveable in the driveway. And yet at work I'm organized, efficient, smiling, handling a really huge load right now that keeps me jumping the entire time I'm there. Who the heck am I? How do I make these two very separate people merge into one?
I'm not sure what the answer is to that, but I am going to finally get started trying to figure it out. For Vern AND for me. Just like I faced each day of Vern's cancer journey with the 'one day at a time' mantra ... I will face this personal mountain one 'bite' at a time. I will follow my special widow friend Crystal's lead and start my "in search of Dianne West" journey with a list of realistic short term goals to accomplish in the next 30 days.
Today is for grieving ... tomorrow begins Day 1 of discovering who I am.