Do You Know How Short the Days Are?

Well, I’m back at it.

You may have noticed that I didn’t publish anything over the weekend again, and that’s intentional on my part. I’ve made the decision to make this a Monday through Friday endeavor for the time being, with the intention of purposely giving myself two days per week where I don’t have to produce anything for anyone other than myself.

I know the definition of “work” is a complicated one. When I’ve taken time off work in the last couple of weeks, and have told folks that, sometimes they are surprised that I consider myself to be taking a vacation day but still working on grants, or seeing counseling clients, or whatever. I guess that’s because my academic job is my job job, and everything else I do feels less like work and more like “other stuff I do”.

But the point is well-taken, and I know I need time that’s legitimately off from all my responsibilities and whatever. So weekends are now for resting, and resting means I can write but am not going to feel a sense of responsibility to publish here. Three cheers for conscious rest!

I really enjoyed the weekend, on that note. I got to spend a really enjoyable afternoon with a friend at an apple orchard, eating apple cider donuts and drinking a cider slushie under the shade of the trees. We talked about how huge an adjustment this whole grief thing is, and how her own grief and loss experience has changed over the years. I continue to be immensely grateful for the gift of time that so many of you offer up to me so freely these days. These conversations with my supports have made such a difference for me, especially over the last month or so as I’ve gotten more reflective and been a little less reactive and sad. I know, I still get sad lots of the time, but I can see changes in myself. Incremental change is still change.

Later that night, I got to see The Mountain Goats at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. There’s an outside stage there, and the night was absolutely beautiful. I’ve wanted to see John Darnielle live for years and years now, and he did not disappoint. I’m really glad that I went.

This was my first time going to a concert on my own that I expected to have huge emotional resonance for me, and it sure did. I’ve probably seen hundreds of shows in my life, and I cannot remember ever openly weeping during any of those. The Weird Al show was a real bucket list event for me, and was hugely entertaining, but that’s about humor. This one was sometimes very funny, but if you know their music, the humor is not the primary focus.

I experienced a lot of feelings during the concert, and am grateful for having had the chance to be there.

Yesterday was much more about rest than Saturday, for obvious reasons. I got a lot of house-related tasks done, but it was also very relaxing to get them marked off my list. I didn’t feel pressured to accomplish any one thing, and instead just gradually worked my way through things like getting groceries ordered for the week, doing laundry, and just generally thinking about things.

Later on in the afternoon, I drifted off to a nap on the couch in the living room. If you’ve ever spent much time in our house with Kellie and I, then you know that I had my couch and she had hers. She’s spent a lot of time on that couch over the last seven or eight years, and I feel close to her there.

Something I may have not mentioned is that I haven’t been dreaming, really. That’s a change because I’m used to dreaming every time I go to sleep, but that’s another thing that I’ve lost. And I’ve only ever had the one dream with Kellie in it across the last four months, which has been a source of sorrow for me, but which I’m also resigned to.

Yesterday, for whatever reason, I had a really special dream. In it, I realized that Kellie was in the living room with me. I didn’t know where she was, I didn’t say anything to her and she didn’t say anything to me, but I knew she was with me. We were together in silence, just hanging out, and it filled me with a real sense of peace. Then I woke up. It gave me a bit of a peaceful glow for a while afterward. And that’s a gift, too. I don’t have any way of knowing whether Kellie was actually here (though I doubt it). I don’t know if it happened because I was in that place within our house that has been distinctly hers for so long, so my subconscious gave me that moment with her. It might have just been the universe, or God, or whatever, giving me a moment of respite from this unending stream of horrors. Whatever caused it to happen, though, I’m grateful that it did.

No matter whether we’re ready for it or not, the semester is very nearly upon us. I had my traditional social work faculty meeting prior to the start of the academic year, as I have for four years now. And it made me so homesick for Kellie, guys. I’m so used to her being my constant source of support and love, and it felt so wrong to have one of those meetings without her in it. This fall, I’m teaching two of the classes that were typically hers, and every bit of prep that I’ve done has given me such strong memories of Kellie.

I love her, I miss her, and I’m just never going to be the same. That’s good in some ways, and just awful at the very same time. I still don’t know how I’m going to be able to make it for years and years and years without her here. It’s a good thing I don’t usually think about years, just days (or even just hours).

Take care of yourself, and know that I’m trying to do the same.

Matt