The Death Diet

Take one mom, well, take MY mom, away, then look at a plate of food and try to eat. Try to think about food, try to put the fork to your mouth, try to chew. Then try to swallow. Then try the whole darn thing over again. And again. Try to calm your stomach and intestines down to a normal routine, try to care about eating, or sleeping. Try not to run away from your grief.

I lay in Kari's bed, needlepointing one of the pictures Mom had given me when she couldn't see to do the work anymore. Steve came in, all happy and peppy, trying to cheer me up. He kept at me, teasing, until I rubbed his shoulder gently and asked him if he was okay, if there was anything he needed. He said no, then asked me if I was okay. He just sat there, seriously (which is sort of rare for him), until I started crying. I thought I was okay. I told him I needed him to gentle with me for a year. He asked if I was serious, and I said yes. He said, "You can't outrun grief," and I said I was in pretty good shape, so I'd probably be able to run for quite a while. Washing the car, mailing the packages, grocery shopping, cleaning and organizing, never stopping, my brain zooming along into the early hours of the morning, shutting off for a few blessed moments until it turns on again. I can hear my head buzzing.

Then I realize when I'm stressed out I organize my outside world, as if that somehow will calm and organize my insides. It doesn't, really, but it sure makes the outside world a little neater. I'm keeping up with my deadlines and obligations, responsibilities and duties - Bill got his absessed tooth pulled this afternoon, with me holding his hand and telling him to belly breathe. I'm baking sausage, peppers and penne pasta for dinner (Bill's favorite) and baking rhubarb crunch to take to Uncle Jerr's on Saturday. We're going to Chitra and Ajit's barbecue tomorrow night, and hopefully Carolyn's party tonight. Am I running? Maybe, or maybe I just want to be doing things. Okay, I'm probably running, because when I stop to just sit, I start thinking about things. I may call the funeral home to see about grief counseling, or call Tom or Mary Holtey - I know they know what's what. I probably need some help dealing with the trauma of the last year.

But it IS interesting to note that that 10 pounds of stress weight that I slowly put on last year has instantly vanished in the last 6 weeks, along with my appetite. Oh, don't worry - I'm eating all fresh vegetables and fruit, and lots of water, but that's about it. I just can't handle anything more right now. Maybe I'll start worrying if I lost another 5 pounds. The Death Diet, sheesh. I certainly wouldn't recommend it to anyone.