#183 Eight months
One of the first articles I read about my new life was in the New York Times. The title is “How To Talk To A Widow”. The author, a widow herself, tells the story of how a friend sends her an e-mail to ask how she is doing. It was about a year after her husband died. She replies with, “I’m better”. The friend then sends another message saying, “Oh, I didn’t know you were sick”. She proceeds to make the observation that apparently “she wasn’t not doing the recovery thing right”. But I know what she is talking about.
It’s eight months today. This is a threshold I have been waiting for. I keep my expectations in check. Based on everything that I read in books, papers and forums after Janne died, I concluded that I would need seven to eight months to come to a stable pace in my life. I’m not using the word “better”, because that’s just wishful thinking. But I do feel that life is more predictable.
The comparison that comes to mind is that Janne’s death was like an explosion where everything gets thrown around. Now, eight months later, the dust has settled and I can see with more clarity. Most people connected to Janne have gone on with their lives which is the fair thing to do. I expected it and was ready for it.
The biggest worry was about Trevor and Daniel. By reading advice from others, I understood that I needed to provide them with consistency in their lives. Kids grieve differently. If they expect something and those expectations don’t come true, it will trigger the same feeling of abandonment as with Janne. I’m overly protective of them. Fortunately I have a group of friends who have formed a special bond with them, a couple of them in Estonia and most abroad. It amuses me that every time that I have a call with one of them, either Trevor or Daniel will hijack my call to talk with those friends. Also, they have their own friends from school who visit often. There is some magic in that.
As for me, I acknowledge that only people who have gone through this will understand. Sometimes I meet by chance someone I haven’t seen in a long time. With good intentions, that person will tell me, “you seem better”. I have to contain myself from saying “I seem better in these five minutes you are seeing me, but you don’t know I was weeping when I drove here”.
Yesterday, I met a friend of mine for a morning coffee (I rarely decline offers like this). When he arrived, I told him that I was just realizing that I hadn’t been in that area of the city by myself. I even have a photo of Janne in the corner just outside. He immediately understood and his understanding gave me some comfort.
It’s eight months and still feels like it was yesterday.
In the middle of everything, last weekend was the first one ever when I cooked everything for us without buying takeaway. The boys had eggs, pancakes, mosh, roasted chicken, roasted veggies, reverse-seared steaks. I didn’t have a chance to try some food myself, because the boys ate it all.
I have started doing small changes in the house. I know Janne wouldn’t have approved of some of them, but whose fault is that (one of our favorite inside jokes). I finally found someone to fix the lights outside the house as every time we turn them on, it kills some circuit in the house. Even more, Janne left two electrical connections in the boys’ rooms so I ordered those LED lights we wanted for them already since four years ago.
I finished the second season of the series The Bear. It took me a long time to be able to watch it without Janne. It was a beautiful season with a sprinkle of grief too. My frozen shoulders are nearly gone. I have made new friends. We keep moving forward.
Last night I had a dream bordering on nightmare. I saw Janne dying again. She was different as well as the place where we were which was full of light. Still, she could not respond to me anymore when I wanted to make her comfortable by putting a pillow under her head.
When I woke up in the morning, I was chatting with a friend that probably Janne wasn’t happy as last night I threw away the remainders of the last virgin mojito mix she bought for herself. We were laughing at this. He asked about the bottle of Frappuccino. I told him that it’s still in the fridge. He told me, “don’t even think of getting rid of that or she will certainly get upset.” I still can laugh in my new life.
I’m a shadow of myself, but now that the dust has settled, I know who I really am and what I can expect of this new life. Eight months is a long time, but I’m glad we’re still here. I will continue figuring out our near future as until now.
Next stop, I need to figure out what we’ll do for Mother’s Day.
