It’s been six months on my own. I finally feel like I have a “normal” groove and fit into my own life again. I find I am both relieved and sad that life feels “normal”. Everything about my day to day has been a rollercoaster for so long that having no significant worry or tragedy looming over me is almost bizarre. By no means is life stress-free! My job has my every thought and ounce of energy booked through Thanksgiving, but that is a stress I know how to handle.
I have several pictures of Roger and I on the piano from the memorial. I have to admit I haven’t stared at them in quite a while like I used to. But yesterday I happened to look in that direction, and my eye was caught by a picture of us from before we were married, looking so carefree, relaxed, and happy. I literally felt my heart flutter, that same rush of adrenaline you get the first time you’re kissed or in those early stages of a relationship when a simple look is enough to make your stomach fall. But sadly, it wasn’t a tender thought or loving memory that brought it on. It was the realization that that all just happened!
It’s not like I ever forget; how could I. But I am constantly reminded after however brief or long a period of calm that I just went through the most horrific shit storm and that all the wonderful and crappy moments of the last four and a half years were MY life. I am both deeply embedded and extricated from my own reality, and that is a strange level of consciousness I must say.
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