My Waiting Room

My apologies for being absent.  I honestly have no good reason.  The days tick by one-by-one and when I pause and look up, somehow three weeks have passed.  I'm not quite sure how that happened.

It's another Sunday morning and I sit here quietly browsing the internet and drinking my cup of coffee.  Sunday's are my relaxing, take-it-slow, day.  There are usually some chores thrown in just out of necessity.  But I try to do any errands and most chores on Saturday so that Sunday can be a day of relaxing.

Two weeks ago was Valentine's Day.  I spent time with some fellow widowed girlfriends.  I figure instead of us sitting around missing what we used to have, we'll get together and share each other's company.  There was dinner, roses, chocolates, and lots of good conversation.  What else could a girl ask for?!

Dan remembered me on Valentine's Day and sent me chocolate the week before and sent flowers to me at work the Friday before.  Both of these were surprises and the flower delivery in particular brought tears to my eyes.  You see, Ed always sent me flowers--for every birthday, anniversary, Valentine's Day.  And for Dan to remember that and to have the forethought to do the same for me, touched me beyond belief.  I know his father would be so proud of him.  I know I am.

Today I'm off to have lunch with a group of fellow wids.  Some I know and have gotten together with before; some I have never met before.  I find it ironic, though, that I'm looking forward to this event since I am usually not this adventurous and would not drive to some place I've never been to before to meet people I didn't know, especially alone.  However, one of my good friends will be there, so it makes it less frightening.


I'm keeping busy while finding the balance of not being "too" busy.  I recognize when I'm too busy, that life becomes too stressful.  I'm learning to say "no" and take life at a slower pace (or at least attempt to).  Thankfully, winter has been kind this year and I can see signs that spring is on its way.

So I'm here.  Am I doing good?  I'm not sure...I'm surviving though.  In a book I'm reading, they reference a "waiting room"...the phase between initial grief and whatever the next phase of our life should be.  I'm starting to move out of this waiting room.  I'm not sure what the next chapter of my life will be.  I'm afraid and I want so desperately to stay in my waiting room, where it's safe.  But Ed is not coming back to me and I cannot go back to my previous life.  So it is time to move forward.  To step out of this safe place I've been in where I don't need to face the future. An unknown future.  A scary future.  But also, maybe, just maybe if I'm lucky, it can be a future that can bring happiness and love again.  But I'll never know if I remain here in the waiting room alone, only looking backwards.  The door from my waiting room is open and so today I stand in the doorway, peeking out, tentatively dipping my toe into whatever awaits me.  It's scary.  I'm afraid.  But I'll keep the door open and take it slowly...