A bereavement counselor from Hospice called me last week, and I made an appointment for Monday evening. I'm interested to see how it goes. She asked me how I'm doing, and I admitted that I think I'm doing fine, until suddenly I'm not. Weird stuff sets me off, like an e-mail I sent before Dale died. Like there's this big dividing line, When Life Changed. But that's silly: it's not like I didn't know or expect it.
So anyway, that's probably normal, having these surprise reminders. It's okay. But the counselor seemed to think I went back to work too soon. (I was off for, like, two weeks!) She asked if I found it difficult. And in a way I do - I have trouble concentrating, and I don't really care about the work - but I'm not sure I can blame that on Dale. I always get this way in the fall and in the spring. <grins> I assured her that my coworkers are a large part of my support system, and I'm okay at work.
A very odd thing happened yesterday. A colleague in a different group, with whom I don't work closely, came to see me, and shut my door. What could he have to say to me that required a closed door? He said he hadn't had a chance to catch up with me since my husband died, and he wanted to extend condolences. Surprised, I thanked him ... he coulda said that in the hall! And then he told me that he had some idea what I had been going through, with the nursing home and declining health and all, because he'd been through something similar. "Only not a spouse - or a parent," he said. "A child."
Whoa. He's always seemed like such a goofy guy, and kind of arrogant, and I never thought he was dealing with what has to be the worst that life can toss at a person. You never know what stuff people are going through. I was speechless. He said, "Well, not to belabor the point or anything, but I feel for you, and I like you, so ... " and he got up and hugged me. This was a hug I returned wholeheartedly.
And this makes me cry more than any reminders of Dale. I smile at reminders of Dale: he makes his spirit known. (Although I struggle with the assurance I received on a sympathy card, that I can take comfort in knowing "he's in Heaven." I wonder if Dale would even LIKE Heaven?)
What makes me cry is ... human contact. People caring. And me caring about people. My heart goes out to the man who made this effort to connect with me. My heart goes out ... and meets other hearts. The energy of such connections is all I really care about right now. The counselor asked me if I was okay being around people. Honestly, I'm okay being around people who know me really well; but I don't want to go to the Halloween parties where I don't know people, or spend much time in public unless I'm with someone I love and trust.
It's a time for healing, not for testing my strength. I know this. I wonder how long it will take until I feel healthy? I suppose it's a comparative thing: I feel healthy NOW, until I don't ... and that continues, but the periods of "don't" are farther and farther apart.
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