New (grief) math

I've written about grief math before. More than once, in fact. But the NEW grief math is considerably less unpleasant:

• 11 days ago, I received my first dose of the Moderna vaccine.
• 17 days from now, I'll receive my second dose.
• 31 days from now, I'll reach immunity.
• 32 days from now, I'll see two of my favorite people and hug them both. There will undoubtedly be crying.

Having this light at the end of the tunnel has made an enormous difference in my mood. I'm grateful that I'm finally reaching the end of one part of the horrible experience of the past 397 days. The other part... well, I don't think that will ever end.

I got through the 13 month milestone much better than I did the one year mark. But over the past few days, there have been the odd moments that hit me like a ton of bricks: walking Kellogg yesterday afternoon, I got a whiff of the cherry trees (maybe it was one of the others, but that's not the point), and was taken right back to that "I can't breathe" feeling from the early days. Doug was an avid gardener, and smelling flowers took me right back to that first summer after we started dating, when I "helped" in the garden; he always planted orange marigolds, because his mother liked them. Yes, that's a sweet memory; that doesn't mean it isn't also painful.

And then, just a few minutes ago, Kellogg insisted on another trip outside (I think he spotted a critter he wanted to play with), and there was this glorious sunset. And I burst into tears: See, sunrise was my time. But the sunset? That was ours. Every vacation, every long weekend, every nice evening we could, we'd watch the sunset together. We'd talk about our plans, we'd reminisce about our early days when we were struggling to figure out how to love each other best, we'd laugh about the silliest stuff... And sometimes, we'd just sit together, silently, holding hands and taking in the moment.

It's bittersweet, y'know? I mean, I've heard some widowed horror tales of marriages that I would've ended LONG before someone died. Yeah, go ahead and judge me for that, but there's no marriage if only one person is doing the work to keep it alive. So, Doug and I were lucky: we really had the fairy tale, except that it was real. And I know that's because we worked for it (and not actually a fairy tale), but it doesn't really matter: we made each other ridiculously happy.

Trips down memory lane are nice, but still triggering to some degree. But more and more, I'm getting the sweet with the bitter. And I'll take that.

I still haven't dreamed about Doug, but that's not surprising considering that my sleep has been totally jacked up since Daylight Saving Time kicked back into gear. I'm still getting 6-7 hours a night, but it's broken up; I don't think I'm getting the deep, restful sleep I need. So if I AM dreaming, I'm sure not remembering them. And I'm sure not feeling rested beyond the first couple of hours in the morning. I really hope that resolves itself soon, because I am one TIRED widow.

Despite not dreaming about him, though, I do feel Doug's presence more often. Not all the time, but there are moments. Is he really here in those moments, or is it just my imagination conjuring him up? I don't know, and I also don't really care: it's comforting, and that's enough.