1. Seeing/being around couples.
Being around people who are in love, or married, is really difficult. Especially when I see them being affectionate with each other or talking to each other closely. Immediately I am wishing he was here when I see this happen, and reminded that I don't have that anymore. Even if they are arguing about something I'm thinking 'I really wish he was here so I could give him a hard time about something'. Or I want to tell the couple to take a break and remember that they love each other and one of them could be gone at any moment.What a downer I am. That doesn't mean I won't be around them, since that would mean I can't be around most of my family and friends. But I find myself walking away when being around them starts to be hard for me.
2. Thinking about the future.
I'm typically a person who thinks about the future a lot. I'm a planner, by nature. I like to look out on the horizon and know what we've got going on in the future. Trips, events, major things we wanted to or should do. House projects and kids stuff. On 4/20 my ability to do that crumbled. I have a hard time even looking ahead to the end of the current day, let alone think about tomorrow, next week, next month or next year. Because he is no longer a part of the future, except in spirit. So now when I think about the kids birthdays, holidays coming up ,or other things it's a reminder, yet again, that he won't be here for any of it. And rather than plan and think about it, I choose to ignore it. Just a warning to most of my family and my kids: This year is going to suck for birthdays and major holidays in general. I know I won't be able to plan much for any of it, so they will not be major productions.
3. Striking up conversations.
It's hard to make small talk now with people who don't know me well, or at all. I am reminded of this when I'm in out in public because casual conversations always seem to go the way of family (since that's a huge part of all of our lives). Many times I simply talk about my husband as though he's still here with us. Because the other option is to tell people what happened and bring the entire group down with me, and then the conversation will center around that for the rest of the time which is exactly what I don't want. So when someone says "Are you married?" the answer is yes. "What does he do for work?" he's a mechanic. But it's really hard to sit and hear people talk about their husbands or boyfriends and plans they have or things they are doing together because I can't be a part of that conversation. And again, I get reminded that he's not here anymore. Most of my plans coming up all have to do with things we are doing to memorialize Mike.
4. Being in public places or at events around my town or work.
It's inevitable living in a small town and having worked at a place for a long time that most people know what's happened. And they talk about it. A lot. And that's OK - if this happened to someone I knew I am certain I would do the same thing. But when I'm out in public, or at events, or at work I know and can tell it's the first thing that is on peoples minds and that they are talking about me. Not in a bad way mind you, but in that shock value way where no one can believe what's happened and they are curious and wondering about me, about the kids, about everything. And there are times I feel like the entire room around me is moving in slow motion and I am standing in the middle with no escape. And I can see people lean into each other and look my way. "Is that her?" "Yes, it's so tragic". I'm "the one who lost her husband". And that is hard, and uncomfortable. And I look forward to a time when I'm not 'that person' anymore, but know that it will probably last for quite some time.
There are plenty more things I can add to this list, but for now these 4 are big ones I've noticed the past few weeks.
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