Comfort Measures

I think comfort is very important.

comfort (noun):
a state of ease and freedom from pain or constraint

My Top 10 Comforts:

1) Coffee
2) Tea
3) Lying in the sun
4) Handwritten notes
5) Reading a book in a hot bath
6) Listening to a music album over and over for weeks until I know it inside out
7) Shirley Temple movies
8) Almost any kind of soup
9) Clearly not all year long...but...Christmas music
10) Okay...obviously...it has to be said...........my cats

Unpredictability

It's been 126 days and I still haven't listened to the radio. I listen to music all the time...Hand-picked, carefully chosen music by those I trust or myself. Just not the radio. With the radio, you don't know what's coming. You don't know what the next song will be. You don't know what it will trigger, how emotional it will be, if it will be the right kind of emotion, if it will bring up a memory...

I haven't read a book in 126 days either. The only ones that feel safe are ones I have already read, because I know what's coming. I let friends tell me what would be ideal for me to read. They give me suggestions based off of what they've finished reading, knowing my circumstances and worries. But I haven't yet felt ready to read something new.

I also don't watch TV shows that could have some element that might hurt me in some way. There are some that are always safe - reality shows or sitcoms, for example. But then there are shows I follow, like cop shows or other dramas, that might deal with emotional situations. You just never know when the storyline will take a turn into territory that will hit too close to home. Death, loss of a spouse, suicide, gunshot to the head, etc. I'm not ready for that. My friends censor my shows for me. I watch the ones like Project Runway or Ellen that are perpetually safe, but friends who watch the same shows as I do give me a heads up before I push play on my DVR. Sometimes they say, "Don't watch this one at all." Sometimes they say, "Halfway through this week's episode, something happens that is hard, but it turns out okay." And then I know. And it feels safer. Other times, they let me know that something regarding a certain topic will occur and I can make the decision for myself. But the key is that I am not blindsided. Not caught off guard.

The same goes for movies. I haven't watched any new movies in 126 days that weren't animated Disney ones. I have watched some old movies, ones I've seen before... but the point of new movies is that you don't know what is going to happen. And that just doesn't feel safe right now.

It's funny how such things can come into play so strongly when the grieving process is running its course. It's the unknown, the fear of being caught unaware, that scares me most. If I knew I was watching a show where someone would die by suicide, I would actually feel more comfortable than if I just started watching it and suddenly the plot line took that turn.

It's the unpredictability that feels unmanageable. I need control over my listening, my reading, my watching... at least right now. I am not sure when that will change. But until it does, I appreciate all the people in my life who have my back, combing carefully through all the entertainment out there in order to protect me.

TV Thoughts

I made it to Friday. I made it to the end of my first work week.

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.