Personal Journal

Friday Dilemmas and Lessons

It's been a very busy day for me, even though I didn't go to work. I was about to say that I don't remember what I did all morning, but I do. I painted and I had therapy.

Some lessons at therapy today.
Some of the things I'm mad at myself about this week are self-created things so I didn't notice grieving Jean.
I believe that I was thinking of "grieving" as "grief". "Grieving" is a verb, it is an object in motion.

"Grief" is a noun, static. You can walk around "grief" and see all of its sides. But you must walk along with "grieving". You cannot walk around it because it's far too vast. Good god that's almost deep.

I may have to quote myself on that one someday. I'm a word guy. Sometimes I remember why.

So we got that bullshit out of the way today, like I saw the man behind the curtain. And there I was grieving Jean. Between last Friday's session, and today's, I spent a lot of the time just angry or depressed because of things I created. Underneath all that was watching Jean die. That's what really bothers me. And I was just throwing mud at it to obscure it all week.

I think it hit me... I still don't know on what night something happened ... can't remember if it was last night or the night before. At all... Not a normal memory issue I have, but I guess a consequence of not sleeping since Sunday well. Anyhow, it hit me when I woke up seeing Jean have the hotflashes. And last night, I was thinking incessantly, unable to sleep, but forcing myself to stay in the bed. I shot up and I thought "Good god, why couldn't have been me? I don't even enjoy living that much, and she enjoyed it so immensely."

And I'm going to age. But the source of these memories never will. I will be able to pull on these like few other memories in my life. Everything. Why did I sit there in the room with that body that night? Why? What was I trying to prove to myself? What was I thinking.

I rememeber opening the window to keep the room cool. I was so cold. And Jean's color... jeezus I can't remember I haven't thought of this till now. Her skin kept changing colors, paler and paler. I hugged her once, and I kissed her once right after she died. And she wasn't warm. When I hugged her later, all the warm blood had settled to the bottom of her lying body, and the surface of her was cold, but the underside of her back was hot. I learned that hugging her again later, noticing that, and rigermortis (is that two words?). I didn't hug her again, and I wished I hadn't that time, some several hours after the nurse had left us... me?

Is it wrong of me not to want that memory now? I so wanted to be with her for a few more hours, even if she was dead. I just wasn't ready for them to take her body yet.

Epilogue:
that memory just triggered the most intense crying outburst my life has ever seen. ever. If bliss is next to heavan, then I what I just cried was the opposite of bliss. I don't know what that word is right now, but I know I was right next to hell