Shoes

Who knows what to do, or expect, when the anniversary of the death of a life partner comes around. All year I tried to keep track of the time gone, the time ahead, mostly unsuccessfully, there being a sense of detachment from those things familiar, home, work, friends, those very things that give us a sense of grounding. Unconnected, feeling parts missing, feeling parts there that are not. Still trying to be part of the old order while being separated from yourself.

This arbitrary element of time defined by the absence of time. Richard is here, Richard is not here.

Family, how does this define family. How do I fit in this new structure, unique from home, work and friends. Placement of each member has been shifted irrevocably. The glue, unstuck from a support. Bolts loosened. How do our children and their families place themselves in relationship to life when one has been taken.

When my father died, I lost not only my dad but my siblings. His death was not so untimely at 84 as Rich's was at 58, but the unloosening was severe. I hit bottom, gained 25 lbs, was having anxiety attacks and when I did go out I thought I was going to die. The break.

When Rich died, I felt that I was going to die too. Not in a melodramatic sense but more of a natural process of moving towards and away from the familiar, catching glimpses of peace knowing I did not have to be here either, but wanting to live. I still feel that today.

How do I honor my girls. How do I honor my grandsons. My granddaughter. Rich. Myself. It is not thru moving on. It is not by saving mementoes. Or carrying outward signs of a life past. Ashes. It is a difficult discussion. We each carry dad differently. Timing. Emotion. Ritual.

I am the one to carry the memories of before children. Of a young love, of silliness and travel, of great passion and deep hurt, big successes and heartbreaking loss, coming together and falling apart.

I have the remnants to manage. House, business, drawings, framed fine art photography, boxes of slides, musical instruments, sound systems, recordings. And memories of every piece I come across. A part of Rich and myself encased in the material world. I want to cut and run. Pack a bag. Go. Leave the sorting to someone that doesn't care.

Don't make any big changes the first year. Time, arbitrary time. If it is so, than today is as good as tomorrow. But I have family, they are my process. I will likely continue to do stuff that chaps peoples hide. What can I say. You come into my shoes. Tell me.