Sunday, February 22, 2009

Mood Wrings ...

Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.

(Ah, "Airplane," always good for a laugh.)

My emotions aren't on a rollercoaster these days. Oh no. They're on Space Mountain: in the dark with no sense of when the next dip or curve is coming.

Yesterday, I spent the morning watching the end of Season 2 of "Nip/Tuck." I did not see the ending of the final episode coming, and I almost always see endings coming, so there I was, sitting on my couch, yelling at my TV, "Yeah! That was awesome!"

And less than a minute later, I was sobbing. Not just sobbing, but nearly wailing. If there is such a thing as crying violently, that was me.

My e-pal Rick had sent an e-mail which on its own was perfectly lovely and well-timed. A response to posts from earlier in the week, his note was reaching out over the miles to remind me that Dave isn't really gone and to offer a hug thusly: "Hug a friend, and ask the friend to hug you one more time and know the second hug was from me."

So many people have been so good to me these past weeks, and I am almost unspeakably grateful to all of them. But Rick's kindness broke through an emotional dam I hadn't been aware I'd been building all month, and my emotions took quick notice of the fissure and gushed forth.

And while I'm blindsided by such episodes, I welcome them because I know that I can't keep everything bottled up. Its release is crucial.

Still, I've grown weary of it all. And while I appreciate those who tell me that all I have to do is be myself (thanks, David) and maybe wash my hair occasionally (thanks for the chuckle, Marta), I don't want my family and friends to think I'm milking the situation. I'd like nothing more than to return to whatever counts as normal.

But through these days and weeks, I've come to realize that I'm not simply mourning the loss of Dave. His death is the precipitating event, but I find myself processing all over again the loss of my friend Charles as well as coming to terms with another friendship which, in the harsh light of grief, has been revealed as gravely lacking in the substance I was so sure it possessed.

And it all adds up.

So I welcome the good days and, in a strange way, I welcome the bad days. Today is a good day. The sun is shining. I roused myself off the couch after spending part of the morning with George Stephanopoulous and have accomplished actual tasks around the house. I limited myself to two cups of my extreme coffee. I may even watch the Oscars tonight, though it will be strange to watch them without Dave on the phone.

And I smile at my sunny yellow Gerbera daisies (a very sweet gesture from David, who is very sweet) which remain very happy and flowery many days after he brought them to me. Do not adjust your monitors: yes, my bookcase is dusty.

10 Comments:

Blogger Martwork said...

Hang in there Beth! Getting off the couch is a great start!

10:19 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Why on earth would family and friends think you're "milking the situation"???

2:36 PM  
Blogger Mercurie said...

I hope happiness comes your way again soon, Beth. I definitely think getting up and around is a good idea.

6:43 PM  
Anonymous Mikeachim said...

Time heals.

It doesn't hurry, though. Some days, it even backtracks.
But even day, on average, is better than the last.

You're much stronger than you'll let yourself admit, I know from our conversations. So I know, *know*, that you're okay. You're hurting like hell, but you're healing.

And that's because you're strong.

7:11 PM  
Anonymous Mikeachim said...

That's "every" day, not "even" day.

Dids I menshun i is a writer? Words iz mine POWER n thatiz a PHACT. Bleaf it.

7:13 PM  
Blogger Beth said...

Thanks, friends.

Today was a good day. I got a lot of work done on the book I'm compiling for his family. And once his memorial service is past, things will get easier. Right now, I think all of his friends and family are kinda stuck in Neutral.

7:14 PM  
Blogger Beth said...

I love that you commented again to correct yourself, Mike. We're peas for sure: We can't let typos stand, even if we figure people will understand what we mean.

7:19 PM  
Blogger Bill said...

Checking in from Miami! :)

I know all about roller coasters!

2:34 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, Beth.

I understand. Losing Dave has brought back to me when I lost Mickey--my other transplant surviving friend lost too soon--and my grandmother. I believe loss brings any previous loss rushing back to magnify it all.

But never for a moment believe that your friendship with Dave lacked substance. He did not think that.

8:57 PM  
Blogger Beth said...

I didn't mean that my friendship with Dave lacked substance. I was referring to another friendship which I now see in another light.

8:59 PM  

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