Coping and going on

The days after Wheelie died went like a big blur.
I wrote the announcements.
Called friends and texted his son.
Received beautiful flowers from my sister and her son.
The only flowers that would come.
Lots of cards.
Beautiful heartfelt messages. Calls from a few friends who knew us both, and who knew to ask the right questions.
It helped tremendously.
But nothing from his side of the family.
His daughter, his son, his grand kids, his newly found nephew.
No calls, no cards, nothing.
Except for the oldest granddaughter who posted on her Facebook that her grandfather died and that she remembered him when she spent the NIGHT with us.
(She and her sister spent two weeks with us one summer)
Wheelie wasn't the most social familie member, that is true.
I was the one to try and keep the glue working. Hoping to keep the family together.
To no avail. Oh yes, I am sure the gifts at Christmas and Birthdays were appreciated, but neither one of us ever got a card or phonecall on our birthdays, a Christmas card, a Thank you.

I kept telling myself they would come around one day.
I am still waiting.

I had to move, since my income was slashed  70%
No more pension, just one social security check.
Thank God I was registered at an "affordable apartment complex"
It took a few hoops to get through the housing authority's red tape and bureaucracy.
But a unit opened up at the right time, and I was able to move right away.

Spider was a huge help, packing, cleaning, being supportive even through her own grief.

So those first few months flew by, and there was a sense of relief, a sense of freedom from being tied down.

But then came May. My funds dwindled down, and I realized that there was no way I could (even in an apartment that was discounted) keep things going. At the same time my real grief hit me in the stomach like a brick.
Thoughts of guilt, about so many things. Remembering how things were when Wheelie was "well"
When we shared life as a couple. We WERE happy once. Went out to dinner, to concerts, enjoyed gardening, listening to music.
We had our horrible times too, and I felt guilt over almost leaving him at one point.
But he stuck by me, letting "it" take it's course, which it did.

I cried and cried and cried. Could not sleep. Cried and cried some more.
This went on throughout May, June, July.
It was then I asked my Heavenly angels to please please help he.
And they did.
Slowly but surely the sun started to shine again.

I stayed home/indoors most of the summer, as it was always way too hot to go outside. I spent it thinking things through and crocheting.
Then my sister sent me (and paid for) a ticket to Holland. Just to get away, she said. You need some pampering, she said.
And then I decided to get on a waiting list for a smaller, less expensive apartment.
And then I decided to sell some stuff on eBay.
And then my son sent me money.
All this positive shit really made me feel better.
I think I am over the hump.

I stopped waiting for the Town family and people who knew him to contact me. It's alright.
It's a relief not to worry about them anymore.

Can't wait for the temperature to go down though.

SGMKJ