Karin

I'm feeling a little better about this semester after an e-mail exchange with my professor yesterday. I realized that signing up for the previously dropped class with the same professor, who knows my situation, was a smart move. I assumed that I would have to complete all previous assignments over again, 6 weeks of work before I dropped the class, restarting rather than resuming the course. I asked her to confirm, reminding her of why I dropped the course last semester, and she told me that she's perfectly okay with me resubmitting last semester's work for those assignments. Yippee!! That's a huge relief, since I'm still not feeling 100% focused yet, and I really didn't relish the idea of writing new papers on the same assigned topics.

Thanks, everyone, for reminding me I'm not alone in this kind of experience. I don't understand people. Days after that conversation, apparently oblivious to the fact that I'm avoiding her intentionally and that hey, this loss may have changed me and my whole world . . . . she reaches out and asks me if I'll do her taxes (as I have in years past). No. Just . . . . no.

I really need to get this off my chest to some folks who I think will "get it". A few weeks ago, a friend who claims me as her "bestie" (I hate that word) asked me how I was doing/feeling. Mind you, today marks 4 months since Eddie died, so at the time, I was at 3 months and change. She caught me in a weak moment, and I told the truth, though I should have known better. I told her that I was ready to sell off anything worth selling, give away anything else I don't want to pack, and move back "home". That's 2,000+ miles from here, where I grew up and where all of my family lives. Eddie's family is here, and I love them, but they're no substitute for my own family. Though this friend has known for years that our ultimate plan was to move to the area I grew up, so this should come as no surprise, I should have known better than to be honest. She proceeds to tell me that since I've been away from "home" longer than I was there (not true), I should stay here. She also goes on about how she's too old (mid-30s) to find a new friend, so I can't move, or she'll be friendless if I do. Also, she tells me that I would have to be the one to break the news to her 5-year-old child, who already has anxiety issues due, in my opinion, largely to her parenting style. Yes, of course, that's what I needed to hear. I hear all of this as her telling me that my feelings aren't valid, and all that matters is how it would affect her. I had no words. I finally had to just make her stop by telling her that it's happening, though not immediately, and I won't discuss it. This from someone who tells others that I'm her best friend. I've been limiting contact with her since then, as I don't need that kind of friend, especially now. Thanks for providing a "safe" place to share. I really needed to get that out. I don't think I'm being overly sensitive, but no one else understands.

A trio of songs by Diamond Rio: "I Believe" - "One More Day" - - This one played on a loop in my head for days between when E died and his funeral service. "You're Gone" -

"I Miss My Friend" by Darryl Worley Based on lyrics alone, it's unclear if this is about a break-up or something more permanent . . . . . but the message of the video is clear.

I'll be re-starting my third semester of coursework toward earning a Masters of Library & Information Science degree. I'm not really looking forward to it, wondering if I'm going back too soon.

I'm planning to be in San Diego for Comic-Con during that July time frame, to the date change has changed my response to "Can't make it, but hope you all have a great time!".

I think everyone's experience will be different, and you have to do what's right for you. I don't have any advice to offer, but I'll give you my story. I will preface it with the fact that burial location and cemetery visiting mean absolutely nothing to me. If I want to feel close to Eddie, there are so many other places I would visit before the cemetery. To me, no matter where he's buried, he's not "there". I've visited once since the funeral and am sure to visit again after the stone is placed, but other than that, I don't feel the need to be there. I had to decide quickly how to handle the single/double question, as it was a question of real estate that had to be decided before Eddie could be buried. On the day following the night he died, his parents and I were to meet with the funeral home to make that decision. In my case, we lived in California, while all of my family is in the Midwest, and all of his family is in California. I chose to have Eddie laid to rest in California, in the same cemetery as his grandparents, where his parents and one sibling have also already made pre-arrangements for themselves. That place is so crowded that unless you plan for both residencies, so to speak, at the same time, there's no way the second person can end up next to (or on top of!) the first person. So, I had to decide immediately. Knowing that he would not want me to feel tethered by the financial obligation, that my family is 2,000 miles away, and not knowing what else life has in store for me, I opted not to plan to be buried with him. We never had kids, so no need to stay together for their benefit, either. I did, however, agree and arrange with his parents to move forward with the double plot, with the intention that his brother (99.99% likely to never marry) will be buried with him when his time comes. Eddie and his brother were always very close, so I know he would approve. My difficulty, now, is in choosing a dual stone layout that works well for the two brothers, as consistency will dictate that however the wording and details on Eddie's side are laid out, his brother's side will follow suit, or at least my little symmetry loving mind hopes so. That's still in progress, with a very irritating amount of wait time between my requests for information and the coordinator's responses.

3 months, today. Feels like yesterday, and at the same time, feels like years ago. My memory stinks, on a good day, so I really don't remember much at all from the time around his death and funeral. That lack of memory, I've heard, is my grief protecting me from pain, but because I don't remember, it often feels like he's just not home right now. Then, I remember, and every reminder or fresh new memory is like a punch to the gut, triggering a brand new round of pain. I miss him so much.

How am I supposed to do this "life" thing without my other half? Suddenly, I am as unencumbered as a recent high school graduate with a whole world of options......and nothing sounds appealing.

central California. So far, looks like Phoenix area dwellers are my closest neighbors in the group, and that's around a 10 hour drive. :-\

I miss him. I hate this.

When I called to deal with Eddie's outstanding credit card balance and learned that I have to pay exactly ZERO of it, I was surprised and initially elated to not have that burden to worry about . . . .then quickly ticked that I had put the $2K plus it cost to reach the out of pocket maximum for his recent hospital stay (before insurance covered the rest) on my card instead of his.

Eddie proposed to me on April Fool's Day. He had no idea that was the date, as he was so nervous and focused on the proposal itself. We were in Monterey, sitting in the gazebo on Asilomar State Beach. He said all these lovely pre-proposal things to me, and asked me to marry him. I told him that he better be serious, because if he was pulling an April Fool's prank on me, I would get in the car and leave without him. lol That's when he realized the date. I said yes, of course, and I would again.

Eddie and I met online and lived many states apart. The first time I visited him, one of the outings he planned was an overnight at a bed and breakfast in wine country. It was the off season, so we were the only guests that night. The house was quiet when the innkeeper let us in and showed us around, in the early evening. Later that evening, still alone in the house, we started to hear faint piano music coming from nowhere and everywhere. It just started, all by itself. We searched for the source and were half convinced the place must be haunted when we couldn't find anything. It was actually kind of creepy. We felt silly and had a good laugh at ourselves when we finally found the source, a hidden stereo in a random cabinet, wired to some very well hidden surround sound speakers, and with a timer the innkeeper had set to automatically play during certain hours. That memory made me smile while writing it. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to share.