I've gone back to listening to lectures at work. For awhile I'd stopped. I think it's something I do when the noise in my head gets too intense to listen to for more than an hour at a time.
Last Christmas wasn't fun. I simply couldn't get into it. I didn't want a tree or presents, I didn't bake Christmas cookies. I didn't want any summer sausage or peppermint meltaways. I ended up buying a box of dark chocolate covered cherries and crying into the box. I know they're stupid one dollar candies from Wal-mart, but out of all the candies that come around at Christmas, they're my favorite. I used to buy them three or four boxes at a time, and when we were mad at each other, my husband and I would leave boxes of them out as peace offerings. There were usually stacks of these goofy boxes all over the house and in the freezer. We didn't always get along, but we were always trying to make-up.
Jack passed away a little under two years ago, right before our 28th anniversary, and it's taken me this long to say it. I don't like this time of year and I can't stand chocolate-covered cherries. I broke out in full body hives from head to toe on the anniversary of his death and carry Benadryl around like a life preserver.
I thought I'd worked through the grief spasms, but they're back. When I started working again, I had to come clean. I'd be working or thinking, and a song would come on the radio, or someone would say something and I'd start to cry.
People have started eying me again, like I'm going crazy, and one or two brave souls have tried telling me I should be over it. Like Jack was a dog that ran away, or a shoe I lost while hiking. He wasn't the nicest person, and he had serious issues, but whenever we went out together, even if it was to the grocery store--we'd hold hands. And I miss him.