I was up at 6:30 despite having set the alarm for 7. The Saturday Bikram class starts at 8:30, so I can get up an hour later. As Elsa and I took our morning walk, I worked on my hips: I focused on opening the left hip for 10 steps by making sure I started my stride on the outside of my left foot and allowed the left hip to roll back while the right shoulder came forward and the left shoulder went back. Then I focused on the right hip for 10 steps by making sure I pushed the left shoulder forward and right hip back and over to the left.
After Bikram, I went to the bank to deposit those checks of Mike's that arrived after his death. I sat in the car to make out the deposit slip. I had my Raymond James checkbook rather than the First Hawaiian. Wrong. Well, I'll try again tomorrow.
I drove home, showered, did MELT, and used the Tiger Stick.
Last night I got an official document in the mail from a credit card company. In response to my asking to collect $24. 00 in bonus rewards, they sent me more official documents than any other company. They all but want a copy of the will written in blood. Found it very depressing. I already sent in the death certificate. My name is on it. Do they really need all this official stuff? It feels as if they are deliberating, making it hard for me, although I know without a doubt that is not what is going on. I ate 2 Hersey Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds in the middle of the day to comfort myself. Then I did a few endless rounds of FreeCell to comfort myself more. Amazing what can knock me off my center. I'm doing okay with Mike's death, but this business about having the correct forms to claim money owed to him is affecting me. Bizarre.
I eventually worked on two more blogs but only sent out one. I vacuumed and cleaned stains on the lanai rug in anticipation of having 10 people for dinner on Sunday. I also polished the glass on the coffee and end tables. I have recently discovered that just rubbing vigorously works better than cleaning with a liquid spray. I remembered hearing about women polishing the windows every Thursday when I was a child. Now, I get it. What a discovery. Not only does the glass get cleaner, but it also doesn't attract dust as quickly. I just vacuumed the kitchen floor. I figured it would be dirty again after Judy, Paulette, and Adam cooked dinner. No, I didn't feel I had to clean the house for my guests. Guests are the necessary motivation to get me to do it. It gives me a deadline. Thank God for guests.
When Elsa and I got home from our before dinner walk, I tried to finish one more entry and send it out. Sandor says I have to edit my whole blog before it can be sent out. Boo-hoo! I don't know how I'm going to feel rereading all the entries at this point. I will have to relive those painful moments with Mike in the hospital. I think I will want to read it someday. I have this incredible record of all that happened. I won't have to rely on my memory, which isn't much good after 2 or 3 days anyway.
Also, the blog is 250 pages long by this point. That is a lot of editing to be done. I signed up for the advanced Grammarly program for a year to help me out. This is going to be a piece of work. I don't yet have a name for the blog that makes sense. My problem is that it is not just about grief; the first five weeks of it, Mike is in the hospital very much alive. My year of magical thinking only starts after March 3 when he died.
I miss loving Mike. He was such a gracious recipient of my love for him. He never used my affectionate nature against me as some might, thinking that my love for him gave him power over me. He never pushed me away the way my mother did. I could be joyful with him and about him whenever I liked. This trait in him is irreplaceable. Even Elsa isn't that generous with me.
Two days ago, I talked about how Mike wasn't perfect. Should there be any question in anyone's mine, neither was I. What Mike and I did have was an intention to improve and be better for each other. We never deliberately hurt each other, and we always wanted what was best for each other. We had a deep trust in each other's intentions. But, there were some ways I wasn't all he wanted or needed. I was aware that I avoided looking into things Mike was interested in because I was afraid of triggering him into his teacher mode. He received a great deal of praise for his homilies. I didn't like them, not because of what he had to say but because he was saying it in his teacher mode
As I go through his books now, I feel sad that I didn't read more about Simone Weil while he was working on his thesis. I find myself now wondering why he never asked me to read what he wrote before he handed it in; I gave him everything I wrote for him to evaluate. I assumed he just thought he didn't need my help. Now, I wonder. If I had shown more interest, could we have developed a conversational style? I feel sad that I didn't get to know him better. I am learning things about him from other people. I am looking forward to reading about Simone Weil as well as his doctoral thesis on her and learning more about his thinking.
I am also looking forward to reading the book he completed on theology. I knew he had pretty much finished the book. I didn't know that he had already given it to 2 men from the diaconate to read. We all want to try to get it published so that all his work won't go to waste. I feel sad about all we could have learned about each other and experienced together as we got older. I think we both did the best we could; it just that death has cut off our progress. Boy, I loved him. And I loved getting to know him better, even if sometimes I found out things about him through other people. It was all interesting.
When I was in my twenties, I partnered a friend of mine in an audition. He had selected an excerpt from T.S. Elliott's play, The Cocktail Party. I learned two guiding insights from that play. One, Elliott says everyone is lonely; it is only that some people know it, and others don't. But the more valuable insight for me was his advice, "Always greet your loved ones as strangers every day." (At least this is how I recalled his words. I can't find that quote. What he did say is, "We must also remember that at every meeting, we are meeting a stranger.") He didn't mean be cold and standoffish. He meant to know that your loved one is always like a stranger in the sense that you don't fully know them because the human psyche is so deep. There is always more to discover. Hopefully, there are no dramatic surprises, like dishonesty, but only the endless opportunities to experience life through the lens of another's perspective.
I ate my dinner in front of the T.V., I didn't catalog any books tonight. I was still recovering from my down feeling about that clerical work. Can you imagine? Asking for all this proof over $24. Is it worth it for either of us?
I walked Elsa, washed my face, brushed my teeth, went to bed, and then said, "Goodnight, Elsa. Goodnight, Mike."
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