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Monday, July 5, 2010
Only Loneliness and Spider Bites
I took photos of my little gardens, desperate to find a place to put this despondent energy, this anxious melancholy, but I failed. Oh, the photos are nice, but they left me unsatisfied, still mournful, still suffering the absence of My Dead Husband. There are still those days when his absence is all that I know. It fills the house, chills it, even in this oppressive heat. How is it possible to be hot and cold at once?
I woke early and began cleaning my little house, dusting and polishing and shining all the mirrors and tables, filling the hours with labor, sweating from the effort. Then, still not satisfied, I began to bake cheese straws, dozens of them, not for me but for others. I could not allow myself to sit, knit, watch TV, read. It was as though I were fleeing the emptiness, trying to fill it with activity and sweat. But it remains, more oppressive than ever.
Tears rolled down my temples as I lay on my blanket last night, while the fireworks at our club filled the night sky with magic and color. I wanted Clint to be there, felt isolated in the crowd gathered to celebrate our nation’s birthday. I wanted to wear Clint’s Old Navy shirt with the American flag on it, but I couldn’t find it. That made me cry, so I went to Old Navy and bought another one in size XL so I could pretend it was his.
Today is better. I’m devoting it to writing this post and reading blog posts from my favorite sites. And yes, I see Proust in my day. My affair with him is almost at an end, having made it all the way to the seventh volume, Time Regained.
I spent a hour in my paper journal. Parrish is in hospital with a spider bite that could have cost him his hand or his arm or even his life. A Brown Recluse bit him on his hand last Monday, while he was taking a nap in his bed in the assisted living facility, and because of their negligence and that of two separate emergency rooms, he is now in hospital at a third facility. He has been there since Thursday, wracked with pain and getting continuous IV antibiotics. I will write the entire story in my Rants and Raves blog after I have had a chance to go to Miami and see him.
That has to wait until Wednesday, the 14th, because I have finally, reached the last step in my effort to become employed, and I have orientation and testing until Tuesday.
What next? I suppose there are those out there who would say to me, “Be grateful that Parrish is not dead. Be grateful for what you have, your sweet memories of Clint.” I try. I really do.