I'm So Damn Good at Sorrow

For whatever reason, the past couple of days have brought constant reminders of how keenly I feel Kellie’s absence.

That really does provide an excellent example of how unpredictable all of this nonsense truly is. Because I was really sad last night, but not much at all today. The same triggers, the same missing, only a few hours apart—but last night sucked. And today was a very good day. It feels beyond random sometimes.

I enjoy the feedback from folks who say they love to read my work. Sometimes I wish that I was capable of writing about joyful things every day instead of this. Maybe that’s a someday thing. Right now, my grief is all that I can see when I look for inspiration—it’s just an infinitely-high wall that I can neither see over nor step around. It occupies my entire field of vision, and I look forward to the day when I also have space for other things in my writer’s mind’s eye.

I got a TON of grading done today, in addition to the first batch of admissions interviews for my program. It takes a lot out of me to do those interviews, because it’s non-stop social interaction and being “on” for hours in a row—but I love them, I honestly do. The students in my program (and applying for my program) are truly special, and I feel incredibly honored to get the chance to talk with them about their career goals and get to know them on a bit of a deeper level.

In terms of grading, I have once again dug myself a hole of un-graded student work. Fortunately, today was incredibly productive and I was able to get completely caught up in both of my classes. I won’t tell you how many hundreds of assignments I needed to grade, but it was several hundred. That’s specific enough to demonstrate how proud I am of today’s hard work and to explain how relieved I feel to be current with it all now.

My class this evening was also really lovely—again, these students are really sharp. I’m a fortunate guy to get the chance to learn from them as they learn from me, and once again I have to say that my Program Director job is truly a dream come true.

Things have been quiet for me on the social front the past couple of days, but that’s largely because my schedule was so busy that I didn’t have time to plan anything. It’s not a trend, it’s just that kind of a week.

I wish Kellie was here. I still think she’s just around the corner or just out at an appointment without me, or maybe in the shower. It feels like she might pop up at any time and like this entire thing could dissolve in a second. Every few weeks, I indulge myself with a couple minutes of pondering what I would say to her if she showed up and it was proven to all be some big kind of a mistake. I don’t allow myself to do this very often, because it’s an easy mind trap to get lost in, and I don’t want to dwell in a place of fantasy instead of reality. It’s not going to happen, but the relief I feel in those few minutes is pretty attractive.

My memory and general cognitive function are both a lot better than they were a few months ago. That gives me hope that the rest will come back eventually, even if it feels like excruciatingly slow progress sometimes.

A couple of weeks ago, I gave myself a real fright by accidentally leaving the stove burner on overnight. I didn’t realize I hadn’t turned it off after making supper. Luckily there wasn’t a pot or anything flammable anywhere around the stovetop, and I’ve been extra careful to double-check every time I cook since then.

Today, I was put into another tizzy upon leaving my office to discover that this pill bottle had been chewed in half by Coco while I was in a meeting, and that she had left six or seven allergy pills strewn around the hallway. Obviously I was extremely concerned that she’d poisoned herself, but it has now been five hours since she did it and she’s not exhibiting any symptoms, so I’m assuming we lucked out. She had gotten onto the dining room table and decided to help herself to a little treat.

Here’s an obligatory photo of the completely unrepentant Coco, who has learned zero lessons from this experience, and who will be one year old in a couple of weeks if she lives that long:

I keep being struck by just how STRANGE all of this is. I was never supposed to be the only one caring for these pups, I was never supposed to have to learn how to make it on one income, and I was never supposed to lose the best friend I’ve ever had. I was never supposed to live this version of my life.

I didn’t have the opportunity to swoop in and heroically save Kellie’s life, in spite of taking required CPR training at least a dozen times in my career. She was dead that quickly—just seconds. I guess I’m grateful that I’m not in the position of the person who posted online about doing CPR on her husband until she couldn’t physically do it anymore and then losing him. I don’t know how you manage the knowledge that your partner’s life was literally in your hands and that there was a chance, however small, for you to be able to bring them back. I blame myself for all kinds of things, but that’s something I can’t blame myself for, because she was already gone.

I saw someone saying online that he had always hoped to be the one to die before his wife so that she could go through the experience of dying without being alone, because he’d be there to walk alongside her as she went wherever comes after this life.

For whatever strange reason, that’s a framing of the entire thing that gives me some comfort. As alone as I am right now, I really do believe she’s somewhere, and that we’ll be together again sometime, whenever that is. I know I won’t be this alone forever, and that thought is one of the things that helps me stop crying when nothing else will.

That’s enough sorrow for a random Tuesday. Off to seek happiness and distraction for the rest of my evening. Love you.

Matt