My last post became corrupted and since I write by the seat of my pants, I can't remember exactly what it said. I was upset with myself yesterday because I haven't been writing. One of the ways I get to the bottom of things is to ask myself questions then immediately answer. I did this when my kids were little because it helps them get to the crux of the matter.
To make an extensive discussion with myself short, I discovered that the reason is that when I write it goes straight from my brain into my hands. There is no room for self-deception in my writing. Without self-deception you have to face the grief. And grief requires hard hard work.
Grieving in the midst of a pandemic is doubly hard. I have a core group that I spend time with though most of it is by phone. My boys and their families are super careful as is my daughter. I never leave the house without a mask and my hands are literally cracked and peeling from the amount of sanitizer I use. By the way, hand lotion mixed with petroleum jelly works for the cracks in the finger tips. My heels have migrated to my hands and do they hurt.
Under normal circumstances I would be visiting friends in Fremont, Reno, North Carolina, and Arizona. I would surround myself with my support system and not rely so heavily on my family. They have their own grief to work through. But that is impossible, made doubly impossible by the fact I came down with a cold yesterday.
My doctor and I discussed my symptoms and though she was sure it was a cold as well, I will be going in for a COVID test tomorrow. It is better to be safe than sorry. I have the usual symptoms like a stuffy nose, ears plugged, and raspy voice. No chest issues at all. I think that some people forget there are still the normal colds out there just like the flu. Every stuffy nose is not a pandemic issue. Besides, I have fall allergies which can cause all those symptoms as well.
Grieving as I said is hard work. I have to figure out how the world will look without my husband. The holidays are especially difficult because Dennis loved Thanksgiving and Christmas. We always had Thanksgiving at our house and on the Friday after we'd head over to the Christmas Fair and then off to downtown for Victorian or Cornish Christmas.
This year I ate at my daughter's. Both my sons were there and we had a good time. Dennis was never far from anyone's heart but there were moments of laughter. It was coming home that made me realize there will never be another holiday season with my best friend and lover.
And that hurts.
To me, it seems that isolation magnifies my grief. Writing helps with that. At least I feel like I'm talking to someone even if it is my computer.