Expect the unexpectedToday was my official first day back in the classroom. My students were lovely, as they have been throughout the ordeal. My colleagues were kind, and warm.
I am not sad right now so much as empty, stalled, stopped. I have the vague sense that something awful has happened, but I can't remember what. My stomach feels vaguely uneasy; my thinking is unclear. I'm tired of being told that whatever I am feeling is "normal"; the word is even more meaningless than it usually is.
I expected grief to be sharper than this; with a loss so great, I almost welcomed the onslaught of despair. Instead, I feel almost sedated.
There are many indignities associated with the loss of a spouse, partner, lover, friend. The chipper voice saying, "Have a great day!" at the end of yet another official call I have to make about his death.
The fact that the my health care renewal form has only two options: "Single," and "Married." "I'm still married," I want to shout; "I will remain married for a long, long time--if not forever. Just because he has died doesn't make me single." What an ugly word that is, now. It's nearly as bad as "alone"; I am that, too. Profoundly.