Monday, October 11, 2010 — Two months later

Today marks the second month anniversary of Skip's death. I keep expecting him to walk through the door. I am still unable to watch him on DVDs that have been thoughtfully made to record his presence. They are just too real for me to be able to handle. But I am sure I will reach a time when I will greatly welcome being able to see him looking so real and being his kind, thoughtful and gracious self.

Daily I tell myself and my friends and family that I am doing quite well. I really do believe that when I say it. Yet here I am dissolving in tears that just won't quit. I have been left with a comfortable life in a house I love and community that is incredibly supportive. My children have been so generous with time from their busy lives. I have more than enough to keep me occupied with necessary chores, commitments and hopefully some time soon for creativity. So why can't I even think or see clearly today? Is this what anniversaries do to you? It certainly isn't that I haven't been warned. In fact I have received warnings which I choose to defy and hope will never come true.

I am the kind of person who would rather adopt a totally realistic view of my existance. I do not want to hide from anything. And I want to be happy and live a creative and productive life. I truly believe this is exactly what Skip would want me to do.

I went to dinner at a seaside hotel out of town with dear friends this weekend. We talked a great deal about loss and grieving. It was the right conversation to have with the right people. I suddenly realized that this is one more not so subtle example of how one's life changes after this kind of landmark event. "You suddenly become part of a club you hadn't counted on joining." Being with these great people who were so cared for by Skip as well as me was comfortable and fulfilling. The food and ambiance were beyond wonderful. I returned home happy and ready to work on the rummage sale we had planned for my driveway early the next morning to support the Pacific Textile Arts fund to bring a classroom and library space to our Alger Street location. This week we will possibly sign a contract for moving the buildings and that will bring about monumental changes in what we are able to provide for our vital community. So, in just talking about all that, I have cleared my eyes, am mentally listing my commitments for the day and feel that I am indeed doing alright. Bless all of you who keep me busy with my chores and answering your notes and preparing for the Kumihimo class which will be held in my studio at the beginning of November. All of this is what will help me retain my sanity. I love you all for helping me.