Every time I meet with my attorney about all of the business of death, I think it will be the last time. But it never is. It seems to continue on and on, paper after paper, signature after signature...mail some forms...wait a while...mail some forms...wait some more.
I find it strange to see on paper all the words referring to me:
"Spouse of the deceased"
I just really don't want to be those things any more.
Tired from lack of sleep, feeling impatient about a number of things, angry at Rick for leaving me with the burdensome task of dealing with the mess he left behind, and frustrated with my disorganized attorney, I made a pit stop at my parents' house before going home to have a small cry.
It was the sort of cry I scheduled into my evening so I could have it over with and move on. It was the kind of cry that starts out as a reaction to one tiny little thing and becomes about everything.
Why couldn't Rick have had life insurance?
Why can't my attorney even get my address correct?
Will I ever be done with this paperwork?
What if someone is interested in buying my house and I don't want to leave yet?
But also...what if no one is ever interested?
Who will feed my cats while I'm away at Lindy's wedding in May since my parents are also away that weekend?
It's spring now and the slope in my backyard is too steep for me - who will mow my lawn?
When can I really relax and just enjoy feeling good?
Will I ever get the things I desperately want?
Why do I have to be the girl carrying the baggage of a husband who shot himself in the head when all I want to be is free?
And why do I have to cry alone without anyone to hold me?
And then, just like that, I end the cry. I remind myself of all the wonderful things in my life. I remind myself I will be okay. Patience, Arielle, patience. I remind myself the light is coming.