Weeks Not Days

Weeks, not days...that is now how I'm counting time since Ed went into the hospital, since Ed passed, since Ed's funeral.  And how in the world can it be weeks already since the pain is still as raw as it was when it was days.  I remember I couldn't wait for April to end and May to arrive.  That May would mark some new beginning.  But here we are in mid-May and there has been no new beginnings.  There has just been...

I am thankful for my job because it is tremendously busy and I can make things happen.  I am overwhelmed by all the work on my list of to do's.  But at the end of the day, I can look back and see that I made decisions, moved things forward, accomplished tasks.  But the rest of my life seems to be in a standstill...or is it a spiral?  I'm not quite sure.

The emptiness and loneliness and sadness fills my heart and my home.  I need to make myself notes to be sure I accomplish minor things, like putting away laundry or dumping the trash.  Don't get me wrong.  It's not like I get home and sit in a corner and cry.  But everything seems to be such an effort and everything seems to take much longer than before.  Somehow the clock moves from 7 PM to 8 PM to 10 PM and I don't know what I've done--not much.  It is that "fog" that I hear others refer to.  How can I be in a fog?  I'm a productive person.  I'm a do-er.  Well, I used to be.  But I must be in this fog because time is disappearing--weeks have passed, and I don't know what I've done in this time.  Hours turn into days and days turn into weeks and they all just blend together.  I fear the weeks turning to months and my life will continue to go on without Ed and this fog will continue to envelope me.

When a baby is born, we count their age by days, then weeks, then months, and years.  Those are joyous times and you are amazed at how quickly time passes and that little baby grows and changes each day.  And you smile and find joy in the miracle of birth and life.

When someone passes, we count the time by days, then weeks, then months, and years.  But there is not joy.  There is just sadness that time passes and life goes on.  And you cry and find sadness and loneliness in the mystery of death.