I just finished watching the movie "Philadelphia”. Drawn to the movie by the reported outstanding performance for both Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington by wanted to see the movie for myself. Little did I realize that the movie would stir so many memories and regrets. I suppose that this is to be expected considering where I am with my own recovery with grief. I found myself asking and berating myself with why I didn't do so many things with and for Margaret that seem so appropriate in the movie. Margaret told me before we were married that my mother had told her she would have to take care of me to. I think I resented that at the time, and probably made it quite difficult for Margaret to do what she wanted to do in terms of taking care of me. She was magnificent and never let me forget that even in the toughest times we were together she was there -- supportive and caring and sometimes furious with me. I look back now and count with great sorrow those times that I took her love and caring for granted. As I was washing shirts tonight and missed the timing on getting them out of the dryer-which means I will have to do some ironing-I thought about how I was having to learn timing that is part of getting the laundry done–something I've always counted on Margaret to do. I realized that just doing the laundry is a whole new constellation of behavior that I'm having to learn and that I have a superb model to follow. I'm also very much aware that I did not spend a lot of time observing and participating in that model so that my learning would be different now.
Christian Jamie and Ally came by to sign tax papers and Christian give me a hand with the cabling to the television in the bedroom. After they left I really felt alone–and have come to realize that that's time when I rumbled through those memories that are painful and are of me being something other than what I wanted to be. During those times it is terribly hard to accept the fact that in the midst of all of that Margaret was there–loving me and encouraging meand proud of me: I never said thank you and I love you enough. I was not a very outwardly grateful guy–it seemed that I was compelled to stay within the shell as a universal defense against being hurt or left.
Now Margaret is gone–she did it her way! In those last days I refused to acknowledge that she was leaving and the only thing I know to do about that is to wallow in past regrets. I hope that when I read this draft tomorrow, I will see Margaret shining through encouraging me to go on with the next adventure. Though difficult to let that light shine on me right now I know that whatever the adventure she's with me and that from this point forward it is my challenge to care for me and make the adventure mine.
