When February 1st came round this year, I woke up every day counting it down. Morbid, I know, but I couldn't help waking up, trying to remember back to what was going on in 2011, thinking 'we had 15 more days'.... '14 more days....' I was very nervous about what February 16th would bring.
Not a whole lot.
That's what it brought.
I took off half a day in advance, not knowing what my emotions would be. I had one moment on the way to work that I felt the anxiety building. Flute sectionals took my mind off it for a while. I left at noon, drove home, and pulled weeds. I love pulling weeds. It is very satisfying to get the whole root, and so it becomes a challenge: can I get the whole thing? It's also very addicting because once you pull one, the next one becomes more obvious. I pulled weeds for about an hour in my back yard.
Around 2:00 I got a massage. I told the masseuse that I only like light pressure on my legs, firm everywhere else. He wanted to know if that meant I didn't like foot rubs. That question almost sent me over the edge. I used to get foot rubs a lot... like every night. It was my little dose of spoiling. It took a lot to quell the adrenaline at that moment. The massage helped a lot. I was glad I got it.
I met with the Williams clan for dinner and drinks at Chez Zee that night. I got rear ended one block from the restaurant... Fate still thinks I appreciate her sense of humor. I don't. We had a great evening together. I was glad that the center of our attentions was not mourning Roger. We all do enough of that regularly. At least for me, and I would assume for the others by the presence of beverage and desert, it was a celebration of surviving.
How do you live through something like that? You keep living.
I looked for answers and miracles all year, but the answer is simply wake up, get dressed, go to work, surround yourself with supportive people, eat kinda healthy (with a good bit of Taco Bell in there), have doglets, go to bed, repeat.
I fixed the garbage disposal tonight all by myself with a little help from Google.
Last year over a year ago, that was Roger's job. Tonight it's mine, and I only thought about calling my dad for help like 7 times.