not much left to say

As you've noticed, I haven't been writing with much 'substance' lately. I am at a loss for what to say. I wonder if I've said it all before. I hardly remember at times if I've felt these things before. What I feel is unknown even to me. Things here are changing and evolving but staying remarkably the same. Life is moving forward. Things are needing attending to. Other people are forgetting. This movement takes me farther away from the moment that Jeff died. Those few minutes are never far from my thoughts, but they are no longer the first thing I think of in every situation. I don't 'see' Jeff's face in my hands and 'hear' myself screaming as I have a totally unrelated conversation with someone. The voice has stopped telling me, "Jeff's dead". The terror and trauma are there, but to a lesser degree.
I am finding that as I emerge from whatever you would call that place...shock? hell?....I forget that Jeff is gone more often. I don't think 'forget' is actually the correct word. The fear of the moment is not as sharp and it is easy to remember and to sink into my now pseudo life as it was/would have been. I think this may be denial. I try to avoid his photos. They just make me remember the feel of the curls at the back of his neck. The smell on his clothes. The shape of his feet. It hurts too much and makes me long for him so intensely it physically hurts. I steer my mind away from the pain. I try to tell myself that it is okay. That I am strong and I am surviving.
But I have more of those moments where I think, "I can't wait to tell Jeff!" "When Jeff gets home..." I can't totally understand why these thoughts are actually increasing, other than that somehow, the last moments I had with him cease to be the last moments I remember of him. In someways, it feels as if March 25th, 2008 happened years ago and that he has been with me since. Maybe, I'm just going insane. Maybe my brain is coping by sending me on a mental trip....but this is so NOT a holiday.
Last week, I got 'Jeff mail'. It was from the sheriff's office. I worried that I had forgotten to pay his speeding ticket and now they were going to take him/me to court. I tore the envelope open to find a jury summons. A jury summons. Those of you who knew Jeff well will know why I then burst into laughter. Jeff on a jury! Hilarious! I couldn't wait to tell him....Then I sat down and sobbed. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't laugh with him about the absurdity of a jury summons for Jeff. I would never laugh with him.
And now, I just have to keep walking. These kids need to be fed. The house needs to be cleaned. The washer needs repairing. I need to pick up a parcel....I feel like we're....I'm pretending that life goes on. And sometimes, I think I'm doing okay. Like when you learn to ride a bike and you're thinking, "LOOK! I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" And then you fly over your handlebars and get gravel shoved up your nostrils and scraped knees. I'm angry about how this life is.
I don't want to move on. I feel like I'm rebelling. I do things that would have never occurred to me before. I just don't care anymore. I have nothing to lose (except my kids and I would fight to bodily death for them). Everything is...empty and ridiculous. Things I enjoyed in my life 'before' are devoid of meaning. I scoff at the stupidity of society and the motivations behind most actions. It's all vacuous crap....But then, on the other hand, I find myself staring at people and wondering what their story is. How did they get this way? I am falling in love with elderly people who have been through so much. Who have endured wars and lost children and the loves of their lives. Have suffered atrocities and terrors. Still they stand. Some have found meaning. Some have gained the spark back in their eyes. They are my heroes. I want to hear them. I want to ask them how long it was before 'they' returned. I want to know that I am not alone in grief. I want to hear that people have suffered....worse and lived to live again.
My brain and my emotions have left me. They left an empty shell. An automaton. I exist. I don't live. I died as he took his last breath.....But maybe. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe one day, I will live again. I can't see it now. But if I look to people who have endured and survived through horror, I know there may be hope.