I don’t sit alone very often. I could tell you it’s because I have 3 kids at home that I’m a solo parent to, but I think I’d be lying.
The real reason I don’t sit alone is because I don’t like to, and I don’t want to.
Friday night, I found myself sitting outside on my patio alone. My youngest contracted Covid and was isolated in his bedroom. The older 2 were on their device of choice (video games) in their own corners of the house. I didn’t want to risk seeing anyone outside of my household, so there I sat. Alone.
I turned on some music, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat under the fan. I tried to will myself to sit with the aloneness. Feel what needed feeling. But nothing rose to the surface. Grief refused to rouse itself for the occasion. It allowed me to just be alone. Being alone on a Friday night doesn’t have to equal a big griefy sandwich of bleh. I think I sort of assumed it would.
But grief doesn’t really do what you want it to do or what you expect it to do.
Grief prefers to be more like a pop-up shop, there and gone in a blink of an eye. I have completed the first year of firsts without Tony. I know they will continue to happen as the years go by but with less frequency than that first year. So outside of the major milestones like our birthdays and anniversary, it seems to be the small things that get me.
On Sunday, I was gobsmacked at the pharmacy. I went to pick up my son’s ADHD medication for the start of school next week. It’s the first time I’ve had to fill it since our health insurance changed from Tony’s to mine. I always knew his was far superior to what mine offered. When they told me the medication was almost 5 times more than we paid before, I sat there in disbelief. Eventually I paid for it and pulled away. Then I parked the car, cried a few tears, said a few what the….and continued with my day.
These are the small events that take up most of my grief space these days. These small quakes in life that make me remember how different my life is now. That make me wonder how we got here all over again. In general, they go as quickly as they come. They don’t ruin my whole day; they take up the space that needs taking and then I release it. I still don’t want to sit alone on a Friday night, but I don’t have to be afraid of it.
