digging deep

I'm basically here to complain, so hitch up your shorts, there might be some swearing.
So far 2020 has been a pain in my ass.  The holidays were rough (the permanence of Andy's absence feeling more real than ever) and we limped through fairly ungracefully.  I cried a lot.  Then just as I thought we were well on the other side and could leave that emotion-filled Yuletide in the dust, the three of us got the flu.  Yes, 7 days of fever and body aches, no school, no work, no leaving the house.  No grace, no patience, no ease.  My mom was a saint and dropped off food (that no one ate) and checked in regularly but everyone else kept us at arm's length.  Totally. get. it (now).

There I was, steeped in self pity.  It was not pretty in our house.  There was a constant rotation of needs and complaints and my fever was raging and the horses still needed hay and I had a couple of work deadlines and I was so tired and I just wanted Andy.  I shifted between aching lonliness and blazing anger.  How the fuck could he have left me to deal with this? This resentment took my by surprise. It was a new emotion in the wide gamut of grief feelings.  I mean the books say anger will come, but that always felt strange to me.  Why would I feel anger when he tried so hard to stay, when he never wanted to leave?  But there it was, practically coming out my ears and definitely streaming down my face.

The week crawled by. I tried, and mostly failed, to speak to their needs with grace and compassion. To make another cup of tea and get another box of tissue without sobbing through the tiny task.  I felt small and weak and edgy.  I dreamed of getting on a plane to anywhere but here.

And then another week rolled around and it looked like we could drag ourselves back to life.  We plodded through the first few days of school and work, the weight of sickness still heavy.  Then finally, the sun shone (wait, maybe not) and by the end of the week I could see the light, and feel my old optimistically-determined self returning. 

And then Elsa took a jump on her sled on the playground and whacked her head and ended up with a concussion that needed 5 days of at-home rest and half days back at school for the week after that.  This calls for another parent and I just don't have one.  That part was loud and clear.  In so many ways.

But I do have a sweet Nonnie near by (thank god) and friends and co-workers who are so supportive and a new sweetheart who is happy to transport kids to and from whenever he can.  Usually I can count my blessing even through the gloom.

So here's to February, the slow turn back to light, the occasional cardinal call that sounds like spring, the crisp cold mornings and the fire still glowing each night.  Here's to taking it one day at a time, holding the strong memories of Andy's love and support and letting them grow us onward.