It has now been ten days since my husband, Ron, passed away. Life goes on, and while I appear to be functioning on a normal level, I am numb.
I get up, go to work, come home. The holidays are a distraction. I have my daughter and her kids coming here on Christmas day and my sister and her family on December 26th. I had to decorate, at least to a certain degree. I got my tree up, some decorations out in that room and my kitchen, and called it done. It wasn’t fun this year. It was just a process that I did, a duty I performed.
My granddaughter, Alexandria, had her first birthday, and as is our tradition my daughter came over with cake and we had a celebration here at the house. Except Ron wasn’t here to see Alex turn one. She will never remember him on her own. My grandsons are trying to understand death, heaven, what it means when a person is gone from their lives. Both were extremely close to Ron. They know something has changed but haven’t quite grasped what it means.
I am trying to do what is normal, what we have always done. I attended a Christmas potluck at Studio 1219 where we both have our photography, have been members for years and have done a lot of volunteering. I was fine when I arrived, until I walked into the room where everyone was, all those familiar faces, and had to take a couple deep breaths to get control of my emotions.
Tonight I am going to the Christmas party / meeting of the Blue Water Shutterbug Camera Club, another organization Ron and I have both been heavily involved in for the past eleven years. I am closer to this group of people than to those at the studio. It is a fun group. Hopefully I can keep a grasp on myself and get through tonight without a problem.
So I got to work. I try to remember to do things here at home, such as bring in and open mail, that were always handled by Ron. I make calls to notify life insurance, pension, and others of his death. I wrote his obituary. I prepare for the Celebration of Life that will be held in March.
I go through the motions of life, but inside I feel numb, empty, lonely. It is a process. An adjustment.