Grief 3: Alone

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

I've never lived alone before. The quiet is deafening, hence the need for the TV to be on. I'm talking to Ambrose, the bear every day. SIGH.

It occurred to me yesterday that I am reluctant to wake up in the morning. I get a decent night's sleep, wake at 7:30 or 8, and then roll over, letting melatonin hangover drop me back into dreams. I've been sleeping until 10! I may be using my need for sleep after hospice (which is very real) as an excuse to avoid getting up to an empty house.

I've also been pondering advance grief. Is it possible I'm finished already? I was relatively calm when the decision for hospice was made because Greg and I had had suspected heart failure all along. Dr. Yasmajian thinks not. She suspects that caregivers frequently experience relief in the immediate aftermath of death that masks other things and grief can come in a wave later. Everyone grieves differently. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I walk with God every day. I'm not alone.

Two Hours Later...

Walking out on a nippy afternoon, I thought about something else, the hermit saints. Starting with Anthony of Egypt to Thomas Merton we have a whole history of people being called to solitude. I am not one of them. I've never felt a strong contemplative call. I was called to marriage and family. So what are God's plans for me in widowhood? I'll find out eventually.

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