It's been an odd month. Between September and November, we go through a series of significant dates related to Ramsy's loss. September is the month in which I had to admit him to the hospital, arranged for equipment and home care so I could bring him back home, got him home to rest, and then faced his death. October marks the funeral and burial, his birthday, the time when we first noticed that something was wrong with him, and his resignation from his job with the intent to move to Saskatoon. November is the month of his first seizure, the trip to the ER, the news that he had a brain tumor, the biopsy and diagnosis of terminal cancer, the switch to a new world of Cancer Care and oncologists and radiation and chemo and blood tests. It's a bit of a time warp, a reverse of the usual beginning-to-end procession of time. It's a revisitation of some of the fear and uncertainty of that time. It's a looking back on those events as if I am watching a movie where I know the dreadful ending before the characters do. I was not expecting it to hit me so hard this year, but it did. I've spent a lot of time thinking and processing and realizing this month. I've spent a lot of evenings up later than usual, either talking it over with friends or writing out my thoughts. I have not needed that amount of introspection in quite a long time, but I feel okay with it and know it will pass when it has done its work.
Out of all the swirling thoughts and memories, I caught myself thinking this: someday I will regain my equilibrium. There are still days when I feel off-balance, mildly confused or forgetful, like things are falling off my plate and I'm not even seeing it. There is still such a steep learning curve as I cope with the house and kids and vehicle and finances and social situations and work and holidays and all of it instead of sharing the responsibility of it all. I am more used to it, to be sure, but I am also seeing the cumulative effects of the absence of one of the two people-in-charge.
When I recognized my own thoughts the other day, that wish for things to get back into balance, I realized that I meant that I hope things will get back to the way they used to be. And I had to begin to come to grips with the fact that this is never going to happen, ever. Yes, we are managing and even thriving in some ways without Ramsy here. But our household and our lives will never again be exactly as they used to be. That's a hard pill to get down. It's so uncomfortable to be continually off-balance. I think it will be a truth I run up against many times, each time surprised that I am still thinking my life might take on its old form again.
But there are good things, too, about the new form. I am continually grateful for my work- the way it challenges me and engages me, the way my colleagues make me laugh every single day and encourage me and have come to be my friends. I'm thankful for old friends who keep checking in with me, and for newer ones who help ease the way. For teenage kids who are still willing to be seen walking with me in public and who notice when I'm overwhelmed and pitch in a little more. For a trustworthy mechanic. You all keep me from falling off the high wire.
