Today was eerie. I have been putting off going to the bank to open a checking account for Mary’s estate. Just one more pronouncement of “life after death”, so to speak. Her name has been removed from my checking account. It has been there for the last 12 -13 years. We did this in case something happened to us she would be able to access the monies in our accounts without trouble. Who knew….Then I find out that any of the names on our accounts have the right to survivorship. There would be no trouble. All the money in Mary’s account automatically was mine anyway.
I got all the papers together I thought was needed. My notebook has pictures of Mary, her story page, Kleenex for me, and notes on everything that has happened so far. In January I started a journal, my new years resolution. Each time I try this I end up with about 4 pages for the entire year. And that’s exactly what I have in that journal. I haven’t written a poem or song in years. Now I have pages and pages of stuff. Why is it the things you were going to do never happen until it’s too late. “The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have.” Louis E Boone
Mary was an “I did it, am doing it, or about to do it” person.
The man a the bank was nice, very professional, very helpful. I did not cry even though I was prepared with Kleenex. But I did not smile or even engage in small talk. Just sat there staring at the papers, signing my name where he marked the X’s. Thank goodness for the letter X. Money was transferred and then it was over. “Thanks for doing business with Wachovia and have a nice day” he says. Yeah, right.
I have found as I sit on the sofa watching TV that there are two realities. I can look at Mary’s pictures now without falling apart (still can’t type without crying) but I can exist in the everyday world a little better. Then there’s the knowledge reality. All of a sudden a light flashes in my brain that says “Mary’s gone”. I try to picture her standing in front of me and the feeling that hit me when the policeman said “there’s been an accident” hits again. It is so overwhelming that I can’t breathe. I see myself on the floor screaming no……no….. no…… and yelling Mary’s dead, Mary’s dead. All this happens in a flash and then I my chest hurts so bad that it takes my breath away. If no one is around I sob till I can’t anymore. If I’m around people, I bite my lip, close my eyes, and leave to somewhere else. It happens at work, in stores, while cooking dinner, gazing at her willow tree, playing with Anna. If Kerry looks at me with his head down and bottom lip out, it happens.
We all are grieving differently. (I do NOT like the word grieve.) It’s so gray and forlorn – too adequately describes me. When I get irritated and throw things or just burst into tears, Kerry just lets me be. He picks up what’s hit the walls or floor. He plays the same songs over and over, drinks some Maker’s Mark in the evening, and sighs a lot. We all sigh a lot. Danny hugs me every time he sees me. Julie holds my hand or lays her head in my lap when we are sitting on the sofa. Reminds me of when she was little.
Life has changed forever. Will I be able to change with it?