It's hitting me

2016-10-29T22:28:45Z

Because I've tried to stick to my routines and keep busy, the reality of Richard's death is just hitting me now, two months later. Even though I was at his side when I saw his head slump forward, and even though he hasn't been home at all in two months, and I haven't been back to the hospital in that time. I mean, I have his ashes in a can in the other room, but it's hard to put two and two together sometimes.

And the memorial service will be November 20th at a church around the corner. I've graciously offered—in a FB message—to Richard's girlfriend that I'd stay away so she could share about their special bond. She replied, "Thanks."

My plans are to take myself up to Harlem for a vegan soul-food brunch and totally blow off the memorial. In a group chat on FB Sara muses that she'll probably stay at the memorial just to say a few words and then go home to Cold Spring, so conceivably I could slink in after I was sure she'd left. Slink in, right: because I've always felt like I was the "other" woman, even after I'd lived here over 20 years. That's why I'm not buying into that "sneaking in after I'd made sure the coast was clear"; people who know of my plans say they'd always thought of me and Richard as a couple and would be puzzled not to see me at a memorial for him.

Sara was there first. She used to plan activities for the two of them, Richard said, probably in an effort to keep them together.
I've also taken a very hands-off role in planning the memorial next month: my downstairs neighbor Elizabeth told me up front: "I'm an excellent event planner," and proceeded to take care of most everything; I paid for the rental of the room. I complained to her once that she took over everything, even things I wanted to do, and she said she'd cleared it with me first. (She hadn't; but at that point I gave up and figured I'm not going to be there anyway, so who cares?)

She did try to involve me in decisions, saying, "How do you like the setup of the chairs; do you think they should be facing the park?" I told her I didn't care since I wasn't going to be there.

I've been very depressed today, and it's a strange feeling; I haven't been depressed like this in well over 20 years. It'll pass; I just don't know when.

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My so-called journal

It's hitting me