Counting the days

There are as many reasons why I haven't posted anything since May 20,  as there are days from then until now. Mostly I have been immersed in moving both heaven and earth. That is, the process of fixing, packing, cleaning and moving from the Machias house to a house in Lubec, has just taken not only forever, but huge amounts of emotional and mental energy. We had the closing for the Machias house on June 4, but we are still waiting to close on the Lubec house -- all for the lack of a clear title to the deed. That will be resolved in time, but it all detracts from what I had hoped to be a clean-and-swift move from one town to the other.

And, I am hardly finished with the practical details of the move still consuming most of my days. There simply was no time  to stop and reflect, and make a blog post, on the whirlwind of everything that has occurred since May 20. Frank was foremost in every thought and every decision. Mostly I'd think: "I wish Frank were here for this."

That's been my thinking every day, all along, moving between houses or not. On May 19, for the Walk for Life in Addison, the biggest fundraiser for the Beth C. Wright Cancer Resource Center, I was asked to "tell my story" about our cancer journey. I got through it, but not without tears and emotion in public. And that was okay.

Afterward, I mentioned to Center director Michael Reisman that, four months after Frank's death, I was feeling as raw and emotional and drained by losing Frank, as ever. His response was most interesting. He said that Hospice of Hancock County volunteers told him that they have found that "six months after the loss" was the time when clients felt the biggest need for comfort and conversation. I guess we arrive at a transition point, a reality in our lives, that our loved one is not coming back; that we are on our own now, forever more.

I know that I am back to blogging regularly, beyond today. There is just too much to share, that I experience every day, about this very strange journey alone in this world, that I never wanted.