Balancing the wallow (in grief) and moving on. Or at least keeping busy with plans and doing all the stuff she did.
- Diff'rent Strokes
- Normally, I wake up, think of my wife, talk to her, think about what we won't have or get to do together, and cry. But today was different, I did that and didn't cry. So I reflexively started thinking about her Mom and her, or other people that would never get to be touched my Melissa, and then the tears came. Then my brain kicked in and I was analyzing myself. Why do I feel the need to cry for everyone else -- all the people that loved her, and that would have loved her had they met her? It's not enough that I carry the grief for myself and my loss, but I have to take on the grief of others or the world? I just want to be sad? Don't wallow in sadness. Life goes on.
- I think the reason I wasn't crying about what she would miss, is I was focused on the memorial. I got a lot done yesterday, and she would have LOVED to be at the celebration of life I was planning for her. I had a few crying jags the prior day over various parts of that she'd like/miss, and was kinda cried out this morning. How many times can you sob over how much she liked queso and chips, or complaining about imperfections of our country club that she would fix/clean up.
- I was doing the rememberence with her favorite people, foods, place (kinda), and it was all about her. (She loved Mexican food and Margaritas). She was sometimes awkward with that much attention, but often secretly loved it. All girls want to be special. (I never get past uncomfortable when it's about me).
- I was booking a nice Funeral Home chapel (with the smarmy folks), but her Mom/Mary reminded me how informal Melissa was (we got Married in shorts and sneakers), and the Chapel/Funeral home was a bit heavy; why not do it at our country club which overlooked her Lake? Done. It could hold 150 with parking (60 had pre-RSVPd), was close, and it helped a whole casual theme (and things Melissa loved).
- Melissa, ever the perfectionist, thought our clubhouse is OK, but not in perfect repair. Melissa's neat freak wanted to fix the flaws. But the people are nice, and we like it, and it has a view of her lake that she loves, and she liked it, even through its flaws. Like her with me.
- That meant Cinco De Mayo (or near enough); with a Margarita Bar, and I pre-booked catering from Lupe's Tortilla, one of her favorite places and with some of her favorite things; just chips, enchiladas, salsa, queso and quac, and some taquitos/flautas. But no puffy tacos (her fav). You want people to mingle and tell stories, not move in.
- The 5th was booked and I couldn't get catered. I could get Thursday May 4th -- but she never watched Star Wars (intentionally) and would resent a Geek Holiday (May the 4th be with you). Or Sunday April 30th, and more could attend a weekend (Sunday) generally. I put a deposit for April 30th / 1:00 pm. (Still need to do invites with charity details, and final RSVP). I darkly thought Cinco De Mayo coming early was correlated with Melissa passing way too soon. (Fuck!)
- I felt a little guilty about never doing a party like this when she was alive (we did do a good celebration or two for her 50th). But no slide shows, videos or testimonials? Why don't we celebrate a life more while they are alive?
- I did a lot more administrative stuff (some banking stuff, more mail/bills/etc, I'd done some insurance and mailed/cards/packages from her the day before), I delivered a gift she'd bought for a friend (Gayle) she was considerate even from the grave. And I wanted to close out some of the things Melissa had wanted to do. I'll never be as considerate as she was. But I can at least check off some pending's for her.
- Now today includes my visit to Doctor Longfinger (nickname for my urologist), and see about the chip clip. He really has basketball player sized hands with no qualms about finger blasting me. It seems for at least a while, I'm done with both the ass-rape and the antibiotics that don't seem to do much but make me uncomforatable. I was a little testy (pun intended) with their front office staff because they wanted me to take a new PSA because they were too lazy to call the referring doctor and get the one I took in January. (I'd only asked them both to do, twice before). I guilted the shit out of them this time with their nasty call about not doing another test, "remember when I asked you last time? I"m sorry, but I've been busy with my wife in the hospital for a month and her dying and all -- so maybe you can do your job to save me from an unnecessary medical test?" She said she'd see what she could do. She didn't get anything. So I took a picture on my phone of the result, and they accepted that. Since the pain isn't that bad, it's more something I just need to learn to live with. (It's only a 1 or 2, and I can take advil to help).