Iconoclastic Fury

August 8, 2012

100 days

Filed under: Uncategorized — by telechick @ 3:05 pm

Tomorrow marks 100 days since Corey died.  Presidents get 100 days to wow the nation and to prove they’ve got what it takes. I’m not sure how my first 100 days in the office of “widow” stack up.  Granted, I have an entire lifetime in this position now, not just 4-8 yrs.

I have accomplished a lot: I’ve moved; I’ve got our dream home almost ready to go on the market; I’ve sold or given away a lot of our junk; I’ve dealt with much (but by no means all) of the bureaucracy that surrounds death in the US – including getting my $255 survivor benefit from social security (not sure who came up with that amount); I’ve travelled 3 times without Corey, including an overseas trip to the UK where we were together exactly a year ago when everything seemed so good; I’ve planned a Christmas trip with my mother as a way to get through the holidays; I am slowly churning my way through the process of shutting down our company and finishing up outstanding contracts; I’ve begun exercising again; my puppy and I passed basic obedience. 

Not a bad list of accomplishments in 100 days, but at the same time I feel like I’m just going through the motions.  I am a stubborn perfectionist, so losing my shit and not plowing headfirst through my miles long to do list was never an option for me. Failure is not an option.  Corey had been sick or not really present in our life for the past 2 years, so in many ways functioning completely on my own isn’t anything different for me; but it is because now there is never the hope that the old Corey will surface even for a few hours to make dealing with all of the crap on my own worthwhile. Now it’s just crap I must deal with for the reward of not going to jail or not starving to death. Not the same at all.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not grieving enough, even though Corey’s absence is my constant shadow.  I can’t count how many times a day in the middle of some mundane task I will stop and mentally shake my head at the fact that Corey is dead, gone, never coming back, not just at the hospital waiting impatiently for me to visit. Intellectually I’m well aware of this, but emotionally it still delivers a hefty punch several times a day.

100 days in an office I never hoped to hold.

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