How does one possibly write about the death of one's beloved son-in-law? I have no idea, but will go with my flow of consciousness, as the grief washes over me with a different strength day and night.
Sleep is elusive or a nap can last 18 hours, only to be awakened by a frantic cat standing on my head, purring loudly and puling my hair, or a worried 8 year old lifting the covers to kiss my cheek. Those loving kisses, evoking burning tears, and a grateful heart. Going about chores that must be done, brings an awareness of looking down on my every move. Sentences are difficult to finish, and I am a stranger in my own presence. Kind hands touch my arm, as friends ask how I am, how my daughter and grandsons are doing, and offer anything they can do to help. I am pretty sure Anne, Jared and Marshall are experiencing much the same, yet even more profoundly. Anne is moving along, between bouts of tears. She has purchased a new home, the old one on the market, finances are cared for, she appears at her office. She cares passionately about David's mother's recovery from this loss, too. All in the same way, I wake, take Teddy to the bus, and do errands. Time stops for no one. Somehow we just fit it all in with the need to cry, gaze at a sky, or ocean and go on. David would want it that way.
My dreams and awake times are filled with his voice, his face, and especially his laugh - that insane laugh that made everyone else laugh, too. Our political discussions, his always caring voice when we spoke. I was a very lucky mother-in-law.
Just after returning from Florida to be with Anne and family, I took my long awaited trip to Colorado to visit my sister for 10 days. Recovery began amidst the amazing beauty of the Rockies in Fall.
I will share it when I can.
