It's been two weeks since my lover died. My brain knows this, but my heart still can't comprehend the fact the Doug is not just down the road somewhere waiting to come home. I don't think I've even scratched the surface of grief yet. There has been so much to do. Even after the funeral I've barely had a moment to think about Doug's passing. When I do have a moment, when I am alone at night, I try not to think about it. Denial is my threadbare blanket. It does not offer any warmth or comfort. Denial does not offer me any protection. What it does offer me is a sheath of delusion that everything is okay. I've been wrapped up in my denial blanket for some time, months maybe. It is so full of rips and holes I can barely keep it together. I suppose that is a good thing.
I went back to work this last week. One afternoon I had to work later than my usual. My first thought was to call Doug and tell him I'll be home late. This thought was even more out of place since Doug had not been able to communicate on the phone since November 2008. Strange how I was back in my routine and felt like everything was "normal." Stupid heart causing me to forget even for a brief second or two.
I was warned this would happen. That I would want to place phone calls. That I would wonder what we are going to do for dinner tonight. I was warned I could be in a room full of people and still feel incredibly lonely for the person I love. My brain knows this, but my heart sill can't comprehend.
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