Five-Hundred Day Postmortem

    Nearly five hundred days ago, Wife decided she’d had enough of pain. So, she died. What a blunt way to state her leaving, but, but I am tired of dancing under euphemisms.  She died. As I have previously stated, suddenly, without warning, after dealing with breast cancer for almost a decade - stage four cancer for three years. Still, she died SUDDENLY, without warning - me. 
   Of course, I was in denial – still am. I find myself wandering  through my halls, looking for Wife, and blubbering when I cannot track her down. 

      I have tried to stay busy, cleaning out closets and kitchens, and spare rooms, but never have I stayed busy enough to forget where her tombstone stands, or where her wedding ring sits; or where her favorite coat hangs because I cannot yet allow myself to give it away.

      I could say these last several weeks have been easier, and that the nights are going better, but I would be spreading falsehoods. In some ways, they are, but mostly they are not. Some days, I muddle through without once thinking of her, untiI I hear a song on the radio (( the Chi-lites “Have you Seen Her”   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVYxKRXDT2I) or  (Without You) What Do I Do with Me”  Tanya Tucker      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOq6G41IewI )),

or have to face the BED alone. Many nights (mornings), I find myself staying awake as long as I physically can,  just to avoid the dark room, and her cold pillow.

     My children, grandchildren, and close friends come around often enough for me to remain coherent, and  loosely connected, and I am slowly rejoining the social circles Wife and I once haunted (and she still does). However, I cannot go anywhere without some hazard waddling along in my wake.  Since now I am a single, rather than a part of a couple, I appear to be a threat to some. I have lost the safety of claiming my wife as my companion. How do I deal with that? I am still struggling.

   What I MOST miss was her ability to make sense of what I had to say, and to help me funnel my many-tracked thoughts into some form of coherence. And then there was our time at the end of the day, when just she and I were alone in the dark, holding each other, and whispering, and laughing. And drifting off to sleep, content that we would have the privilege of doing that once more the next evening.  Then, one day, we didn’t. And, that is where I am currently stuck. For now. Maybe, there is hope.  I have been informed, by those whose footsteps I follow, that there is.