I rearranged my living room today. I moved a desk by myself. It's in the garage. I moved my couch to a different wall. Part of being a widow must be superhuman strength. I got rid of a chair. I got rid of lamps. I cleared out DVDs and CDs and re-centered everything. It all looks different. There is a different feeling to it.
I've been listening to music a lot more when I'm home. Usually, I play music when I drive. Or when I run. But not much at home. Now...I play music when I get ready for work in the morning. I play music when I feed the cats and give them their bagged fluids. I play music when I'm home at night, making dinner. I play music when I take a shower. It's starting to change the feeling of my house.
I like it.
I've started choosing music over television to fill the emptiness that seems to exist here. I feel like I can relax. I had been using TV to block the thoughts that worried me, scared me, saddened me, and upset me. A distraction.
But with music, I can let the thoughts come and not be afraid. I can let the music carry me where it wants to and let my mind ebb and flow and go where it will.
Television cannot hold me, but music can. If I cry during TV, it's an interruption. But if I cry during music, it's part of the process.
Now that my house is rearranged, I imagine the music airing out my house, slowly lifting the sorrow and the past into invisible clouds that dissolve near the ceiling or slip out the windows. The memories of Rick have not vanished, but the heaviness is lifting... the grief is clearing...
The Grief Zone is getting a makeover.