Its been one of those weeks. Not even close to the worst week in the world but not one that I would want to relive. I've been really sick all week, out of work Monday and Tuesday, and probably should have been out of work a lot more but had to go in. I wandered the halls hopped up on cold medicine, nose dripping, apologizing for my spaciness, and getting things done. My office mate had the same thing so when I looked to her for motherly sympathy, I saw the same drippy nose, sore throat, and cold medicine haze, and just decided to keep it to myself. This is the same cold that my husband had and its now moving from my head to my chest and I expect to spend the week feeling better but honking like a goose with a drinking problem. On a happy note I am very very funny when hopped up on cold medicine so while I may say crazy things at meetings but they are almost always funny.
This week was also Adam's NYC memorial service and I had about 35 people to out house on Friday night for a memorial dinner. Friday night TV and dinner is kind of a staple amongst my friends and it seemed only fitting to bring my family and Adam's family together. Adam spent many holidays with my family and always felt like a family member. While our parents had met before, it was way back in college. It was a wonderful way to spend the night before his memorial service. Our house has always felt like Adam's house both because he spent so much time here and because he helped us buy it a year ago.
My husband summed up Adam's memorial service the best, it was "punishing". We all wept as people spoke about him, showed funny pictures, and told amusing stories. This service felt very different in that we were over the initial shock and starting to really feel what happened. I want to reach out to his family and tell them what I went through when my dad died but then I don't want to intrude. At first you can't believe what just happened, then you can't imagine how you will get through it, and then, about 7 month later you'll have a hole in your heart. I don't know what happens after that but I know it gets both better and worse. Worse because the pain continues to be intense and unpredictable, better because you learn how strong your support networks are.
I experienced this in the months following my dad's death: an intensity of pain and a connection to those who I knew had experienced similar horrors. I began comparing my own loss to other tragedies and couldn't imagine the pain of war or the loss of a child. I swing back and forth between that deep acute pain and the detachment that comes with trying to keep yourself safe. I have a bit of paranoia and wish I could just spend my day's protecting those around me. Most of the time I just want to sleep (which is in my nature given my narcolepsy).
Most of all I long for summer. Weird, I know, but I long for the change of season when I'm warm all the time, can sit on the roof at night, watching the planes fly over head and listening to the crack of the baseball bat. I have a deep faith in myself that I will feel better, stop wishing to sleep all the time, and go back to my perky, merry ways but I can't do anything to rush the time that it will take to get back there. So ugh. Sigh. Sniffle. I hope this cold goes away by the time the PMS comes back.
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