It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning. Mornings used to be a favorite time of ours. She’d wake up with a smile and spring out of bed, pestering me with some master plan for the day’s activities. We’d shower together and discuss her plan and how I fit in (or didn’t!) Then, I’d watch her prance from bathroom to closet to bedroom to kitchen, like a beautiful, untamed mare always at a trot. It was a sight to behold. Easy on the eyes, ears, head and heart.
Now I feel like someone snuck into my life and tied weights to my arms and legs. They’ve also put in contacts that dull the colors and drugged me with an elixir that keeps my eyelids heavy. The puppies don’t seem to mind my recent attachment to the bed and are quick to show horizontal solidarity.
The weights on my limbs grow heavier with inactivity but once I add motion (the first is always the hardest), the weight seems to fade. The key is to keep moving, it seems.
I don’t particularly want to be alone but, paradoxically, I don’t want to talk to anyone either. Worse, when I do talk, the need to talk about Maggie tends to be overwhelming. Every subject, every sentence, every everything that I see, hear, or do ties back to a poignant memory of my wonderful wife. Since it’s been a whole 11 days and 3 hours since her death, I’ve learned some self-control and can temper the need to talk about her or at least dampen the urgency of what I have to say. It would be all too easy for me to sound like Eddie Izzard‘s reflections on the origins of Church of England sermons*:
Eddie Izzard (poorly reflected here. Watch the video):
“The reading today is from … a magazine I found in a bush. Apparently, pink lipsticks are all the rage right now … and … uh … er… This reminds me of our Lord Jesus Christ!”
“Ah, the swine flu is killing many, many people. This reminds me of Maggie because….”
“Yes, I’ve heard that they are increasing interest rates. Speaking of interest rates, Maggie once said…”
“Oh, your car broke down. Maggie once had a car….”
“Wow, I’ve never seen someone shoot milk quite that far out of their nose. Fascinatingly, Maggie liked milk….”
“Sorry your goldfish has herpes. Did you know Maggie had….” (No, Maggie did not have herpes, you freak.)
* If you don’t know Eddie Izzard, go rent this video tonight. I promise you’ll be in stitches.
Speaking of comedians, last night I went out to a comedy show with friends. It was good to laugh. Maggie liked to laugh….