Warm socks and toilet paper

I can tell. Today is going to be One of Those Days. Anyone who's been in the middle of grief knows what I mean. The least little thing will inevitably set me off. I'll have to sit down, and make sure there's a box of tissues (ok, I'm being fancy. In my case it's actually a roll of toilet paper because I never remember to buy tissues)  handy, and tell myself there's not really anything that important to do right now.

I'ma need one-a these.

Actually there kinda is. Company's coming this weekend in the form of a wonderful young couple I got to know through Capt. He (I'll call him D) lived with Capt as a teenager, and they became very close. She (I'll call her A) is D's wife. They lived with us for several months when their living situation caved in. It was fabulous. Anyway, they're coming and I need to make up the bed in the guest room, clean the bathroom, and make a pot of chili. Then this afternoon I'm working with Dad at a university event, for a few hours. So yeah, there's stuff to be done and all I feel like doing is sitting on the couch with a roll of toilet paper, feeling sorry for myself.

 The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

I think God knows when I need to be doing stuff. I am prone to self-pity sometimes, and it's not a good look. I am impatient with it in others, so am also with myself.  But I am taking a few moments anyway. There's a nice cup of coffee, and I lit the peppermint candle. It's one of the few candle scents that won't send my asthmatic lungs into a tizzy. There's frost on the ground outside, and that means I get to employ a wool sweater (rare opportunity in East Alabama) and thick socks. God's lining things up nicely to provide some comfort here.

There's a lot of thinking to do. It can be done while making beds and scrubbing toilets and browning beef. There will be music, stuff with which I can sing along. Probably tylenol as well. This grief business gives me a headache. 

But yeah, this morning, a lot of background stuff is hitting me in the figurative feels. I am the sort of person who sees the mistakes I've made to the exclusion of the good things I've done. I see myself as a fairly terrible person most of the time. (Honestly, I'm not looking for anyone to tell me otherwise, I'm just saying what's on my mind). I wish I could see the good stuff, maybe I wouldn't be so hard on myself all the time. But, this morning I was taking account, and, as usual, my brain started throwing up on me....all the THINGS. IF ONLY....WHY...WHAT WERE YOU THINKING (oh that's right....YOU WEREN'T). All the regrets, missteps, thoughtlessness. IF ONLY....Capt would have been happier/healthier/this wouldn't have happened...IF ONLY...Himself would have/could have/that wouldn't have happened.

2 of my sons pointed out, recently, that I was shouldering too much of the responsibility. Capt and Himself were grown men who made decisions about their lives. BUT...I said. No, Mom...they were grown men, not puppets you manipulated. You see, both of them died, essentially, as a consequence of dietary and lifestyle decisions THEY made. Not because I did or didn't do something.  Thing is, it's almost easier for me to accept responsibility somehow, than to accept that I wasn't responsible. Strange way of thinking, no? And why did it take a 23 year old to point that out to me? How did my kid get so wise?

Nonetheless, today, I am sad. I miss them both. I miss the things we had and the things we won't have. I know if Himself hadn't died I'd never have met Capt. What a ball of weird emotion that thought causes. I miss the evenings on the patio with Himself, a glass of bourbon and a cigar on the table next to him. I miss the mornings with Capt, hot tub-sitting loosening our stiff joints, and planning the day. I miss the 3 day weekends in the mountains with Himself, watching the snow fall and wandering through antique stores. I miss the weekends with Capt, on the beaches of Florida, or diving in a clear spring. I miss planning meals with them. watching a movie, all those minutia of middle-aged life with someone else. 

I know I have to move on ahead. I get that. And I will. I'll be OK, life goes on, and New Normals are forged. I've got God right there with me, so I'm not alone. I'll be ok. 

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9