Sadness and Grief Deeper Than The Deep Blue Sea

waiting inside suspended animation, bathed in the numbness of sadness mixed with the heat of grief building upon itself. No answers. No way out. "So brave," they say, "to stand your ground." I hear "so brave" as a distant voice shouted towards me from far away. I am confused. Who is so brave? Not me. Not me inside this silent place waiting for a reprieve, a momentary release from the exquisite, laser sharp focus fueled by sadness and grief. A sense of loss intrudes. I look around me. I am a stranger in this place. I wish to be excused, please.

Where is my darn pocketbook?

It is a rarity for me to lose something for a long period of time and  more of a rarity for me to lose something and not find it again. Having made that statement I am constantly misplacing items. This results in late starts as I frantically search for my keys or my glasses or my pocketbook. In addition I plan to decide what I am going to wear and lay it out so I can get dressed quickly. This does not happen either. The plan is made. The execution of the plan remains an attractive option to throwing clothes into the air as I search for two things that will fit and match. I have gained weight. My clothes refuse to comply with the extra pounds. They are so stubborn in that respect. My tops have blotches of this or that on them. I often find those blotches when I see myself in the bathroom mirror of the doctor's office or the restaurant. This is when I adopt my, "I don't care how I look because I am in the middle of a potential mental breakdown" pose. I drop a few sentences by way of explanation. This is a creepy mind-set. Since I have gained weight I go out less, dress with little consideration for how I actually look, buy no clothes and think about losing weight one day. Always gonna start tomorrow. I don't know if this depresses me so much as it surprises me. Like so many things in my world at this time eating and weight take place far in the back of other concerns. I am more puzzled by my lack of self-discipline. I greet that character trait with a hesitant hello. Yes, I understand. Yes, I know, I know! I mutter to myself during my quest to find first one thing and then the other. Our cats are well versed in my chatter as I roam from room to room and back again. If my husband is awake he asks once in awhile if I am talking to him. When I say I am looking for one thing or the other he is not surprised. He volunteers to help find the lost thing and I say no. Not because I don't want his help. At his point in his life he cannot walk far without falling, his balance is tenuous. The searches I have asked him to make end as his body begins to collapse in a puddle towards the floor. We are a pair these days. Our lives have taken unexpe
cted and abrupt turns. The result is this combination of non-ambulatory meets no clue. It begs the question of why he believes I am dependable and trusts me with his life. We have developed our own form of marriage and relationship. I imagine all long term relationships come to a place where the odds and ends of each other make peace with themselves and settle into a wholeness full of contradictions, familiarities, hard won acceptance and a fondness for knowing what the other of us is going to say even as the other of us protests with indignation. None of this finds my pocketbook for me. All of this puts that loss into perspective.