I’ve been into reading memoirs for almost a year now. Blogs are a whole new venue. Most are really craptastic (which is what someone will say about mine in the near future I’m sure) but there are several that are addicting.
In reading my own posts (and doing a little bit of editing) I realized that I don’t think I have gone very far in the almost 6 months since Stephen’s death. I really am stuck in denial. I still have the fleeting thought that this is all a nightmare. A mistake. That this didn’t really happen.
I haven’t been out to the cemetary since the funeral. Not even on Will’s birthday. Not even Christmas. Or his birthday. I feel like I could go and sit. I could tell him about the girls or what I have been doing or thinking. But he knows. I know that he knows. He would like my new haircut. He would be happy that I went and stayed with his friends. He would laugh at the girls’ antics during the day. I know that he knows. I have to believe something.
I’m more awake than I was, say, at New Years. I sleep less and get more done. The girls are into a routine. Ella doesn’t begin sentences with “When daddy gets home from heaven…” anymore. Amelia doesn’t look into the eyes of every man of childbearing age, looking for her daddy. I don’t listen for keys in the lock. I have adjusted to the fact that if I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. And I just do it. Whatever it is. Do it and stop thinking so much. That doesn’t stop me from tapping away at the computer which has ceased to be a tool and is a continuing time suck.
Which brings me back to the blogs. There is something for everyone. There is somebody, somewhere blogging about the thing that you hold dear and the thing that offends you to your core. Fan sites, people who write about themselves only in the third person, people who have toe fungus, moms, daughters, moms writing in the voice of their babies, knitters, knotters, men who stay at home watching episodes of Busom Buddies over and over. Something for everyone.