I never knew that reality could be so elusive. My experience has been that accepting reality is an intellectual function, for the most part. But my reality has morphed into something I do not recognize, something I cannot comprehend, something I cannot touch, or even feel. I am watching my life and I do not know who I am looking at. I am a stranger in my own skin, in my own home. Yet I am at peace. My fear is not about being alone, it is that people will forget this man of character. My man. My love. My friend. My husband. I am at peace because I know that this is part of a bigger picture--one that I cannot see through my limited lense. I know that his life has made others reflect and desire change within their own life. Is this why the young and the good die before what appears to be their time, so we who remain are forced to examine ourselves? I wonder. Rarely do I consider my trajectory when a 90-yr old with Alzheimer's passes away.
So this is my reality. Widow. But at peace for now. Until the anger comes, which it will, because i am not immune to the stages of grief which we all must endure. So be prepared. I will be angry. I hope I remain peaceful inspite of my anger. Still, today, I think I am watching someone else's life, even as I empty his closet and find every card I ever gave to him, and as I fill out forms about death benefits in triplicate--alone.