Be Unafraid - Traversing life and notes to myself

 July 25, 2022

Broken lawn mowers, cars that won't start, figuring out 2-cycle engines and their fuel type, roof stuff, bills from your now deceased husband's hospital stay, etc. Ordinarily, these types of things would be handled by "us". Now it's all Me. 

When moments have you down and you feel broken, cry. Do it. 

Notes and advice to myself - Mel baring it all.

I have had weird "cry moments", weird what in the world am I doing? Weird, what am I going to do? What SHOULD I do moments. Stepping out of the shower while a song is playing that just touches me. Boom, waterworks. Driving down the road and seeing random stuff, crying out of the blue. Eating dinner while watching a silly video, reaching for my phone to share a funny with him and pause. Oh, can't do that, he's not here anymore. Fuck. 

Just, <sigh>. 

Time, don't wipe your memory off my lips...Desmond Child - Obsession. 

I don't want to lose memories or thoughts or feelings from "before". I'm learning it's okay to fall apart, so long as I pick myself back up again and dust off, however cliche' that that may be. I'm learning it's okay to cry, it doesn't mean I'm weak. It means I feel, I'm human, I'm a mess...

This whole thing is a map I've never seen before except from afar. It has switchbacks I've never wanted to try but now am being forced to drive UP and through, pretty much with blinders on. One inch at a time, one curve at a time. Straining to peer around the bend as it were to see what's ahead. Most of the time, I can't see around the curves or the bends or over the hills. I try to look back and remember and yearn for those easier times, those easier roads. 

Sit back, girl. Fasten your seatbelt. Breathe.

Breathe again - in and out. Feel the emotions, see them for what they are. Loosen your grip on that steering wheel. Let that sweat dry. Keep driving, keep walking, it's okay if you fall and have a moment. This whole grief thing is different for everyone. Just.Keep.Doing.It. 

We don't take American Express...

The day of Brandon's death...

I was sitting in the car "after". I'd talked to my sister-in-law and one of my own sisters for a little bit. Had some music playing, air conditioner running, trying to gather myself to make the drive home. It had to have been around 11:30 or so. I really don't remember the exact time. Everything was a bit of a blur at that point.

My phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but answered it. 

"Hi this is Eric from blah blah blah..." He went on to say that he was calling from the hospital and wanted to know if Brandon should be taken to a funeral home and if so, which one or was he to be taken directly to the University for the anatomical body donation. 

I was still in a bit of a daze but responded no, no funeral home, please take him straight to the University. 

Eric went on to say that he had a number he was going to give me. I needed to call the service that would be transporting his body and needed to pay them. 

Me to myself. WTAF. Thinking...Can't you bill me? 

Me to Eric, uhm, sure. Let me find a pen and a piece of paper or something to write on.

I dug around in my bag while tearing up again because seriously? WTF My husband JUST died. 

I called the number and talked to Terry.

Terry was very ebullient over the phone; I lost my mom and sister and we carried them through this service, too. We're all family here and your husband is now a part of our family. 

Me - uhh. That's kind of creepy.

She went on to say they'd take care of him, etc., etc. Then got down to business.

Our services cost two hundred and fifty dollars for transport and we don't take American Express. 

Me. Uhm...okay. Visa okay? 

She was chatty for a bit assuring me, reassuring me while she got my info after which I hung up and just sat there for a bit.  

Talk about a very bizarre transaction.