Loss

It's amazing, when you lose someone, how many other things you lose that are unrelated to the loved one.  I have lost my wife, my best friend, my favourite conversationalist, and my administrative support.  But that was all Gloria.  (I also lost my home, but that was sort of incidental.)

I have lost my schedule.  Our days were pretty rigorously set by Gloria's medical and dietary needs.  A number of her medications had to be taken with meals, and a number of others had to be taken away when her stomach was empty. Therefore meal times could not vary much because that would mess with the medication schedule, and would cause other problems.

So, I no longer have set times for things on a daily basis.  I've *started* to develop some schedule to the week.  Wednesday has become "grief day."  The first grief group met on Wednesdays.  The current grief group meets on Wednesday.  A number of the appointments that I've had with brief counselors have been on Wednesday.  So it's grief day.  It's one of the anchors of the week.

Thursday is old guys coffee morning.  A number of old guys from my main church meet at one particular place, at a given time, on Thursday morning.  I've now added to that a small group Bible study at my emergency backup church, and there is just enough time to walk from the coffee place to the church.

So things are being added to my week.  For example Tuesdays, or at least every second Tuesday, is now the certified usual suspect group.  (If you are a usual suspect you know what that means, and if you aren't you have no business knowing what it means.)

However, overall there is no given structure on a daily basis. Which means that everything has to be immediate.  If something needs to be done, it needs to be done right now, because there is not a given time to which to put off a specific task.  Therefore, everything that must be done must be done right now.  Everything must be done immediately. Otherwise it doesn't get done.

I have lost reading.  I find this extremely strange. I have always read. I have always loved reading.  I have always loved the library.  I have always loved books.  Mostly fiction for recreation, but all kinds of books.  For years I reviewed technical literature.  I always had a book with me, in case I had to wait anywhere for anything.  I take books when I am traveling on transit.  I took books when I was traveling to teach.  I read voraciously.

Almost as soon as Gloria died I stopped reading altogether.  This was extremely strange.  I would have thought it was a comfort.  But no, it was a chore.

I am starting to read.  Somewhat.  A little bit at a time.  I am not reading: certainly not reading as much as I used to.  It used to take me perhaps three or four days to read a massive novel.  Now, a little guide to the Camino de Santiago, less than a centimeter thick, has been with me for two weeks.  I haven't finished it yet. It's not that I am not enjoying it.  But I'm definitely not needing to pick it up every time I sit down.

I have lost pretty much all of my friends. Not that they've turned against me or anything like that: no they just aren't around. Nobody is calling.  Nobody is talking.  It's not that I can't talk to them about Gloria.  It's that they are terrified I might talk about Gloria, or grief, or death.  They can't figure out what to say.  They can't figure out what to say to make it better.  Of course nothing will make it better.  But they can't stand that possibility and so nobody is calling.  Nobody is talking.  I have no friends.