I guess after facing the fact that death knows no age, suddenly your whole thought process changes.
Actually, I don't "guesss", I know this occurs.
Death is no longer an old person thing.
It is no longer a thing you can truly predict or prepare for.
This fact intrudes almost all my thoughts about all sorts of things.
If you go back to my death list, I have started updating this on a regular basis.
For the last couple of days, I have been getting nervous that it was slightly out of date.
And nothing really that important is out of date. Just small things.
I also want to get my advance directive signed and it makes me nervous that it isn't.
And in case it is ever a question, I do not want to be kept alive just for the sake of breathing.
To those who will be charge of that part of my life/death, please consider my quality of life and the statistics of me recovering to something somewhat normal.
My thoughts about my friends are also a bit messed up.
I think about "what if this person dies, how will I deal with it?"
Or the person who helps me with my finances?
Or those who help me with something else, who will help me if they pass away?
I feel myself pulling away from some people who are know are older and may pass away soon.
Or if I feel someone is unhealthy.
It's like my brain does an algorhythm about people's potential life span and figures out how close I can emotionally afford to be with them.
Healthy? Cool, I'll be your friend. Not so healthy? Hmm, I just don't want to deal with the pain of losing another person.
Of course, that's not fair since Roger was super healthy.
Then there is my house.
I wonder what people would do with my stuff.
What would they keep?
What would they save?
What would they throw out?
Would they understand my stuff and why it was important to me?
Who are "they" anyway?
Who would take my cats?
Who would love my cats the way I love my cats?
Then one of the more weird thoughts while shopping, "If I die tomorrow, will this purchase be a waste?"
For example, the other day I heard a lady on TV saying to save time, she buys things in bulk.
So when she buys tampons, she buys enough for six months.
And that's cool, except what if I die tomorrow. That money (yes, all $20) could be given to my beneficiaries.
So I do not buy six boxes of tampons only two.
I keep telling myself that all these thoughts are normal.
At least I keep praying they will wane and I will have somewhat regular Star thoughts at some point in the future.
I keep hearing Roger say, "You are so weird."
Yes dear, I know.
2 comments:
Yup...normal thoughts, my dear. And yes, they're probably a bit weird too, to those blissfully uninitiated in the horrors of being widowed young. But to the rest of us, I remember thinking many similar thoughts right after Charley died. I can't remember any of the specifics of those thoughts to help you feel a little less freakish, and blissfully they're a blank memory anymore...but I know I fixated over many of the same things. And I'm guessing it's totally normal....
Yeah, I used to spend a lot of mental energy on similar things.
Isn't it great that someone can tell you you're weird and it's just a sign of love? And did you ever think you'd love to hear someone say it?
You're wonderful, too.
Supa
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