Losing time
I got paid Friday, and for the first time in over 5 months I am finally out of the red for vacation time. I hardly took any time off when A passed, because I didn’t have it. I was at work the day I found out, and made it until lunch and then took the afternoon off. I was in shock, in any case. I shortened up a few days here and there when it was just too much for me; took the day of his memorial service off, because facing work on top of facing the fact that I’d been left out of the memorial was just too much to bear. I think I took one more day off, the day I was supposed to be leaving to visit him at the end of July, and other than that, I’ve gritted my teeth, come into the office, and cried at my desk when I could do so quietly, and in the bathroom when I could not, as I needed to. There were days I did nothing but stare into space, read old e-mails, and cry, but I had my butt in my chair, appearances were upheld, and somehow, I don’t know how, I managed to survive.
Between the time off I took because of grief, the 2 scheduled days I took for my cousin’s wedding in August, and the unexpected time off I had to take off when E had his surgery at the end of August, I was way in the hole for vacation time. I haven’t been able to take a mental health day even when I really, really needed one, since two weeks after he died, and even then, it wasn’t a matter of mental health; it was a matter of tenuous mental stability. And I’ve been paying for it, paying off the vacation and sick time debts, ever since. It seems extra unfair to have lost my sweetie, to have been worried sick about E’s surgery, and still be dealing with the stupid practicalities of work that allowed me no flexibility with time 5 months later.
I had wondered if, or when, I’d stop counting the time since he died by weeks, and it seems to have happened around the four-month mark. I had to stop and count how many weeks it’s been: 23. I scrolled back in Outlook on my computer, and the closer I got to July 15th, the tighter it felt in my chest, until I found the day marked with his name, and then the tightness exploded and spread through my body as if I’d been punched in the solar plexus. As if I’d actually gone back in time as the days scrolled by on my screen, hurtling toward the day my life changed forever, and I was plunged into a place I hadn’t even known existed, a place I would never want to be, nor wish on another.
I am 99% sure I will be attending the tribute concert outing in February organized by his sister. I have my own plans for the day, though. At this point, my plan is to fly early into the airport I always flew to when I visited him, rent a car, and drive out to the state park where they scattered his ashes. His friend told me clearly enough where they stopped to do it, and I think I should be able to find it. That same friend also offered to bring me out there when he told me about the day, if I was ever there and had enough time to go. But I think I need to go alone. First, I am clearly meant to mourn him on my own, and not in the bosom of his friends and family. If it should’ve been otherwise, it would’ve been, and I would’ve been there for the memorial and for the scattering of his ashes the Sunday after Thanksgiving. And secondly, I don’t think I can do that to his friend. His friend is a dear, sweet man who, along with his wife, has been kind to me. If just scrolling back through a calendar brings me right back to that moment of the worst pain of my life, how can I ask him to go back to the day they scattered his ashes 3 months after the fact? I can’t drag him back to something that’s already almost a month in his rear view now. It was enough that he offered, I think. I appreciated it.
I saw that when I went to visit them all. For me, that meeting WAS the memorial that had been on hold for me. For them, it was two months after the fact, and they were in a different place than I was, and so it has been all along. When I wanted to go by his shop and apartment, I thought it was awkward for his friends who brought me, because they lived there and had been in and out of his shop and his place in the intervening time, trying to clear things out and settle his estate. I didn’t have that opportunity.
They have each other, and have made whatever progress through their grief they have been able to. I haven’t had the same support (or what I imagine is support—perhaps I’m wrong), the support of people who knew him intimately in various ways, and have made whatever progress through my grief I’ve been able to, independently. That’s the way it seems it must be, so I will drive myself to that place and have my moment in a place he had wanted to take me, without worrying about anyone else being uncomfortable or checking their watches, and then I will join them in the evening for the show.
I thought about not going. I really did, and had all but decided to bail. Why? Because I obviously wasn’t a part of that group, and wasn’t going to be. Because it seemed a long way to go and a lot of money to spend to be among people who’d just as soon I wasn’t there. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know; I just know how it’s felt. But I’ve decided that they are doing the best they can, just as I am. They don’t understand what he and I had together, how much we loved each other. And how could they? I’ve decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, because I know they are not bad people. They’re just making this up as they go along, as I am. And I will go, because this concert is what they could offer me, and while it might not be everything I want, I appreciate it all the same. And I will go because I belong at any tribute to the man I loved. I have a right to be there. And so shall I be.