Tag Archives: this sucks

Stronger

It’s been 5 years, 5 months, and 14 days since Prince Charming left this Earth.

I’ve tried to be brave, be strong, to carry on . . . even when I didn’t know WTF I was doing, even when I didn’t WANT to carry on.

I buried him.  And I had no idea what kind of service he wanted.

I settled his estate.  I handled a wrongful death claim.  I dealt with the Bureau of Worker Compensation, a whole bunch of insurance agencies, and some other silly government stuff that I don’t really remember.

I bought a new car.  I bought a new washer.  I planned for a major remodeling project for The Little House.  I had a new driveway installed.  I dealt with the daily stuff of living in a 90-something year old house.

I did yard work . . . winter and summer . . . even though I hate it.

Everyone told me it would get “easier”.  That I would eventually “feel better”.  Life wasn’t always going to “suck”.  I called bullshit on all of that . . . it’s still hard,  it still hurts, it still sucks.

Mostly I went through the motions of doing “stuff” so people wouldn’t worry about the “poor thing” wallowing in her widowhood . . .

Today I think I’ve turned a corner.  I still don’t know WTF I’m doing but I am starting to feel like whatever comes around I can handle it . . . because, surprisingly enough, I have been handling it all along.

And it started with a weed eater.  A string trimmer.  And spending some time edging the sidewalk in front of the house.

Sounds simple enough . . . but it’s really a massive accomplishment.  I’m a yard snob.  I like the yard to look “just so” but since Prince Charming has been gone I didn’t have the energy or desire to do the work necessary to have the yard look “just so” . . . so I didn’t do it.  Yes, the yard is cut and I did cut down the weeds but it was a half hearted effort.  The weed eater I had belonged to Prince Charming.  It was built for him . . . and he was a foot taller than me and weighed about a hundred pounds more than me.  It was big.  It was heavy.  It was hard for me to maneuver.  It was battery operated . . . and the batteries were wearing out.  That started a whole research project.  Buy batteries for the trimmer I have or buy a new trimmer?  Battery or corded?  Which brand?  How many amps?  What size cut?  It was enough to make a girls head spin.

I made a decision . . . it’s my yard and I need to be able to take care of it myself.  Buy what you want.  Buy what will work best for you.  So I bought a little 4.4 amp, 13 inch cut corded trimmer.  It’s the perfect size for me.  It works like a charm.  It was a birthday present to myself.  And I have been as excited as a little kid to get a new string trimmer as a birthday present.

So today I decided I wanted to use the trimmer and at least edge the front sidewalk and the driveway before I went to a family party.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  I had NO IDEA that edging the sidewalk could be so therapeutic.  I didn’t have to worry about the battery running out.  I did have to be careful about where the cord was so I didn’t cut it.  But for 30 minutes it was me and the trimmer cleaning up the messy front sidewalk.  It was heaven.  It’s not pretty.  It’s not perfect.  I need to clean up a few spots.  But it’s done.  It’s not half bad for a first attempt.  And I did it.  By my self.  Me.  The girl who still wants to stay in bed under the covers some days . . .

I still get mad at the universe that Prince Charming wasn’t here long enough.  But then I have days like today when I realize he was here long enough to help me realize that even though it sucks that he’s gone . . . I can do this stuff on my own . . . even when I don’t want to do it alone . . . even if I stomp my feet and curse every single step of the way.  And now I have the desire and energy to actually do the stuff I hate . . . and even look forward to it a bit . . .

Does this mean I’m getting a little stronger?  Does this mean it might not always suck this bad?  I’m always gonna miss him . . . but maybe it will actually get a little easier?

 

 

 

 

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Filed under coping, grief, PostADay, Prince Charming, Stuff