Several people on Facebook, Twitter and via text took a moment yesterday to wish me a happy birthday. A smaller group even took some money out of their pockets and bought me birthday gifts. I really am glad for all of it. It is because of all of those nice words that yesterday was no worse than all the other bad days I’ve had since Ginny died. I say yesterday even though as I write this there’s a little over 4 hours left in the day but as I’ve explained before, I write these in advance.
One comment stood out above all, however. It was my aunt Inez who wished me a happy birthday and said that today would be good if I wanted it to be. I think maybe she was right and that I did not want it to be good…or I didn’t want it enough.
I kept my phone off all day save for a few minutes to let it download all of my Facebook texts. I didn’t go to see Star Wars even though I guess two different people invited me to do so. I didn’t go to dinner, I didn’t have friends over. I listened to sad music while I cried.
I don’t know when my phone will be on and open to calls from others. I’ll have it on next week for updates on my dad’s trip to Mayo Clinic and because I have a meeting scheduled for Monday. Anyone else who tries to call had better not expect an answer. The same is true for company. I need to go grocery shopping but once that’s done, my willingness to socialize will probably disappear completely. I have no idea when I expect it to come back.
There are things in life that can be known on two levels. They can be known on an intelectual level and on an emotional one. I knew intelectually what would happen to me when Ginny passed away. I knew what would happen well before she even got sick. Ginny was my anchor, often the only thing that kept me from losing my mind completely. I knew her death would probably set me a drift.
Then it actually happened. Certain things that I’ve described in my blog posts since she has passed are the things I expected. In a way, that actually comes as a bit of a relief because it means that this is all so natural. Then there are those things that I didn’t expect.
Things like the dreams. Sometimes they’re good, she’s still with me. Sometimes, like the ones that ensured I had an early wakeup call on my birthday they are bad. In one nightmare, I was doing battle with the Wicked Witch of the West from Wizard of Oz fame. I tried to throw water on her and kept missing. I looked to Ginny for a distraction but Ginny wasn’t there. It is one of those times I’m glad I was sleeping alone because what woke me from that dream was my own arms and legs thrashing. I don’t even recall the last time I had a nightmare at all, let alone one that made me work so hard.
The struggle continues.