observations (6 months)

Exercise is up.  Food consumption has not reduced proportionately.  Long fast hikes with a dog are good for the mind.  Bay area springtime makes me feel like I'm getting away with something.

I notice wedding rings, loose on the fingers of my cohorts. The rings slip and spin on slender CG artist fingers, unsettled between the web and the first knuckle.  At the deli I notice an older man whose ring is buried in a sausage-like finger that's seen a whole lot of life.  I'm not wearing my ring anymore. Some days I do, but less and less.  It's an unsettled feeling either way.

Sleep is improving...longer stretches uninterrupted.  Still keeping odd hours.  The couch is a vortex.

I moved E's jackets from the foyer, finally.  Seeing the empty coathook set me off.  I hugged her green down jacket and wept for most of a morning.  Grief is definitely not linear.

Sometimes more than less I sense the loose end of the tether.

Health insurance "Explanation Of Benefits" forms are still arriving.  Each one a cruel snapshot recalling the chaos and heartache of the fight, and the surrender.

For months, a garden dolly lay sideways in the yard...a small 4-wheeled cart designed for weeding.  It was purchased hastily when Eileen's legs weakened from the tumors and she needed extra help to get up after falling.  Red has pissed on it repeatedly and I resolve to set it on the curb.  Maybe today.

The diningroom table has shed its paperwork: The livingroom floor does not welcome its new piles.  Tax season has a way of lighting a fire.

The plants on the deck have somehow defied my attempts to kill them via neglect.  In a morning stupor, I notice the blooms and assume Eileen has been gardening.

I smile when I pass under the few remaining (and long dead) LED "throwies" that E and I deployed a couple years ago.  A watch battery, an LED, a strong magnet, some tape.  We made many and threw them at signposts and fences in the neighborhood...the most mischievous act that 2 middle-aged kids could muster. (one being a school teacher no less!)

My pronoun problem has gotten only marginally better.  My house.  My cats.  My dog.  etc.  Difficult to get used to.  Also difficult to identify myself as a widower.

I catch myself in better moods more often.  However I expect the sobering moment of grief that shatters a lightened mood.  It's now part of who and how I am, and I accept this.

My stats for arriving at work on time (or close) are improving.

I'm oftentimes more chatty than normal.

Time makes no sense to me.

Fuck cancer.