First Steps

Rick, my husband of 47 years. died a week ago tonight. I have always found solace in writing so I decided to start a blog to record my journey into widowhood. It took me longer than I expected to set up this blog spot, so I'll keep my entry short tonight. Last Wednesday morning (the morning following the memorial service), I took my cup of coffee and went to the back porch to drink it. Others were stirring in the house, but I was alone. Oh, I felt so alone. The phrase, "This is the first day of the rest of your life," jumped into my mind and I realized how truly fitting those words were. The rest of my life is ahead of me and it is going to be so different without Rick. I can't imagine that I will spend the rest of my tomorrows without him. People ask me how I'm doing. I don't know. How am I doing? I do know that I would probably be doing a lot better if I weren't battling a case of acute bronchitis. Surely, it will start to get better soon. I did have one real rough spot this afternoon. Rick had been in the hospital since April 9. For the last six weeks, I did only those domestic tasks that were absolutely necessary for survival so that I could spend most of my time at the hospital with him. Today I started sorting piles of laundry. I was in the midst of doing his laundry when he had his heart attack. His unwashed clothes were returned to the laundry basket and put into the closet until today. I came across them this afternoon--his dirty laundry. The shirts and trousers smelled of him. They held the essence of him. I can't wash them yet. It's like I'll be washing him away forever and never again will smell his special smell. There is so much more I want to say, but I am going to close and try to get a good night's sleep. Busy day tomorrow. Granddaughter's orchestra concert followed by grandson's birthday party. Life is moving on and I'll be moving along with it.