The Good Old Days (May 31, 2022)

Separation
by W. S. Merwin

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

When Scott was first diagnosed with cancer and in the months that followed, a lot of people asked me how I was doing and if we needed any help. During that 14 month period, I was completely focused on spending time with Scott and getting him the best medical treatment and quality of life possible. We were doing fine in terms of practical needs like food and housework. Emotionally, of course, life was much harder. Scott was always the best at knowing what I needed, and at his wise encouragement I started seeing a therapist for grief counseling.

I tried not to think too much about the past or the future during that time. I wanted to be present for Scott and not rob myself of whatever remaining good moments we could have by dwelling on the future. The analogy that I told friends and co-workers is that it felt like I was putting out a fire in my house, and I didn't have much time to think about what my feelings were about that. I just needed to put out the fire or keep it at bay.

Now my house has burned down, and the time has come for reflection and taking care of myself and processing the grief. Right now, that involves spending time with family and friends and sharing stories and memories about Scott. I've been functioning reasonably well most days, but there are overwhelming moments of grief that hit hard at random times. I can't believe it's only been two weeks - it feels like it's been months. My mind keeps tricking me into thinking that I'll see Scott in his favorite chair or that he's just in the other room. I miss doing things to take care of him.

I once read a quote by Mindy Kaling that having true confidence means being able to have everything taken away from you and be sitting in a ditch and know you could build it up from scratch. At the time I wondered if I could do that. I don't know what it looks like yet, but I have faith that I can build up from scratch, eventually. Scott is a huge reason why I feel this way. I always felt secure knowing that he loved me and believed in me. I was afraid I would lose that strength when I lost him, but my friend Laura comforted me that his love and faith in me would always keep me strong, and I believe she is right. His heart pumped out a tremendous amount of love over the course of his life, and it lives on in me and his family and friends.

Being present and not thinking about the future does not come naturally for me. Whenever I felt sad or scared, I would remind myself, "Whatever may come, right now I am still married and am holding my husband" to stay grounded. Now I am a widow. That word feels strange and archaic. I looked up "widow" on Wikipedia and realized that I have it a lot better than widows in other times and places in the world. So I guess there is that.

In The Office, Andy Bernard says, "I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them." (I do not watch The Office as much as this post might suggest.) The thing is that I was grateful for each happy moment with Scott as it happened - I did not take them for granted and knew that one day the good old days would end, although I had hoped it would be much further off in the future. Neither of us had regrets when he passed away, and for that I am thankful. I also don't want to be blind to the reality that now is the time to be present with my surviving loved ones, especially my parents and sisters. So I hope you will treasure and enjoy the good old days with your loved ones for as many days as possible, and I will try to do the same.