I don’t know how to accurately count the days, only the weeks. So while Tuesday, yesterday, made the 52nd week, I think this exact day makes the completion of one year. It was a nice cool day for the first time in a long time.
In one year:
I could not go to work for two months following His death. I took a leave of absence from that job for the rest of the year. Love and I worked down the street from one another. He came by every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon. Sometimes, We left work early, skipped work one time, or met up on employee-only days.
I got one kid off to the university from one year spent at community college getting an AA. Kid is a junior with autism and doing well.
I got another job in another county (which was against my contract but I didn’t give a fuck) so that I wouldn’t have to face the past and all of Our previous routines. I worked at that job, mostly in a foggy haze, until it caught up to me that I could not manage all of the tasks required in that [very big and demanding] job. I had a great time there otherwise, with the sisterhood of Black women with whom I worked. They were very encouraging. I owe them for helping me make it through during that time. I stopped working there after almost four months.
Then I decided that I had the strength to finish my grad course that I had started the previous September (then stopped immediately after Love died). This was in April. I finished on my own and got an A. I started the next course, got an A. And then the next one. But I’m not doing so well since hurricane Irma and then the paralyzing anxiety that washed over me as I knew the one year anniversary was approaching.
My other kid graduated from high school additionally with a community college degree. This kid is now also a junior at the university.
I’m an empty nester and I would be loving it if my father weren’t still in my house. It was supposed to be temporary. Now my mother is here, too. I wanted everyone gone so that I could grieve out in the open in my own house. I also want to be naked. Bo and I loved nudity, which is why He asked me a couple of times to retire with Him at this nude place north of here.
My neck click problem that plagued me since May of 2016 — the doctor couldn’t hear it so they couldn’t really diagnose it — disappeared.
I got a job over the summer in the field that I am currently studying. I met some great bosses who also shared in the loss of their mother due to a car accident. I took a leave of absence from that because my “real” job was beginning again…
…But I just couldn’t go back. I could have taken another leave, but in a haste, I resigned. They had fucked me for so long that it was the easiest and healthiest thing I could think of. I was depressed for years because of things that had happened to me at this job. Also, union representation sucks (at least in the South).
And then almost immediately, I interviewed for a job in yet another county. This job is in my field of current study. I got the job, though it took 6 weeks to start — partially because of Irma, partially because they seem to be slow in HR. I LOVE MY JOB! I love my co-workers. I get to travel and be alone with myself a lot which is perfect for this introvert! I get to collaborate and research and utilize my studies, and study some more. I get to solve problems!
My hair was graying, but turned massively gray after Bo died. I feel like a witch, but I had and have been committed to not dying it because it was a part of my self acceptance. My father gave me the early gray syndrome. Silver, actually. People think I colored it like this. It confuses them because I’m not “old.”
I have gained back the majority of that lovely weight I had lost. I quit the gym because of it’s association with my memories of Love. I went skating once in January with my old co-workers and students. I hadn’t been on wheels since June 2016’s Prince tribute skate. I had just started to ride my bike over the summer when I rolled my ankle badly. I’m ready to get started again with exercise, but sleep, fatigue, and aches, and other excuses currently plague me.
And apparently, I’m still beautiful, as evidenced by the handsome man who told me so while interrupting a training we were attending.
And I love Bo.
Lately, I hadn’t been seeing as many Chevy Cruzes as I use to see. I also decided that I didn’t believe in most, or all, of that afterlife stuff that I was introduced to at week 6. Maybe Ester Hicks is mentally ill.
But then today, let me tell you….
I was speeding, trying to get to work early so that I could get home early to reflect on my time with Bo, and to commemorate the anniversary. I needed to make a left turn. But there was this car that was stopped to my right, not even in the lane correctly, with it’s left turn signal on. I was confused, and pissed. I didn’t know if I should just take the turn first, or wait for them. I looked closely…and it was a white Chevy….I drove fast to catch up to it once it turned. Yes, it was a Cruze.
I couldn’t even be mad. In fact, I laughed, and this time I talked out loud (I didn’t typically speak aloud to Love because I figured with the magical afterlife powers, it wasn’t necessary. Shouldn’t He be able to hear me in my head?),
Really funny, Bo! You even have jokes from beyond. I love YOU. I LOVE you — just like you used to say it. I LOVE you. I LOVE you. I LOVE you. Thank you.
It was 0730.
But then later in the afternoon, while I was distracted driving on my way home (on the phone with my birthday kid), a white Chevy Cruze appeared in front of me, yet again. (Back story, Bo drove a Blue Cruze and occasionally, his wife’s White one. He died in the White one.)
Today was okay. That means, it was a good day.
I took some meds for my impending headache. Took an anxiolytic for insurance against today. Then, went to sleep before 6 and skipped class tonight. Talked to my birthday kid some more before midnight (that’s why I faked this post originally). And this day, this year…is over.
No more counting.