I remind myself again, she's gone...

Maybe I had too much fun last week, playing volleyball and joining in an open mic singing group. Come Sunday, all the pent-up emotions simmered to a boil. 

Jenny’s vision kept recurring in my head. I reminded myself that she is gone.  I will not be able to see her again, she’s gone.  Forever and ever.

“You know if not for you kids, I really have no reason to want to go on with my life.”

It was as gloomy as I could put it, much as I hated myself later for uttering it.  We had just finished Mass and visited Jenny’s niche, now our usual Sunday routine and I was behind the wheel, on our way to a lunch place in China-town.  My daughter K, had her ear-phones on. Thankfully so. But it elicited a response from my boy, who was clearly perturbed.  

"Why would you say that?"

"because really, all that I am doing now, keeping myself busy is just whiling time, time before I go. I do not see much of a future for myself, really".

That was my reply.  Sad and pathetic but honest, as I had felt then.

“There’s not much we can do if you choose to waste your life away. Mum is gone and you have to accept that.”

No reason to go with my life. This was how low I had sunken to over the weekend, letting my misery spill over to infect my kids. It was not only shameless and lamentable, but totally needless.  I hated myself for not being able to bottle up my anxiety to myself.  

In truth I was dwelling on the future, my life ahead. And the outlook, no matter how I see it, appears bleak.  Crystal gazing into the future was something I had resolved to avoid. I should be focussing only on the present. Live a day at a time, as I had written in an earlier post.

But in the depth of my sorrows,  I got careless.

My boy went on to lecture me on my negativity. 

“You should now plan to do the things you like to do and do it for yourself, not anyone else.”  

That should not be a problem. There are a host of things I could do should I decide to retire early and find myself with time to fritter away.  But nothing would have changed. Activities can fill up the time but not the giant hole in my life.

“You should also find someone new to share your life with.”

It was funny to hear this from my own spawn. But I was feeling too low to let out a laugh. So I kept quiet, too speechless to respond.

Find someone new.

Problem is I do not want anyone new. I want Jenny and there is only one of her, but again as I reminded myself, she is gone. I saw her lifeless body riding the automated cart into the furnace.  All that is left of her now is a few handful of ashes inside an urn. Somewhere in St. Mary’s.  I felt my muscles tightening and heart racing. I took in deeper breathes to beat off the stressful thoughts.  My mind presented the factual truth but deep inside me I could not accept it.

So last night, sleep was punctuated with weird dreams. I kept losing things. Things that were important to me, like my laptop at work or a book on loan and even my pants! I could not find my car around the parking lot.  I woke up in the morning, feeling lost and desperate.  Hollowed out.

Today, Monday, the calendar was nearly full. Many consecutive meetings. I should be thankful, if that would put my tormented mind on hold. But I could not shake off the dark clouds. Felt despondent for most parts of the day. In between the long meetings, I was sure I wanted to dump everything. To scribble a quick letter to the bosses that I have had enough.  I was really tired of working on masking my misery.

But good sense prevailed. Eventually, I survived the day.

Yes, there is no sense in cultivating the haunting memories. Yet I could not suppress them.  Jenny suffering during her last months at home and in hospital.  Jenny in her prime of health, radiant and cheerful.  The Jenny I missed the most. 

And I remind myself again. She’s gone. And the absence is unbearable.