A Long Day into Night

I made it to the gym this morning—but I slept in. I think I put my trainer out a little bit. But I can't blame her. She was expecting me, and I was almost half an hour late. It's still hard for me to get out of bed in the morning. And the dogs usually wake me up if the alarm goes off and I don't get up. But they didn't this morning. But it's a rainy day, too. So I guess they didn't want to get up either. Still, I'm blaming them.

This coming Monday, August 17, would've been Al's and my 19th anniversary. On the 25th, he would've been 51. So I'm beginning my sad time of year—from now until New Year's. 

It's going to be a long day.

What do I do?

Al would've been 50 years old today. I wish I could wish him a happy birthday, but I guess I can't really do that now, can I? Sometime I think about his ashes. I still have them--some in an urn and some in a plastic container because all of his ashes wouldn't fit in a typical urn. I always intended to spread the ashes somewhere in Canaan Valley--that was his favorite place on earth. I remember when the funeral home called and said they just couldn't get him a regular-sized urn and that many times the family chooses to spread the remaining ashes--I thought that would be perfect. But since then I have never been able to let him go. I hang onto the ashes because then I still have him--well, not whole like when he was alive. He's just in a couple of different containers in a bookcase in my bedroom, that's all. But he's still there. (I should say that Al wasn't a fat guy. He just had incredibly large bones. In fact, I had donated his bone marrow and they actually took his hip and thigh bones, and he still wouldn't fit in a regular-sized urn. Now those were some big, ole strong bones.)

Maybe I should let go of the ashes. Maybe it would help me let go of him. I think I'm still hanging onto him. Why? I know he's not coming back. He's not going to need his ashes. I was just thinking: if he does come back, he's going to be really pissed that I gave his suits to charity last Christmas--and I threw out all of his underwear. But what is real? He's not coming back. So what do I do? Figure out how to move on.

As far as exercise goes, I did not go to the gym this morning either. My knee is swollen and stiff. But I've got to keep it moving. So I'll go back tomorrow. And I'll go back to work, too. I just needed a day to collect myself.