I haven’t said much lately about how I’m doing. Outwardly I seem to be doing very good. After Ron died I found myself without a job to fall back on; to distract me. I managed to find one through a temp agency. I wasn’t one of those dreaded temps that many employers fear. Instead, once I finished the placement, they wanted to hire me directly on a casual basis. Just last week I applied for a full-time permanent position which I have a very good chance of getting. From the start, if I do get it, I get 3 weeks vacation and I plan to do some traveling. Where or with whom I don’t know yet, but something will come up. I wonder if they are having another one of those reader/author cruises they had a few years ago? Something like that would be grand! I was talking with Ryan not long ago about traveling. Ron to put it lightly, was not a traveler. Ryan never understood that about him. I was talking about wanting to go on a cruise and he said I should go on a romance cruise. When I told him I would the next one, he was quite shocked they would have such a thing as he was only joking. The job I have is at a great place. I love working here, even though the people in my department have a propensity to spell my name Kristy all the time J.
I’m taking a second level writing course after taking and really enjoying the first one. I’m getting a little stressed over all the writing we have to do, but I am loving it.
Lisa and I built the ‘library’ and it’s a room all romance lovers would be pea green with envy over.
I’m in the process of redoing the kitchen from floor to ceiling. I’m just waiting for another kitchen place to come over for a quote.
I joined a bereavement group. We had our last ‘official’ meeting last week but we’ve all agreed to meet at least once a moth.
But under the surface it’s different. It’s like I’m sitting on a huge box where the monsters are inside trying to get out and I’m only barely keeping the lid on. The monsters are unbearable pain and loss and grief. They do escape once in a while but then I clamp the lid down real tight again. But they do escape sometimes in my dreams. I had a dream a couple of weeks ago that devastated me. I dreamed that Ron was there and everything that’s happened was just a dream. When I told him that I thought he had died, he laughed and said it was just a nightmare, that he was right there with me. Then I woke up and realized it wasn’t a dream. I was so wrecked I couldn’t go to work that day. I ended up chatting with Sybil for a good part of the day and although I didn’t tell her, she was of amazing help to me that day.
I can barely enter our bedroom. Right after Ron died, I moved to another room. Our bedroom is such a mess and it will take a whole day to clean it, but as of yet, I’m only able enter for a very short time before I have to leave. The other bedroom is much the same story. That’s where Ron kept all of his clothes and while I have an easier time going in that room, in fact I’ve taken over part of the closet – as if the other two aren’t enough, I still can’t go through the dresser or wardrobe that holds all his things.
I had a visitor from ‘Cable Company’, the ones who employee ‘Cable Guys’ wanting me to switch my home phone over to them. It meant some savings on the phone bill so I agreed. But the day they were supposed to come over to do the switch it occurred to me that if they did, they would be getting rid of the voice mail that has Ron’s voice. It’s not much – just Ron saying our last name, but I knew I wasn’t ready to let it go. A few people are a bit freaked out when they call and get Ron’s voice, but we didn’t take video’s, we only have some of those very old movies without sound. When the cable guy showed up, I asked him if we could save the voice mail and when he said no, I told him I couldn’t switch, not at this time anyway. I know it seems weird to a few people who get the voice mail, but it’s of comfort to me.
Whenever I really start thinking about Ron, I want to scream and howl at the pain of losing him, so I don’t think of him. Both boys were over on the weekend and we were talking about him a little bit. We’re starting to do that – just skirting around the edges, and Brent said he wants to retire as soon as he possibly can – at age 50. He said he didn’t want to end up like his dad, gone at age 52. The shock of hearing him say that really through me off, reminding me again of how young Ron was.
So because I’m the best person I know at beating myself up, I feel bad if I don’t think of Ron – like I’m somehow dishonouring him. But when I open up my thoughts of him, I have to close the door real quick before those monsters get out and consume me. But part of me wants to open the door and just feel the pain.
One of the coping mechanisms we learned at the bereavement group was throwing eggs at trees. That sounded real good to me. I think I’ll be buying a few dozen soon.