The one year anniversary of Joel’s death is closing in upon me, and I am frankly starting to panic. It feels like it’s happening too fast, like an avalanche. I feel like a cartoon mouse trying to dig in its heels and stop a speeding train. It’s irrational and foolish; it’s a feeling, but I’m not ready for it to already be more than a year since he died. For his physical presence to recede further and further away. For it to become harder to conjure up the memory of his laugh, the sensation of his gigantic hugs, the scent of the weird stir-fries he used to concoct.
I miss him so much, in ways I can’t even begin to articulate. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to write this post or precursors to it for almost a year. This blog has lain fallow because it’s been beyond me ability to just log on and glibly write, “my husband died” and carry on from there. But the thing of it is, if I’m to ever write here again, I must. And so I have. I feel like I should carry on with this blog; the writing could be therapeutic, and I am sure a section of my Facebook friends would be relieved if I took some of my parental musings elsewhere once in a while. I’ve had Thoughts which would better suit a longer written form, as well. Thoughts about grief, solo parenting, being a Universal Cosmic Buttmonkey, and the usual round of sewing, cars, fashion, cookery, books, and occasional anything-else-ness.
People ask me what they can do to help sometimes, and I will say the main thing you can do is just keep me company. Drop me an e-mail. Reply to a post. If you’re local, feel free to come by the house. I’ve usually got cookies and always have coffee or tea near at hand. Banter with me on Facebook or Tumblr. I spend a solid most of my time holed up in a small house in Kansas City, KS with a toddler and an infant. Interaction with friendly adults is a rare and deeply appreciated treat.
When Joel was alive, we talked over pretty near everything. We had our routines and rituals and always planned out our days over breakfast and reviewed them before bedtime. We discussed everything from the dumbass thing one of our friends did to our deeper philosophies on How Everything Works (or doesn’t). I miss sitting across the table from him and just chatting about whatever came to mind. I miss his raucous, whooping laugh, the way he’d imitate me to take the mickey out of me when he thought I was getting to serious. I even miss how he’d bother me while I was cooking in order to get my goat.
What I’m saying is that my life it too quiet without that big galoot in it, so if you can throw me some noise, it would be a real lifeline.