Friday, June 24, 2011

The Luxury of Tears.

Two days ago, I felt an internal shift. I had this tiny calming feeling, that Arthur was with me, in some way. I do not know if it is real or the result of my mind, desperate for relief, tricking me into thinking it is so. It was nothing dramatic, just a feeling that all was not lost, that Arthur knew what was happening to me. Is my psyche finding a way to care for me, or is there actually a link with Arthur, a thread so fine only a distant echo of our lost connection can traverse its span? I do wonder.

Today is one calender month since Arthur's funeral service and I have not contacted the director about interring his ashes. I am not ready yet, for that.

I applied for a part-time job this week. Arthur left me some money but I cannot stay out of work for very long. My children suggested I retire and they give me an allowance. I told them they need to save for their old age as having funds makes all the difference to quality of life.

I tell Arthur what I am doing,sometimes, am I being silly? I hope Arthur is with God. I fear the atheists' idea that death is the end;  it is a horrible thought.

I am keeping grief at bay, I tell myself not to give in to grief and I hold it off. I am not weeping all the time. There was a time when I could weep and there was someone there to comfort me. His arms would encircle me and I could cry my hurt into his shoulder, when the relief of tears was my privilege. Arthur is not here to do that for me anymore and I am afraid to weep alone.

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