Last week I found myself in one of DJ’s favorite haunts, this particular place I had not been to in almost two years…the Dollar store closest to our home found me scouring the aisles for some items which I discovered needed replacing. I say discovered because before now, I had no need to keep a running inventory in my mental notes about such things as rubbing alcohol, Q-Tips, toothpicks, air freshener refills, garbage disposal cleaner, bluing agent for the toilet bowl, bath soap, Hydrogen Peroxide, rinse aid for the dishwasher, Tylenol, baby powder, hand lotion, blue Solo cups, &ct. …they’re some of the everyday things which are a part of all our lives, a part I have mostly taken for granted up till now. In my mind I know I have always used these things, and have always appreciated the fact that they were there when I needed them. Only recently tho did I realize that they were always there because DJ made sure of that. It’s a testament to her foresight that in almost two years I have not had occasion to need any of them till now. It’s another reminder of how some of the things we consider small and take for granted, things our partner’s did for us and which now, we have to do for ourselves, which can signal the start of that memory train. Now, this is not say that I haven’t been to a Dollar store since she died, just that I had not been to this particular store. As I say, it’s the closest one by our house, and whenever we would be in other stores and I might remind her that she intended to get this or that item, she would say “....oh, that…how much is it…not here, we can get it cheaper near the house…” and we would end up where I was now. As I gathered the things I came for, naturally I was thinking of DJ…thankfully it was not an unpleasant experience, a spark to some emotional firestorm; actually I had a calming, almost familiar feeling walking those aisles and it felt good…not even bittersweet. Really, it’s the way I have wanted memories to come to me… from those first early times when most of them brought crushing pain. Clearly hearing DJ say “…not that one…the green type…” as I prepared to pick up the first bottle labeled Isopropyl that I saw, I lowered my hand to the next shelf and took the green colored rubbing alcohol.
This is not about my needing the commonplace items of life, it’s really about the memories my junket to that Dollar store brought on and the fact that most of those memories and others are coming today without so much damn pain. Many months ago I had read somewhere that one destination of the journey might be to arrive at a point where we can ‘have the memories without the pain’ ; I took that observation to heart and geared all my efforts towards that end. Arriving there may have occurred without any effort on my part, I don’t know, but I do know that the attempt gave me a focal point for the emotional energy which at times was overwhelming. As I picked up other items, I thought about how altho not a bad feeling, it was unsettling to a point because the sadness which usually came with such memories was not fully there and the thought that the memories of DJ might become so peaceful and easy that I might become desensitized to them flashed across my mind. All at once it dawned on me that this is what should happen for me, it had been one of my goals. Being fearful of the memories is not new for me, but that fear has always been because of the pain which might be generated; having the memories and not fear or pain and learning how to accept them as a natural part of the flow for the different life is what is so new.
Having gathered the last of the needed things, I headed to the check out counter, there, I watched as a lady in front of me waited for the clerk to give her a total…the lady, tho watching as the clerk rang up each item, seemed fully unprepared to pay when the total was announced, finally she lifted her purse to the counter and began rummaging for a medium to pay with. It is a scene reminiscent of DJ, as I have watched many times as she delivered a cart full of goods to a counter and when it came time to pay for them, she would act almost surprised and would then finger through her purse…or wallet…or her pockets…or my pockets searching for a means to pay with; it was a running joke with us for a while, how, even tho she knew at some point she would need to pay, she never seemed to be prepared to do so. It was something I would often point out to her as I watched other folks, mainly women; go through the same ritual that she herself had almost perfected. Lest you think I’m poking unfair fun at just women, do some personal observing on your own…The memory of that too, came with ease and familiarity…with a warmth I’m learning to enjoy. In the car, on the way home, as I watched the traffic and the people and the buildings and the signs, I thought about the hundreds of times DJ and I had taken the same route, even on the day we had received the worse news of our lives; and how on that day I had noted the traffic and the people and the buildings and the signs. I had made a particular mental note of the broken corner of the large Neon sign at the drugstore and have looked at it many times as I had occasion to come to that drug store for DJ’s medication; it would always take me back to that day and the sinking feeling would wash over me. As I drove past the store, I noticed the sign still sported the same damaged corner even now, some almost six years later. Thinking of my thoughts on that day did not send my mind or the car careening out of control, it was more of a reflective nature, perhaps even with a touch of sadness, but without much pain. Trying to put all these new ideas about the memories my mind is generating, into some coherent order is proving to be quite an exercise, I imagine working on any of the things the different life presents should be exhausting; identifying and placing into order and in safe places the many nuances involved appears what I am going through now.
