Thirty Weeks
It has been thirty weeks since Michele died; two-hundred and ten days. At times it seems like she was never here and at times it seems like she was here just yesterday. There are still moments in my life when I expect to see her or hear her voice calling me. Sometimes in my dreams I imagine I hear her talking to me, only the message is lost when I wake up.
Spending my birthday this year without her was very difficult. Most of the day was spent driving home from Illinois, and combined with my overall exhaustion level, it made for a very difficult afternoon and evening. I cried quite a bit, and had a good, if tearful at times, conversation with L. She took the time to call me yesterday morning to sing me ‘Happy Birthday’ on my voice mail. It was very sweet and touched me deeply.
Even thought this posting starts off with a count of the days I’ve stopped keeping track. Now I have to look at a calendar and add up the weeks. On the one had I am glad that I am no longer obsessing about the number of days or weeks. On the other hand I do feel like I am letting her (or me) down by not keeping track. I realize that part of grief is letting go of how things were and accepting how this are. Not counting every single day is a part of the letting go process for me.
Michele will always be a part of me and my life. Even if she were alive today I would be setting aside some parts of me and discovering new parts. That some of what I am setting aside now are tightly involved with her isn’t good or bad, it’s just the truth. Life goes on and one, with or without us.