It seems like I am doing okay. I can almost convince myself that I won’t need the grief support group by the time September finally gets here. But I am fooling myself. I know that I’ve just pushed aside my feelings to deal with the here and now.
The thing is that there is just so much going on. Getting laid off from work forces me to get things in order sooner. So I am working to cross things off of my list of “Things to do.” Currently, that mode is working for me. It has brought on a new efficiency.
I posted the desk for sale on an online bulletin board, set things in motion for selling the motorcycle, and I donated the truck to charity. I am a little sad, but also relieved that these things are finally getting done. It feels like it is time. But I realize that I am not ready to tackle everything.
I ventured into Tom’s closet again today. I am finding that I am still attached to each of the remaining items of clothing. There was the shirt that I bought him just before things went bad, the blue sweater that made his eyes appear even more brilliant, and the jacket that the boys got him for Christmas. It’s going to be hard to part with these things. So, I’ll let it wait until later (or until never).
My running has never been just another thing to do on my list, but the efficiency mode is affecting this area too. I continue to look ahead to the weekends, and modify my running schedule to accommodate the kids’ plans. It is just part of the package. With the long runs getting longer and the hard runs getting harder, I don’t want to just fit my runs in between dinner and the dishes. The timing needs to work.
Today I stayed home from work in order to watch the truck leave the house. That was the plan but by the time lunch rolled around, I realized how silly it was to have to *see* the truck off. It wasn’t like it was going to give me one last good-bye.
But since it took me a while to get unstuck I was able to run in the morning. The cool morning air, and the near-empty track were a wonderful treat. Although my mind wasn’t ready to part with the truck, it was ready for a good hard run.
I was determined to hit the paces that Coach noted in the schedule. I ran hard, and whenever my mind began to wander to things that have been troubling me, I pushed off the thoughts and told myself to focus on the moment at hand. I demanded of myself to be in the here and now.
It worked. I am proud to say that my 800s were so close to the given pace that I chalked it up as success. I gave myself a pat on the back (even emailed Coach), and got ready for work.
Driving away I glanced at the little red truck in the driveway, knowing that it would be gone when I returned. In that moment, in *that* here and now, I was sad. I cried all the way to work.
There are so many things I want to say, but as you mentioned before I don’t know if it will come out just right.
So congrats on taking each step, congrats on a great run and good luck.
Sounds like some great progress!! Sorry about the truck having to go. :<( (((HUGS)))
Letting go of the things that belonged to someone we love but lost is hard. Those things represent the person. I know it was hard for you to let that truck go but you did it.
Hooray for running – the great escape.
Once again, your post mirrors thoughts that I have had a million times since Kruex passed. Anything that I ever bought, or that was on his body is just not something that I am ready to part with yet. Taking the crib down has been enough so far…I suppose his crib and Tom’s truck kind of represent the same thing. Some things we have to let go of, and as far as I am concerned…the rest, we don’t. Huge hugs on a rough day.
You said it best, “The timing needs to work.” Keep smiling! :)
I’m reading blogs while I’m in the hotel lobby in Salina eating breakfast.
I’m having to work hard not to cry.
I agree with Lori, some things we know we have to let go of and some we know we should keep forever. Letting go of the truck is HUGE and you should be proud of how strong you are!
Maybe…maybe this is how it works. Maybe a bout of efficiency eases the task of moving forward. Maybe it’ll get you to a place, then you’ll pause and gather love and strength and grief again, and then another bout will come. Kind of a stutter-step movement forward. However it works, I’m glad it’s working for this moment.
You keep the things that really matter. The truck sounds like it will have a good home. Congrats on hitting your split times at the track.
I’m glad you’re signed up for a grief support group. Have you talked to anyone in the meantime? Most insurance benefits include some sort of employee assistance (I forgot what they call it.) I met a man and his wife in Santa Barbara last Spring and they were moving to your area. He’s an Ironman and also a minister. If you’d like his contact information, send me an e-mail. You can listen to his sermons online and decide if he’s someone you can trust. I’m not a church goer, but he wasn’t too heavy handed. I mentioned you to him when Tom was sick, but haven’t talked to him since.
here and now is the only place to be. good job on the 800s!