Day 42 -- The difficulty of good-byes

I never have been good at goodbyes.  Even though I have taught and counseled the importance of these mini-deaths, Margaret and I both would leave each others presence with some form of affirmation that we would be getting back together.  The name of the blog really reflects how that was for us.
Marcia really did a great job of going through lots of clothes, shoes, purses, belts, keepsakes, gloves and the myriad of things collected over 50 years, including residual from my Mom, and Margaret's Mom and Dad.  I was very pleased that a priority for Marcia was things she could wear and use -- knowing that her Mom always took Marcia into consideration when she would buy outfits.
Today was busy around the house -- I did have to sign some papers at the CU.  We went out to lunch at our new favorite place (Datz), had great conversation, and had to stop by Kalupa's so Marcia could take cubans (6!) to Aaron.  My last view of her was walking down the gateway, the Seattle duffle in her hand, along with the bag of Kalupa cubans.
Saying good bye was really tough.  Probably since my grief was so near the surface all weekend, I could not talk to say good bye.  Marcia was awesome -- she read my eyes and told me I was going to be OK -- she was right about what I was saying with my eyes, and she was right about my going to be OK.  I will always miss that from Margaret, and for Marcia to touch me with that reassurance really opened the floodgates.
Almost stopped the car a couple of times, going home, but did my superman imitation and realized what I really wanted to do was get home.  There I was safe, and could let whatever wanted out to bring it on!   It took a couple of hours to really affirm that Marcia was right, and thankfully when she called to tell me she was home, I could tell her so.  Grief is still my most pre-occupying thing right now.  Tomorrow is 2 months since Margaret died.  Two months of walking in a sunlight that does not have her shadow for comfort or support.  Two months of realizing that whether I like it on not, Margaret went Home and I am left with all the reminders of her.  I guess my sadness is the reminder that what we had together now only exists in my memory.  Perhaps it is too early to expect the sadness to be replaced with affirmation and joy.