MMM: Wake Me Up When September Ends

The Pacific Northwest is in that season that Bruce used to describe as “the curtain is closing”.  What he meant was that the light was leaving as it gets darker and greyer and cooler with each passing day.  Don’t get me wrong, the days are still pretty glorious:  seventies and some clouds, the barest bit of rain, and lots of sun.  Not bad for mid-September.

I’ve learned recently that some signs of my grief have taken awhile to emerge and…..surprise!  Here they are.  Mostly that I’ve become absolutely inept at managing my calendar.  I’ve doubled booked myself for things and forgotten appointments and recorded other meetings at the wrong time.  So if you are somewhere waiting on me to be there, please text me.  I’ve probably written it down wrong, or not at all.  This is not like me at all, but what does that even mean in these days?

The other dandy new thing is that I had my first ever panic attack.  I was doing a hospital visit and thought “my goodness it’s so warm in this room that my heart is racing” and then realized that I needed to get out of there pronto.  Luckily, my parishioner didn’t seem to notice my faster-than-normal exit.  But the rest of the day was just impossible.  I finally went home and laid my body down hoping my mind and spirit would follow suit.  No more hospital visits for me for awhile.

The trauma therapist I’m working with noted that people who are “high functioning” can often take longer to experience these sorts of grief signs than others.  I’m such an Enneagram 3 that at first all I heard was “high functioning” and had to check myself before I offered myself a congratulatory pat on the back.  Not a compliment, Julie.

So, suffice it to say that I’m missing out on some pieces of the national and global news.  Which probably isn’t a bad thing.  But someone asked me recently why I am not reflecting more publicly about current events, which is something I used to do with regularity.  And the truth is, it’s hard for me to give them space right now.  All my body and mind and spirit can carry is: 1) Bruce is dead. 2) Insert work related things here. 3) Gratitude for you dear people who have been so amazing and supportive.* 4) I’m going to have to move (more on that another time). 5) I have the best kids and grandkids ever.  6) Bruce is dead. 

Which is why, I suppose, when I heard that Charlie Kirk had been shot, I had no clue who he was.  I mean, how long has he been around?  Oh, that long?  So it turns out that the algorithm gods haven’t put him or his messaging in my path. Which, honestly, given what I’ve read since last week, makes sense.   Kirk and I both say very publicly that we love Jesus.  Yes.  I also believe Jesus loves every queer person, every woman, every person who is differently abled, every person with skin darker than mine and I believe that it is this diversity that is the true gift of God to humankind and Creation. 

But, honestly?  My first thought when I heard that a public figure I’d never heard of had been shot was that another woman had joined this club of widows that none of us want to belong to.  (Yes, I googled whether he was married).   So regardless of whether our political or religious or societal views were the same (hint: they are definitely not), my takeaway is that his wife is now faced with doing all of the things widows have been doing on the fly since forever.  By the seat of our pants.  Figuring it out.  Arguing with insurance companies and hospital billing departments.  Closing and opening accounts.  Checking the texts and voicemails on his phone.  Figuring out what to do with stuff.  Writing thank you notes. (If I still owe you one….bear with me).   Rewinding the tape over and over in our minds (God forbid that there would be a video to watch, as there is in her case).

So, dear ones, someday my public witness will broaden again and I will write about the beautiful and terrible things in our common life.  For now, I can only muster enough oomph to write about the beautiful man I was lucky enough to share life with and the terrible terrible way his absence in the world makes me feel. 

*The kindness of others continues to sustain and uphold me. These appeared without a note on my porch yesterday. Stargazer lilies were our wedding flower and the flower B always gave me, and the flowers we had at his memorial service. Yesterday they were a reminder that love is fragrant and lingers in my world.