Longer stretches…

It seems I have less and less to say of late. That could be a good thing, or it could be a bad thing. I think good. I’ve definitely come to grips with this new life. That isn’t to say that I don’t miss Kim and that I don’t have occasional tears over her – that is definitely not the case. But I think I have adjusted to it. I no longer fear it. And I’m sort of looking forward to what the future may bring.

I’ve been working alone since Jillian graduated high school. Initially, it was kind of sad – I had gotten used to the sounds of her remote learning classes and walking over to help her with her French and her Pre-Calc homework. But, in a short time: I got used to it being quiet. She still comes down and does things on the first floor, but it is usually later in the morning.

Up until a couple of weekends ago, Jeanette, Jillian, and Vanessa would have been off to pageants, and Kenny would go to work. Normally, I would get up, get ready for the day, and then go off to my mom’s for a visit – escaping the empty house. A couple of weekends ago, though, something went wrong at work, and I had to fix it and ended up spending the day home alone. It didn’t kill me. And I discovered that I was actually quite comfortable with it.

I’ve adjusted; I continue to adjust.

As I wrote to a brother in the Widowers Support Network: Strength will come. Your emotions will be hardened in the forge of grief. Crying is part of that forging. That seems to be the case. Maybe I’m emerging from the deeper parts of the furnace.

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