One good thing about having a cold. You can go ahead and cry and people will just attribute your puffy eyes and blotchy face as another manifestation of that disease. I’ve been doing a lot of crying lately. As much or more as when the death happened. I know there is no time limit on grief, I still think of my mother and tears well up in my eyes, and she’s been gone 30 years. I’ve actually known Robo longer than I knew my mother, 31 years versus 22 years. So naturally his death hit me hard.
Problem is, two days after it happened, I ended up in the hospital for a week with a raging foot infection (I am a diabetic in denial and taking care of Robo took all of my energy and focus and left none for looking after my own medical issues). It couldn’t be ignored any longer, and I was in danger of losing my foot or at least a part of it. The doctors and nurses took really good care of me and fought to get my out-of-control blood sugar readings down to a manageable level. I had enough sense to know that if I did NOT get my blood sugar under control, the infection would win, or it might return at some future date, so vigilance was the order of the day. After eight days in the hospital and the amputation scare, and with another six weeks of at-home IV antibiotic therapy ahead of me, I became a “born-again diabetic.” I started trying to eat on a regular schedule, eat healthier foods, swore off all fast food and sugar. That was the easy part since I wasn’t too big on sweets anyway. Robo was the one with a sweet
To add to that, I had to plan the entire funeral from my bedside at St. Luke’s Hospital. Thank heaven for the understanding staff and their fax machine. I got it all done. I was discharged from the hospital after eight days, went home to three times a day IV therapy, and attended the ceremony, which was beautiful, as those things go.
I think that all of the events that happened right after his death, my hospitalization, arranging the funeral, the service itself, allowed me to push the reality of his death to the back of my mind and now that life has settled into some amount of normalcy and routine, those feelings are rushing to the forefront and have to be dealt with.
The first night I was back at my job, I was blindsided by emotion as I exited the garage for the drive home. This was the first time I would be driving home from work to an empty house. No Robo calling me at 10:55 to place his dinner order, no one to answer back “Glad to have you home!” to my “Robo, I’m home now!” No settling in, getting drinks and dividing up food and watching our favorite TIVO’d shows together, me prattling on about my evening and he pretending to listen.
I find myself starting to cry, with nothing specific triggering the tears, when I’m stopped in traffic, or when I’m typing a document at work. In the shower which was built specifically for him (it’s a spacious roll-in shower), when I take my own bath, I remember how much he loved those showers, how refreshed he felt afterward, what a mess of soggy towels and steamed over mirrors he left in his wake, how he would sing in the shower. I miss all those things.
But mostly I guess I Just. Miss. Roberto.