Journal: 05/07/06

Today (Sunday) turned out to be my day off, the resident managers wanted to visit relatives on my normal day off, and that was fine with me. It worked out well for shopping also. I planned to have Rose take me to Costco® for my monthly shopping trip today anyway. Because I didn’t have to work Sunday, I didn’t have to make a quick trip in the morning, and then get ready for nine hours behind the front desk. I made the quick trip at 10:00 AM with Rose, and spent the rest of the day drinking beer and watching television, my usual day-off activities. Bill made pan-fried pork chops for dinner and we played cards. I was in bed by midnight. The perfect end to a great day.

Joann’s Passing: One Month Later (Part 2)

I didn’t know there was going to be a Part 2 yesterday, but the more I thought about it, there were more things I needed to bring up. Settling in as a single person—albeit a widower—changes the way you think about things around you. Every action is different. Having spent three years always adding another person into daily life considerations, it’s the little things that catch you up.

When I go shopping these days, I am surprised at the way Bill and I have adapted to one less person to shop for. There are no Milky Way® bars to budget for, no fat-free milk to worry about, and the tin of coffee lasts a lot longer. Only two people are eating in this family now, so we package the bulk foods for two, instead of three. Bill and I buy the same amount, it lasts longer though and the cost is less. It’s an adjustment because when I realize the difference, I know Joann is gone.

Joann’s urn coming home didn’t trigger any major emotional reaction. In fact, it validated my efforts to do the right thing by her. I no longer wonder if I couldn’t have done something more for her as I did in the first days after her death. I simply accepted her urn as validation that I did the right things for her. The VNA nurses knew that she was comfortable and out of pain at the end, and I believe so too. I gave her the goal she wanted, to die at home, in the special place where she felt loved and cared for.

There are some people who are so completely destroyed by a death that they become immobile. That doesn’t seem to have happened to me. After all, I have promises to keep. Maybe it’s those things she asked for at the end of her life that has kept me going, focused on my responsibilities. I have not become stuck in the event, I am moving forward, albeit slowly.

I’m still smoking, with no end in sight. Cigarettes Are Cheaper®, rather than the nicotine lozenges, currently fit my budget better. I still look forward to being cigarette—if not nicotine—free, but it’s going to take awhile due to the cash flow. Meanwhile, I try to minimize the impact of smoking by using "light" cigarettes and the standard "kings," that are shorter than the 100’s I used to smoke. When the money improves, I’ll be able to go back on the nicotine lozenges.

I’m still doing only one accomplishment a day. Usually, that’s getting to work on time, and I try to do one work-related accomplishment on top of my normal duties. As time passes, I will be able to do more, but I realize that I’m still "coasting." Day-to-day, life is a routine, but at least it’s a routine I can handle with the minimum of grieving, and the maximum involvement in the real world that (at the moment) I can handle.

I have retained my ability to function as a person. Certainly, I have flashbacks to when I took care of Joann, and I miss her tremendously. There is a huge empty place in myself that I don’t know how to fill, and for the moment, I’m not sure that I want to. Joann, in her last weeks, told me that one of the reasons she didn’t want too much medication was that if she didn’t feel her pain, she didn’t know she was alive. Somehow, I don’t want to stop feeling the pain either, because then I will not be sure if I am alive.