And this now is an experience unto itself, with me greeting each day, tho thankful as I am, with an attitude bordering on gross indifference. Others enduring the same journey have mentioned it, this time, referring to it scientifically as the Blahs; the overall feeling of not being interested in much and not knowing exactly what I might want to be interested in does not stop the memories so I am glad that they are coming in a much softer way now. Unlike earlier times in the journey when changes in the way I had been perceiving things would occur, this changing of the character of the way the memories present themselves is not adding to the confusion; today I am able to recognize some of the changes and understand that it is all part of the process. Now mind you, this current spate of the blahs is not due to any lack of things I need to be doing, there is an abundance of those; a basement to finish cleaning out, backyard area to be tidied, a pantry to be gone through…again, but the motivation to do those things has been lacking…so far. I’m not overly concerned about it, despite my earlier belief that some of the periods we go through would last forever, I’m finding that most are only temporary and eventually fade into something else. Those are the types of things which are hard to believe early on when the memories can bring such devastating hurt and we can only see more pain in the future. But just as I found that I could not live in that deep, all encompassing pain forever, that really, I could only be that sad for only so long and that moving away from it was not a betrayal of DJ, but a affirmation of my own human spirit, that simply because I did not want to cry forever, not remain prisoner to the idea that just because I was starting to feel better, my love for DJ was any less or the missing had lost that special bite it can give, that the notion that the sadness and loneliness would only be cured by being with someone else, I am now finding that for me, having the memories without the pain is not only possible but is welcomed. Coming to terms with these things within ourselves seems to be another one of the hard things we must do. A popular lecturer has stated “ If we are not comfortable being alone with ourselves, how can we expect anyone else to enjoy being alone with us…”, seems to make sense to me…long before I attempt to share me or my memories with anyone in any serious way, for sure I better be able to find safe places for them in my own mind. Of course this is all trial and error, we try this, test the waters on that, see if A works or will a B or C plan be needed; like many things, grieving is not an exact science and trying to negotiate the ups and downs, the turns and twists of the roller coaster is a precarious one at best, but I think it has to be done if we are to experience any joy in the different life.
Arriving in front of our house, I turned the car off and sat there for a while looking at the small laminated image I have of DJ sitting in the dashboard. It’s from her 50th birthday party and she looks really happy; I smiled as my mind filtered the many emotions which rushed through it and I was able to think of what she and I shared and had a genuinely good experience of having those memories; they are what I have of her now and they must carry me...and I, them. Sometimes I think we really need to stop and think about how we can better recognize the appearance of those things we may ask for; it’s not always easy but nothing really worthwhile is easy…or so I’m told. Having done this many times over the past months, this sitting in front of the house in the car and having had at some of those times, the emotions range from crippling pain to benign indifference, those times early on, when, with the windows rolled up, I would scream at the top of my lungs over and over in an attempt to expel the pain and cry uncontrollably as wave after wave of realization would crash against my senses attempting to batter me into submission to the darkest thoughts my mind could entertain; when the challenge of actually getting out of the car and walking up those six steps to our door was at it’s greatest…I find now, I am accepting the feeling of calmness which I am experiencing as a welcomed improvement and really, something I have longed for. Because we are so immersed in it and its effects are so pervasive, grief can blind us to some of the more positive changes which take place during our journey, and at times those changes can be almost imperceptible to us.
Once inside, as I put the things in their proper places, in the linen closet, on the shelves over the toilet and on the night stand, I stopped to look around; the house still has the roaring silence, altho I've become accustomed to it by now; the pall of emptiness which hangs over the entire place doesn't appear to be frayed one bit, and the sense of loneliness it can generate is still very much present, but today all of that is o.k....it has to be, for a while anyway. Not having to like any of it is the one step of the journey I can take upon myself to make; but simply because I don't like it doesn't mean I can ignore the more positive feelings I am having each day. So it is, living each day of the different life, attempting to be grateful for the chance to do the next right thing and thankful for having what we do have; trying to manage the shifting emotions and honestly believe that what is best for us will actually happen; it's what the days are made of now, it's part of the dues being paid for enjoying such a rich and pleasing life with DJ...I'm not complaining, jes' sayin'; accepting all this as the way of the world, my world, is the task at hand but it's something I would not trade for any amount of dollars.
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