January
17, 2010
I went to my friend Kathy’s house for a memorial for her
father today after church. I didn’t have to put on a grieving face because I
have been grieving for a long time now. Not just since last week or even since
he came home from Texas. I’ve been grieving about my marriage for about thirty
years. I’ve just never had the courage to do anything about it.
The service was very nice, right there in their home. Many
good things were said about Kathy’s father. All her brothers and sisters were
there. It was sort of like a testimony meeting. He lived with Kathy and Mitch
at the end. They set up hospice right at their house for him and Kathy took
care of him until he died.
I was the only non-relative there, so I felt honored to be
asked to attend. I was glad nobody asked me where Jerry was because I had no
idea where he was at that time. He said later he went to work. I don’t really
care.
I decided I’m not going to tell Kathy right now, who has
been my only confidante in my many crises with Jerry. She and Mitch are our
best friends. We fellowshipped them into the church.
They’re going to be devastated.
When Jerry got home from wherever he was, I was sitting in
the living room trying to read. I only go through the motions of turning the
pages because I don’t think I’m able to concentrate on reading. I keep reading
the same paragraph over and over. But I don’t know what to do with myself.
He walked in the front door, looked over at me and said,
“What’s the matter with you? You’re all droopy and depressed.”
I blinked and my mouth fell open because I couldn’t believe
he asked me that. I said, “Jerry, it’s only been a week. Eight days.”
He said, “When are you going to get over this? I told you,
it’s done.”
I said, “I don’t know how long it will take, but it’s going
to take longer than a week.”
He walked upstairs in a huff.
What is he thinking?
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