When we were suffering from Charles’ addiction, the world kept turning.
When he died by suicide, the world kept turning then, too.
I was moving at the speed of slug after his death and everything seemed to whiz by so quickly. Was I in slow motion? Or was everyone else moving in fast motion? I was in a world that was entirely different from the one everyone else was moving in.
Would I ever catch up? Would anyone ever want to be around me? Or would I be a cruel reminder of a life gone bad? Would anyone ever invite me to lunch again? Ask us to a party?
What a weird thing to ponder. Not that any of that dawned on me in the beginning.
When people did reach out, I couldn’t figure out a calendar. I’d put things on the wrong date. Get lost all the time. Forget possessions.
The pain from insurmountable grief made me feel isolated and alone and it would be a long time before I felt like I was part of the human race again. I still feel like I live on the fringe of the real world. There are still times I check out or move in slow motion. Life events and holidays can still be hard. Arbor day? I’m good with that one. Cinco de Mayo? I’m OK with that one, too. But Thanksgiving to Christmas? I still can’t quite function right.
My world did stop. I wondered when I could participate in life again. For a while, I just faked participation and went through the motions. Until I could participate sometimes. And finally, most of the time.
I can’t remember a lot of the first two years unless I read my own blog. Writing my book has helped me fill in the missing parts. Still others, I’m not sure I wanted to remember.
Many of you who didn’t suffer this loss, held up the world when I could not. You had it ready for me when I came back to life.