I don't imagine there's ever a good time to be grieving, or a good time to be wishing one could just close one's eyes and never wake up. But man, this has got to be the WORST time:
First, my husband died, and along with him, my will to live.
Two weeks after the surgery that led to his death, we had a tornado hit. Within blocks of my house. I have friends who lost their homes; I have friends who were without power for days. More than two dozen people died. But me? I'm still here, despite my desire not to be.
After the tornado, everyone banded together in a show of humanity that was heartwarming. It almost gave me back a little faith in humanity. Almost.
Enter SARS-CoV-2
Connections to Doug
The SEC tournament was cancelled. That sucked, because I was settling in to watch the UT/Alabama game when the announcement was made. Then the entire NCAA basketball tournament was cancelled. Then the NBA. Then the NHL. Then the fucking PGA. Today, UT announced that the Orange and White game has been postponed indefinitely.
Watching sports was a big thing for Doug and me. Maintaining connections to him is critical for my mental and emotional health right now. But those connections? POOF. Gone. Don't get me wrong: I understand this is how it has to be for the sake of public health, and I get it. But it just makes this so much harder than it already was.
Then the late-night comedy shows announced they're not going to be doing new shows. There's another connection gone.
Connections to ANYONE
Everyone is off doing their own thing now and dealing with their own problems. This was predictable even without a pandemic, but the pandemic has exacerbated it. No one has the resources or energy to deal with me or my emotional breakdown. I'm not angry at them, or even disappointed with them; my problems are my problems, and dealing with a profoundly grieving widow with no will to live is beyond the emotional bandwidth of people who have their own problems. I get it. Who's going to go out of their way to try and comfort me or make me feel loved? I'm the ultimate Debbie Downer: nihilistic, crying all the time... I'm certainly not the fun woman I was a few short weeks ago, quick to laugh at life's little (or big) mishaps. I don't want to be around me either, so I certainly can't blame anybody else for avoiding me.
But social distancing is rapidly turning into social isolation, and what do you think happens to someone who already feels completely alone when she really is alone 24/7?
I'll tell you what happens: I think. I think too much (a problem I already had LONG before the world started going to hell in a handbasket). I think about everything I've done wrong my entire life, but especially the last few days of Doug's. Case in point: I'm absolutely OBSESSING about not climbing into Doug's bed the day before he died, when he was awake and responsive. He would've known I was holding him. He would have FELT how much I loved him. That would've been his last memory before he fell into a coma. But I didn't. I stood there, holding his hand and talking to him like a fucking idiot, when I could have held my husband one more time. WHY DIDN'T I DO THAT FOR HIM?
I think about the fact that my will to live, already a tenuous thread, gets stretched further, and therefore closer to the breaking point, every single day.
Oh, the (lack of) humanity!
When you don't really want to eat, and you know you have to force yourself to eat, it's critical to have food on hand that you actually find appetizing. (Fun fact: I have several pints of Haagen Dazs ice cream in the freezer, because that used to be my go-to "I'm depressed" food. Haven't touched the stuff. It holds zero appeal.)
The hoarders have stripped the grocery stores. Doesn't matter what food it is that I think, "Hmmm... maybe that would be appealing," it's sold out. And don't even get me started on toilet paper. For the love of Cthulu, WHY are people hoarding toilet paper? I've got a few more days' worth, but what then? They're also hoarding baby formula for reasons I don't understand; this doesn't impact me at all, but if there's a Hell (beyond the one in which I'm already living), there's a special place in it for people who are keeping BABIES from getting what they need.
I'm just tired. I'm tired of people proving, over and over again, that their concern for others stops as soon as they're inconvenienced the smallest bit. I'm not talking about my friends and family who are preoccupied with taking care of their own families; I'm talking about the monsters who are saying, "the at-risk people need to stay at home, because the rest of us have stuff to do." I'm talking about the people who have no compassion for the artists and servers and service workers who are ALREADY losing money due to this pandemic. I'm talking about the people who think they're somehow better than everyone else just because they're lucky enough to be able to afford to buy ten fucking cases of toilet paper and have enough savings that this doesn't really impact their lives.
And then there's next week
A few days ago, I wrote that next Tuesday is going to be really difficult. It's St. Patrick's Day; it'll be one month to the day since Doug's surgery; it'll be five months to the day since we got married.
My grief counselor suggested that, on that day, I should do one thing to honor Doug, and one thing just for myself. I probably ought to do something to honor our marriage as well.
Problem is, what to do? I could cook my traditional St. Patrick's Day feast and invite people over to eat it, but that's stupid (even if I could get the supplies, which is doubtful): I know my immune system is shot right now, and while I don't care if I get sick and die, I sure don't want any of my friends or family to have to live with the guilt of being the one to get me sick.
As for doing something for me... I don't even know what that means. I can't take a long road trip to get away, because I have the animals to take care of, and where am I going to go? I'll still be alone with my thoughts. The only thing anyone could do for me that would be at all helpful is bringing Doug back, but I saw Pet Sematary (the original; I refuse to watch the remake because why remake a perfect film?), and I know how that goes.
Honoring our marriage? What marriage? We had FOUR MONTHS. I'm too bitter about not even really getting to be a wife to feel like I can do anything to honor that.
So, at a time when I MOST need connections - to Doug and to the other people I love who love me - I'm forced to be as alone physically as I am emotionally. I can't take comfort in watching the sports we used to watch together, because they're no longer playing. I can't watch our nightly comedic rehash of the day's news, because they're no longer doing them. I can't get the foods that I want. I'll be completely out of toilet paper soon. And few people are even checking on me now, because they're also dealing with this insanity and they have to ration their own ability to care.
My life is a total mess of unknowns at a time when I NEED the familiar. I won't ask how it could possibly get worse, because I think we all know the universe would find a way to make it so.
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