It’s pretty amazing when you think about it, how quickly we can jump into a new routine. Why is it so easy to do when you “have” to and so hard to do when you “want” to? I’m giving myself through Sunday to continue the way I have been since Joe died. Sitting, talking, dreaming, remembering, regretting, singing, all of it, and then Monday morning, I’m getting back to the healthy lifestyle and habits Joe, and I had started. Meditating, walking, juicing, just better practices in general. That part of our life felt good.
Food hasn’t tasted so great to me lately. It’s also amazing how your body can adapt so quickly, yes? Everything I eat is either bland or salty. I haven’t had much of a sweet tooth. Amanda did splurge on some ice cream, and that was pretty good— (obviously!) I’m up and down, in and out, crying and laughing, scared and excited-basically, whatever emotion is available, I’m experiencing it. I know it’s “normal.” That’s what I keep hearing.
I know everyone is worried that they’re bothering me and want to give me space. Space is beautiful, I love it, but so is community. I miss everyone. I haven’t showered every day, but I have fallen asleep in the bathtub on several occasions— trying not to let that happen again. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and a lot of writing. I started a practice of “love letters to self” a few years ago, and it’s a good one to have. I have decided that now, to write my love letters to Joe, instead. We had such a deep connection that it feels good to talk to him about my days. I feel like he’s listening and helping me to figure things out. I’m so glad I kept such detailed notes about all of our ideas. I have lots to fall back on to help move me into this new life—things we wanted to do that I now will.
I see more and more of my true nature coming out. The need to let go of all things perfect. I’m just not worrying about little things anymore, and if there’s a typo or something forgotten or that isn’t up to “standard” protocol, if I’ve used the same pictures in different posts, well, that’s okay too. It’s the little things right now—a hug, music, a barefoot walk through the yard, an old text, a trip to the shop—little things like that. All songs have a new meaning in my world now. I hear lyrics I never paid attention to before. They jump out at me, even. Music is so powerful. Music was, and still is, a big part of our life. It’s a universal language.
There’s one song in particular, “Falling Faster Than You Can Run” (lyrics) by Nathaniel Rateliff— Joe discovered, and we fell in love with him, in Florida this year— I’ve heard it many times before but never paid attention to the “poem” (because that’s what it is.) It’s a very slow song (that’s part of its power), and many would probably find it incredibly sad, but I see it as an important message. There is a sadness to it, no doubt. Something I heard when it was playing made me start it over and look it up. WOW! It could be titled June 26, 2020— from Joe to Marie, with love. EVERY. WORD. It is a haunting song of love and loss and healing.
This evening my deck will once again be filled with beautiful, loving women, coming together to share a glass of or a cup of, to have real conversation, to laugh, to sing, maybe to dance. Another circle. I’m sure to cry and to remember all of the good times we’ve had together over the years. We have so much to fall back on and plans to make still. I will light candles and build a fire because that’s what we do on the deck. Aren’t all conversations better with the glow of a fire, a candle? I think so.