February 2, 2013

Sitting here at home on a Saturday night. It's not unlike any other Saturday night except I'm alone. I don't say that to garner pity, just a fact. Joe and I rarely went out or did anything special on Saturday nights, but it was more likely the night when we would relax at home, watch a movie, or have a few friends over. It was never a late night since Joe got up very early for the two Sunday services and had to get to church early to go through his music.

Ever since February 2011, when the tumor could not be removed, I knew the day would come when he would be gone. I knew I would be sad, devastated. I just didn't imagine that the pain would be this intense.

My family visited today. It was a very good visit and a good distraction. Lunch and an afternoon of talking, laughs and a movie. Couldn't ask for more than that. But then came the goodbyes. That's the hard part. Just like last weekend when Joe's family visited. I did well until the goodbyes. I do well at work during the week until the end of the day. The ride home is when I cry. That's when I think about the fact that Joe will not be home when I get there. He was always home when I got there. That coupled with the darkness of night is what makes for long evenings. I talk on the phone to friends and family, but then I hang up and I'm alone. Joe isn't here. Instead my only company is the pain. I have very good friends who have gone through this. They have survived this. They experienced the same things I am experiencing and have moved forward. I ache for the day when I feel I have made forward progress. Right now it feels that daily I take one step forward during the day and two steps backwards during the night.

I sit here now thinking about church tomorrow. A morning that will be filled with forward motion. An afternoon and evening hopefully filled with family and friends. I make myself think positive. Push back the negative. But it is so hard. The solicitation calls asking for Joe from non English speaking sales people and me telling them he is deceased and them continuing to say "Mr. Lupton, Mr. Lupton" until I scream at them that he is dead and they hang up. The junk mail with his name on it. The insurance papers with my name on it stuffed with paperwork after paperwork all with form cover letters expressing sorrow for my loss. My loss. It should also express sorrow for me being lost. That is what I am. Lost with little to no direction. Stumbling along with a plastic smile on my face. I've done nothing, literally nothing for three weeks and yet I have never been so tired. When people speak of being heart broken after the death of a spouse, they don't mention that everything else feels broken as well.

Well I'm a "Debbie Downer" tonight am I not? This isn't how I imagined the day but I don't know why I didn't. It's no different than any other day since Joe died.

So many people have reached out to me with prayers, cards, phone calls, texts and visits. My friends have been so good to me. Both of my families have been so good to me. Joe's mom and I have become very good at helping each other on the particularly bad days. She was having a busy day today and I hope it helped her to keep her mind on other things. But like me, she comes home to an empty house and is alone with her thoughts. We talk nearly every day and although our talks get emotional sometimes, I think it helps us both. We share a grief. We share memories. We share a pain.

It's 8:35pm and time for me to think about bed. I have to try early if I have any chance of getting more than a few hours of sleep. I was up at 3:50am today, but I went to bed at 7:30 so that helped. (Although it was a cold medication induced sleep, not a natural one - but at least it was sleep). I hope everyone has a wonderful Super Bowl Sunday. I have high hopes that it is a good one for me. Bright skies, less cold symptoms and looking forward. That's what I hope the daylight brings.