Distractions

So much has happened in three days yet it is all non-descript trivia compared to what a "holiday" weekend should be.  For me, all holidays are not much fun.  Accidents happen on holidays and I hate waiting for the inevitable when it may never happend, holiday after holiday.  But, there you have it.

I still had several unedited boxes from the house in NC sitting in the dining room that I decided I needed to go through so we could actually walk through the room without bogeying around them.  One was the "kitchen" box.  All Mary's cookbooks, nicknacks, utinsiles, cheese board, recipes, and just stuff that you collect when you have your own kitchen, were in that box.  Since I took the mircowave stand and put it in my kitchen I thought it only fitting to put up as many of her cookbooks as I could.  But it's just not the same....   The other box was just stuff that was around the house looking for a home so I put it in this box, pictures, candles, hats, gloves, calendars, postcards, her toolbox we gave her when she moved to UGA, and just more stuff that you collect just by living everyday.  I had to find a place for it.  

Downstairs I still had the box from her desk at work.  I've been making shelves from anything I can find (still making more) so I can organize all my stuff and Mary's things.  This box was sticking out in front of the sewing machine (the antique one I gave her for graduation) calling my name saying "please, help me find a place to rest" so I finally did.   Then there were the boxes and bags with all the sheets, blankets, pillow cases, and towels.  Some I've washed and put away, some I'm putting in the attic, saving for Julie.  Half of them were things I gave her, and now I have them back. I don't like boomerangs.  Once I give you something, I expect you to keep it.

I washed one small comforter and realized when I took it out of the washer that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have washed it.  The stuffing was all bunched up and wadded like lumpy mashed potatoes.  But after drying it the lumps flattened out.  

I signed up for a painting and drawing class with a friend of mine.  Every Wednesday after work we get to travel to another land and try to figure out what it looks like.  We were supposed to do this back in February but life got in the way. 


Got my guitar back from the fix-it man.  Now just need to find my old song book with all the music and chords from college.  I think Danny has it.   I set up my keyboard downstairs so Cindy and I can play it.  Gotta buy a book about how to teach yourself how to play for Cindy.  Then if she gets tired of practicing it will only have cost me $5 instead of $25 a half hour.


It's starting to get hard to look at Mary's pictures now.  They are all the same ones, over and over again.  I've got to find some new ones somewhere so it won't seem so much like time is not progressing.  It just hurts, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, not talking to her yet seeing her picture and clothes and books and everything that made up her life.  Sometimes I cry and cry and no tears come out.  When she was a baby and would get sick at Christmas time she would get so dehydrated that she had no tears.  


My counselor says I am not depressed.  Grieving creates a defense mechanism which is like a blanket or a quilt (remember the poem?).  It only lets reality through when I choose to look under it.  If I see too much I put it down and block out the pain.  I lift it only when I want to or need to.  So far it I haven't had the strength to lift it very much.  But it happens on days and nights like these when there are no distractions.  After I put away 3 boxes I got in my truck and went shopping at the thrift stores.  Bought lots of pretty tops and pants so I can't gain any weight back or I won't be able to fit into them and since I've spent all this money I'd better wear them for awhile.


I don't like to listen to the songs Mary and I liked anymore.  I'd play them in the truck going to work and coming home but now I can't.  I'm tired of crying to and from work.   I just want to get home as quickly as I can.  Have you ever driven somewhere on auto pilot?  Got to where you were going and had no recollection of the turns and stops you made other than knowing you made it safely?  I can't do auto pilot anymore when there are so many people on the road.  


Starting in October I have to work longer hours.   It's not getting back to "normal", it's more distraction.  I wonder how long I can distract myself.  I am working on finding money for the scholarship and things to raffle for Mary's party.  I don't want to do any of it.  I shouldn't have to do any of it.  I want to go back to the future and make some adjustments like in the movie.  Why can't movies be real?   The beers are wearing off so I'd better go to bed while I'm still tired.