The Long Row
Duck. This is about grief. The recent cold spell put a real freeze on the house, literally and metaphorically. The cold came and it seems as though it never left. There is no warmth in the house at all. Just a dark chill. It used to be that 69 in the winter felt comfortable. Now, it just feels cold, empty, lifeless. It’s so bad that when I came home from my recent trip to Houston, I felt little of the joy I normally feel on a return home. It was just a cold, empty house. That was a weird feeling.
It may be that this journey, following the loss of my wife, will be a bit more arduous than I imagined, and any thought I may have had about how well I’m handling things was a bit overstated, and perhaps the worst is yet to come. That’s fine, I guess, I’ve always been optimistic, and I may as well be optimistic about this. It just needs a little tempering, a realization that, okay, it’s going to be hard. There will be bad days. And there will be good days, and the bad days will seem hell bent on drowning out that possibility.
I have a feeling there is no easy way through this mess. No inspirational quote to get me to the other side. It will simply be dogged perseverance and the knowledge that lots of other people have trod this path of what now appears to be indeterminate length, some of them are my friends, and they are more than willing to offer aid and comfort. That seems good and should work in my favor. And now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I think I’ll make the bed, make some breakfast, pet the cat, light a candle, and put on a little music. I have a long row to hoe, and I need to get busy.
John W. Wilson is the author of the Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale