Milestones

 

They are inevitable.  They come whether you are ready or not.  The firsts.  The markers.  The milestones.  Some show up without warning.  Others are planned.  None of them is easy.  I have had a month full of firsts, markers, and milestones, none of which I thought I would have to deal with for 30 more years.  But here I am.  

I spread some ashes last weekend.  The ashes of my One.  It felt impossible.  The act of spreading the ashes felt impossible, and the fact of what I was doing felt impossible.  I kept waiting for the punchline, but there was none.

I washed the sheets on Sunday, for the first time since THAT DAY.  Scott had been in my head for over a week.  Wash the sheets.  Love, wash the sheets.  They are gross.  Wash them.  WASH THE SHEETS!  I finally listened.  It was time.  It was almost as hard as spreading the ashes.  I cried.  I could feel Scott shaking his head.  I'm not there anymore.  I'm not in the sheets.  I'm everywhere around you.  I'm in the trees and the mountains and the clouds.  I'm everywhere.  But I'm not in the sheets.  As I stripped the sheets off the bed and carried them to the washer, I could hear Scott in my head again.  I'm proud of you, Love.

Sunday night, for the first time since THAT DAY, I felt like reading.  I thought maybe my brain was finally ready to concentrate.  I settled on the swing on the back deck, downloaded a book on my iPad, and read two paragraphs.  I haven't read anything since then, but I will take any tiny victory that I can find.

Monday night, for the first time since THAT DAY, I turned on the television.  Instant knives to the heart when I saw all the shows that Scott and I used to watch together, and all the shows we had planned to watch during the winter darkness.  I persevered and found something that neither of us had wanted to watch.  I haven't turned on the television since then, but again, tiny wins matter.

Tuesday, Brett came and mowed part of the lawn by the pond.  He texted me later that day: The mower needs oil.  I didn't think anything of it until later that evening when I was talking to Shannon on the phone.  I realized I didn't know anything about adding oil to a lawnmower.  

"Shannon, Brett said the lawnmower needs oil."

"Yeah, it probably does."

Long pause.  Then me, "Tell me more about that."

Shannon patiently walked me through all of it, from checking the oil to adding the oil to what kind of oil to buy to where to buy oil.  He then instructed me on the difference between two-stroke engines and four-stroke engines.  

I listened, grateful for the explanation, then replied, "This is the dumbest thing ever.  This seems like a major oversight by the engineers.  If these engines had been designed by women, they would all work the same, and they wouldn't yank your shoulder out of the socket when you try and start them."

Shannon laughed, then said, "You're not wrong."

Thursday night, I met a friend at a restaurant.  That was the first time I had eaten in a restaurant since before THAT DAY.  My friend lost his wife a year and a half ago, also suddenly.  He spoke openly about it to me for the first time, and his perspective and experiences in the past year and a half helped me more than I could have ever imagined.  We both cried, we laughed a little, and in the end, we were both exhausted from the conversation and grateful that we were able to talk about it.  

Last night, a welcome party guest finally arrived.  I had been hoping to see this party guest for the past month, but she made herself scarce.  In fact, I am pretty sure she was hiding somewhere far far away from me.  I don't know if it was a big week of milestones, or the heavy dinner conversation with my friend, or the fact that I had not slept in a month.  Maybe it was a combination of everything.  I don't know, and I don't care.  What I do know is I have never been so happy to see this party guest in my entire life as I was last night.  Her name is Sleep.  She finally arrived.  She entered the party quietly, and her tranquility calmed the other guests.  She walked me to bed, tucked me in, and told me a bedtime story in a soft, loving, calming voice.  I drifted off to sleep and didn't move until my alarm went off eight restful hours later.  

The wonderful thing about Sleep is that she helps relax the other party guests.  They are all still here, but they are much more mellow.  Sleep also brought with her a few guests I've been hoping to see again.  Clarity arrived early this morning, shortly after I got out of bed.  My mind felt somewhat clear for the first time in a month.  Clarity has stayed by my side all day, even as Infinite Sadness and Disbelief hovered around me.  Clarity also invited her friend Gratitude to come back and hang out for a while.  Gratitude stayed at the party today for a long time.  Two new guests arrived later this afternoon.  They are both small, but I see their potential to grow bigger and bigger as time passes.  They go by the names of Strength and Hope.  They are close with Gratitude and Clarity, but haven't been to the party yet.  They thought it was too crowded.  

The arrival of Sleep, followed closely by the arrivals of Clarity, Gratitude, Strength, and Hope, allowed me to feel a bit more of what this new version of me is going to feel like.  I don't feel like myself, because I think myself is gone.  But my-new-self is in there somewhere, and today I got a tiny glimpse of it.  I am not okay.  I am pretty far from okay, but I am seeing that it might be possible somewhere far down the road someday, somehow, I will be okay.  As far as milestones go, that's a pretty big one.