More anxiety.

The anxiety comes in waves like the grief, the one fueling the other. What would be a minor event, a mere tickle of annoyance to a “normal” person has me hiding under the covers, fearful that I am going to come to harm. As the funeral approaches these events seem to be increasing. So many irrational worries about how I am going to cope. Fear of leaving the house, fear of having to so much as look at anyone else, “do I really have to be polite and shake your hand?”. Mike always said I underestimated my ability in social situations, that I shone when talking to people, I don’t want to shine, I want to find a rock and crawl under it. 

I know I will get through it, I have my children and some close friends who will support me on the day, no matter what is thrown at me. I know what Mike wanted from me, I know every little detail of what he wanted to happen after his death, the funeral, his ashes. There will be people who don’t agree with HIS decisions, it is my task to button my lip and  just carry on doing what he wanted. 

I’m glad we had the time we did to talk about his wishes. I’m glad that he told some of his friends what he wanted, avoiding the awkward situations to come. Mike’s strength of character has given me the surfboard that I need to ride those waves, I might just fall off occasionally.