Perfect storm
I was home sick Tuesday, having been slammed with something as Monday wore on that I still can’t explain, and still is not gone. I grew more and more weak, and felt drained and exhausted, and by 7 o’ clock, every muscle fiber in my body ached, as did my skin and hair. I took a hot shower and dragged myself off to bed, endeavoring to move as little as possible. I had a little soup at 9:30, and then it was back to bed for the duration. I woke up Tuesday morning feeling less achey, but still weak, and called in sick, spending most of the day in bed.
I don’t know if feeling ill made me more emotionally vulnerable, but I missed A something fierce, more palpably than I do most days now. Talking to E, I mentioned A and found myself getting choked up. And as I lay in bed, my thoughts kept returning to A, and my heart hurt for missing him. It is bizarre to me that his being gone is still so bizarre to me. There are moments when I cannot come to terms with this reality that is none other than my own. They pass, but I still shake my head and wonder where the hell he’s gone to, and how it can be that he has left me. I don’t really know what to do with that, other than breathe through the moment, because 99% of the time I’m quite clear on the what, and the fact that the “why” is not mine to know.
I felt strong enough by evening to attend the dress rehearsal of a friend’s show choir. They did their competition set twice to begin with, and finished the performance with a third round of it. The second song they did was not one I needed to hear 3 times in a day, not that day, anyway. I learned when I looked it up that it was by Irving Berlin; A was a fan, I thought, though I might be confusing him with Gershwin. The fact that Berlin wrote it upon being widowed was a surprise to me as well; I suspected it was just a break-up song. Huh. Perhaps there really are no coincidences.
Off to my right and a few rows ahead during the performance was a man who bore a striking resemblance to my sweetheart. His chin was weaker, but nonetheless, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. It’s been some time since a stranger caught my attention in that way. But he was not my handsome A, and seeing this man just made my heart ache a little more for my sweetie.
I constantly remind myself that I only have to live one day at a time. I have to, otherwise the rest of my life without him looms too oppressively in mind and threatens to crush me.