Tonight, my friend Sarah came over to spend time with me. She brought me an amazing Mexican dinner (my favorite) and a bunch of groceries! It's amazing the relief I felt knowing I didn't have to go to the grocery store for a while yet.
She even bought me toilet paper and new toys for the cats. What a friend.
Here I sit, mentally preparing for yet another day tomorrow without Rick, and all I can think about is TV. With Rick gone, I feel like I have so many questions. Do I keep watching the shows he liked but I only tolerated just because they're already set to record? How could he just leave this world without ever knowing what happens on the new season of 24? And what about Downton Abbey? He died with the storyline just hanging unfinished in his mind.
But the biggest thing I keep wondering is what to do with the PGA Tour Golf that's saved in my DVR. He recorded it both the day before he died and the day he died. And he never watched it...
It feels so wrong and painful to just click it and hit "delete." I can't bring myself to do it. No matter how many times I look at it, I can't bring myself to do it. I think I've decided that I'll play some of it every night just during the time I write this blog. It can be my backdrop, my background noise, my company. There's 7.5 hours of golf on my DVR, so it should take me a while to get through all of it in small chunks. I want to be able to feel like I didn't just delete it. I want to be able to say, "Okay, Rick, we watched your golf."
TV presents so many little problems.
I'm afraid to watch movies or shows that could have a theme of suicide... What if I don't know it's coming? Do I alter my TV watching habits to be safe? Do I face it head on and take it as it comes?
For now, I continue to put the remote back on his side of the end table that is between our two chairs in the living room. It doesn't feel right next to me. I change the channel and give it back to him, just like I always did. It's more than a habit... it's a reflex.
Just like my love for him.
It is very early still my love, though I'm sure this feels like an age and a brief horrid moment in time simultaneously. You dont HAVE TO do anything. You are writing your own rules to this. Its what gets you through. There is a lady I have on my facebook who died some time ago - I havent deleted her account yet even though its painful when her name flashes up when Im typing something else. When Lee died I had a voicemail of his for about three years before I deleted it. These things are hard - perhaps because the shock of loss, slowly integrates into normality and thats terrifying and heart breaking. I am thinking of you always my love and Im right here - anytime <3 xxx
ReplyDeleteArielle, your strength and honesty continues to amaze me. I know it doesn't help anything to hear how amazing you are, and what an inspiring, astounding woman you are, but I wanted to tell you anyway.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you have your friends around you shoring you up, and I have seen the overflow of support for you on Facebook - so many of us want to help in any way we can, so if there is anything at all, please ask.
In the meantime, I will keep reading your beautiful words and feeing honoured that you are choosing to share this process, again displaying what a light you are in the world. I feel lucky to know you.
Keep putting one foot in front of the other, one word after the one before. Know that I'm thinking of you every day and sending you all my love xxx
My impulse is to give you a solution to this to ease your pain but try as I might I cannot find one. There is no 'right way' to do things. Your brain will try and put some order or sense to this and there is none; so let your heart tell you what to do. If you start watching something and your heart lurches and you feel too unsteady, switch the TV off for now. And don't worry, Rick will know what happens in 24 and Downtown because you carry a part of him in your heart and you will continue to share your experiences with him in that way forever.
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