As I scrolled through my emails this morning, I was irritated to see a notification that my credit card had automatically been charged by Word Press for my blog page.  I decided that I would find a way to go in and change the settings so I had to be asked before renewing my page because after all, I just haven’t been using it.  I’m not sure what compelled me to go actually look at my one and only effort at an opening blog page, but compelled I was.  I was in shock to see that it was EXACTLY one year ago today that I wrote my first blog.  I feel like there was a very strong message in this.

You see, so much has happened in this year period.  The most significant of all was that my husband passed away four months ago…to make a long story short.  When my brother passed away during my childhood, I turned to writing to help deal with the angst, the uncertainties, the sadness.  After Gary passed, I tried to start journaling in the traditional format with pen and paper, but it just wasn’t happening for me.  I was just thinking yesterday about maybe turning to poetry again as that was also part of my grief therapy those many years ago.  And now.  This morning.  This journal presents itself to me.  I just love those coincidences…that aren’t really coincidences.

“In shock” is so very appropriate for this first post because not only was I in shock at this mornings “coincidence”, I am still just reeling from the massive life change that slapped our family around since my first post here.  While I was married to Gary for 23 years, we’d been together as a couple for 27 years and he has been an essential part of my life for 29 years… because he was my employer before we became involved.  My job was as his “executive assistant” which meant my world started revolving around his the first day I came to work in June of 1988.  Take that person out of the equation after nearly three decades together and tell me I never get to see him again…well, it just puts your world into emotional upheaval.  Of course, the same is true for his daughters, but it is different for each of us.  We each had our own relationship with him.  We are all severely stung.  I feel for each of the girls, and for the grand kids.  I was able to know my grandparents until the first one passed when I was 18.  I’d made it to adulthood before losing the first.  I’m so sorry for his grand kids that they don’t have him longer.  I’m sorry for his daughters that they don’t have him longer.  I’m sorry that two of his girls will not be walked down the aisle by him.  I’m sorry for myself.  I’m sorry for the industry for which he had so much passion because he made a difference in it.

I know we will move forward and life will go on.  It already is.  It has a way of doing that.  I can smile and laugh and feel oppressive sadness and lack of focus all in the same day.  Multiple times a day.  I will sometimes call his phone just to hear his voicemail recording.  That, above, is among the many definitions of grief.  I guess that’s just the way I will be rolling for the foreseeable future.  Many days I just don’t want to do anything.  It’s really hard to get motivated to do what needs doing, but I try and forgive myself for those feelings.  All of those feelings.  Including the happiness feelings.  I feel sometimes like I shouldn’t be happy, but I know that’s not right.  Maybe a little blogging activity is just what I need.  I’m guessing that’s why “Journaling Out Loud” was presented to me again THIS morning.  Here we go…