Sunday, October 19, 2014

Extension Cords and Aftershocks.

Last weekend I took the time to go through a few boxes I had been putting off emptying and found new places to store the things they held. I busily placed the extra components for electronics, cable wires, twist ties and tools in the new-to-me shelves but paused when I came across several sets of extension cords, coiled and then wrapped and tied with the plug end. 

I gripped one of the bound cords in my hands and held it to my chest. His hands touched these last. His hands wrapped these and tied them and set them aside after a Christmas maybe four or five years ago, the last year he was able to actively make Christmas happen for me and the kids before I stepped in to do my best.

It's been a while since something shook me like that. It felt like what I imagine an aftershock from an earthquake would feel. The room around me slightly swayed and left me feeling a little off-center, dizzy and confused. It's funny that something as simple as an extension cord could put me off balance.

The next day I had a dream. He was back. He had fallen again and had to stay in the hospital for a few weeks to recover. We had moved into our new house and I was busy getting things ready for him to come home. But reality broke in when Kellan walked in my room to wake me up and ask me a question. In my stupor, I yelled at my poor baby "I'm not done sleeping!! Ask me later!!" I almost had him back for a minute there. Almost. And I just wasn't ready to wake up to the reality that he wasn't back and he wasn't coming home.

This week I've found myself trying to figure out what's wrong with me when I'm busy doing dishes or folding laundry and feel like there's something deeply wrong or missing. As soon as I sit still I suddenly feel like bawling for no reason. Or I'll catch myself spinning into an anxiety attack when I thought I had nearly overcome them. My chest hurts, again. I can't breathe, again. And I feel crushed, again.

I used to live in moments like these every second. I was overwhelmed in every moment and could literally focus on nothing else. Now, when these emotional intrusions break into my life, they catch me surprisingly off guard because they're truthfully and thankfully no longer the norm. I've come so far. So very far from the broken woman I was even just less than a year ago.  

In just over a month it will have been two years since we lost Donnie. I miss his voice and hearing him pray and sing and laugh. I miss his mad chef cooking skills and confiding in him about everything and talking with him about nothing. He was my best friend ever. Ever. Ever. 

And even though I may be over the bulk mass onslaught of my slaying grief, I know these aftershocks will come. They may last for a few seconds, or an afternoon or a week or two in waves like they seem to be resurfacing now, but in a way I am thankful for them. In the middle of the busy-ness of my life they remind me to stop and pause to remember, not the end of his life and how it devastated me but who he was and the magnificent memories I have of living life with him.

I loved that man from the depths of my soul. I loved him with all that I was and that kind of love doesn't just disappear. It may sleep until it's revived by something as silly and common as an extension cord or a dream, but it's still there. I don't want to forget him. I don't want to bury his memory and walk away. I want to grab those memories and hold them tight to my chest and remember vividly who he was. He was an amazing man. Talented, brilliant, funny, aggravating and amazing. And he was mine. 

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