First Entry AD

Writing a blog about past journal entries and reflections upon reading them later might seem a bit strange, but I picked up the journal this morning for the first time since I started writing it and it was so interesting to step back in time and peek in the window of my past.

I begin with the first journal entry after my husband's death five years ago.

Monday, 7 days AD
Yesterday I was quiet enough to realize that Jimmy is walking right with me. He'll be there every step I take. That gave me some calmness.
Scott and I threw away some stuff and organized some other stuff. We watched a stupid movie. I finally slept without a pill and without daylight.
Don called. He was very sweet. Told me that the visitation was really nice and that I did good. I really needed that.

That's it. Weird to find out that I'd not slept well. I thought I'd slept fine ... surprisingly fine. I remember crying while laying down, holding my dog Lena. She was quite tender, letting me hold her close for hours without so much as a wiggle. Amazing the senses of our animals.

I remember no calmness only oranges, tears, and shock. I was talking with my daughter today about finding the journal and as we discussed that time, she offered her perception of me at the funeral as having been so together as I related stories and introduced people.

My memory of the funeral was crying ... endless crying. I had no idea that anyone could have thought I had it together.

I shared with her how I didn't know what to do at the funeral home. I was looking to others for ideas, but no one stepped up and took over, so I just kept moving forward. I chose a visitation so that Jim's many friends would have closure. His death was so sudden that I knew without a formal goodbye, many would have trouble believing it to be true, including his sons.

Christi (my daughter) gave me a gift today. She told me that all of my actions, that she observed that day, were clearly successful in making that it about friends and family. (And here I'd thought I'd just cried!)

It's a shame that Jim's brother Don hasn't called or spoken to me since that day. I don't know why. I think I called once, but that was it.

Jim's mother said many hurtful things in the beginning, but I continued to share things with her as I went about the business of grieving. After a bit I quit calling her. It took quite awhile, but then I decided it didn't seem worth it to try to maintain a relationship only to have her say & do hateful things.

Jim's youngest son stays in touch regularly and keeps me up-to-date on everything that's going on in the 'O' clan.