The following letter may concern a few of you. Heck, I think it is of concern to me. I’ve decided to post, what I originally considered a blow-off letter, meaning it was a draft, never intended to see the light of day. It was merely intended to help me organize and recognize my thoughts. However, I know there are some reading these posts who are grieving themselves. If I’m experiencing this, then you may be also.
This letter is not likely to give you any answers, but it may let you know the weird things going on in your head are not isolated to your own brain.
Darling Pam,
It was my intention to own my writing without addressing them as letters to you after the first 30 days, but I don’t know what is happening.
You’ve always heard me say that I make a decent living by talking. Fact is, that’s not true. Actually, I make 75% of my living by thinking and then 25% by communicating those musings.
It’s not a bad gig.
Because of the ratios in that recipe, I’ve believed that I am doing OK. I’ve thought through the process and have been processing through my grief. Actually, I thought the whole process, though painful, was on track. Of course I miss you and waves of grief, as I’ve already described, wash over my rail. I’ve checked in with my trusted advisors, asked those closest to let me know if they, as the national security ads say, “See something? Say something.”
This past week seems disheveled. I get through most tasks, but it almost feels like I’m going crazy. Random thoughts, beyond the normal- pining to see you again, pop into my head. I need to check in, it’s time to check on you, what do you want for dinner. More waves of grief than normal.
I’ve recently made major decisions, not without counsel, and I think they are sound; sell the house, buy a new house, move back to the condo. These are not little adjustments and yet I am peaceful with them.
It is almost as there are two of me within the same brain. One fully cognizant that you are gone, missing you, but aware of your felicitous state. The other seems incapable of connecting those dots. Are these my brain neurons? Were you right, do I need counseling?
I think that this week, amid considerable activity, I’ve shed more tears than I have since the first week of your painful absence.
Tomorrow I go out of town and I feel woefully unprepared. Look! I feel unprepared, I’m a guy who reasons whether or not I’m prepared. What the heck is going on, love?
Brad