Well, I gave it my best shot. I tried scream therapy, thinking that some extreme-loudness while in the shower would make me feel better.
The first scream was less than impressive - since I haven't done much screaming in my life, I'm just not very good at it. It was sort of squeaky, and my volume wasn't anything to be proud of. I still had lots of hot water left, so I gave it another go. Absolutely pathetic. Maybe I'm not doing it right (there's a "right" way to scream???), but I sounded like one of my cats when I accidentally step on her tail. More tries, sounding worse than better, and I suddenly thought about what Tom must be thinking: "The woman's gone completely nuts. Who screams in the shower??" Tom used to sing, badly, in the shower.
That thought brought a big smile. He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. But it was a good memory. Maybe scream therapy isn't going to work in the traditional sense, but since it brought me a small giggle and smile, I guess it's working backwards. That seems to be my story right now - so much of my life seems backwards since Tom died - so it must be okay to scream and then end up smiling at how stupid I must sound.
I've been staying busy with "stuff." Mostly it's things I have-to-do - paperwork, phone calls, re-arranging our accounts, etc. My brother has been here for several days, and is helping me with chores around the house, plus errands that must be done. I'm still mostly operating on auto-pilot, but I'm sure looking forward to that time when I can do some want-to-do-things instead. Soon. Maybe. Right now, auto-pilot is keeping me going. That's okay.
After reading Tom's obituary, several of you wrote me asking how you can donate in Tom's memory towards his Masonic Lodge, or how you can help with funeral expenses. Thank you for your kind offers. I'll leave the "Helping Tom" PayPal donate button up for another week for those who wish to help. If you could specify which is your preference - Tom's Masonic Lodge or funeral expenses - I'd appreciate it.
Thanks for all your wonderful support. It's been a rough 18 months. After my stroke, Tom and I decided that God must have a plan. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. Little did I know that God's plan was to have me take care of Tom while he battled cancer. This past year allowed me to find courage in the face of true adversity, and to love Tom even more than I thought possible. Sometimes, when you think you are dealing with the worse possible situation, you actually find out that good things can come out of bad. It definitely happened for us.
And now, off to bed for me. There's an emergency candy bar waiting on my nightstand. Chocolate has become my new best friend.