Well, I guess I have lost some of my marbles lately. I counted on the calendar, and today marks 13 weeks since Connie passed away. Yet tomorrow, the 11th will mark 3 months since she passed away. Used to be that there were 4 weeks to a month, but now, apparently, there are 13 weeks and 1 day in three months instead of 12 weeks.
Does not compute....
Before she passed away, she made me promise that I wouldn't do anything "drastic" until 3 months had passed after she died. So come Monday, I am free of that promise. Problem is, I don't have the faintest idea of anything "drastic" that I would feel like doing. At the time, I was talking about selling the house and property and just going gypsy or something to escape all the memories that are lurking to pounce on me at unexpected and random times. But I soon realized that all of the memories are really in my head, and they will follow me where ever I go, no matter what I do. The only solidity I have in my life right now IS my home. I don't think it would be wise for me to throw that away.
I would like to say I am getting used to this, but that would be a lie.
I remember once reading something by William Shatner where his third wife had died on him and he said he cried for three days over it. At the time, I thought that had to have been a tragic event for him. But heck, now, I think, damn, he sure was cold hearted to have cried for only THREE DAYS.
Even now, three months later, I can be walking around the house or the yard doing anything when some memory will hit me and pretty much take me to my knees in tears. No warning, no escaping it.
I sure hate to think that this might be how the entire rest of my life is going to be like.