A year ago this night, my husband chose to end his life.
I have spent a couple of hours this evening reading over the things I've written under the heading "Jim's death." It is difficult to read them in order. It involves much backtracking, because there are a lot of them. I had to hit the label, and read up from the bottom, hit "Newer posts," backtrack through "Older posts" to the one after the one I had just finished.
Not to self: put them all somewhere, in order.
I was tempted to write a post wallowing in the sorrows of the past year. But. Who needs another of those? I wrote a whole year's worth, for heaven's sake!
Not a whole lot has changed, on the surface. Jim's estate has not been probated, or executed, or whatever they call it. My home is still a mess. I'm still angry and heartbroken.
But, you know what?
I have survived this god-awful year! I still love my job. My son is leaving for Cornell College in Iowa on Thursday. I've done two great shows, one of which was a total triumph for me. Whole days go by in which I don't cry. Whole nights go by without my waking up in the abominable silence.
People who have been through this tell me that the second year is the worst.
I say, BRING IT ON!