It is 8:30 am now.  I still have not returned to work, due to back problems.  The damn birds are singing outside my window and it is another awful sunny spring day.  

It's been 2 months and a day since that terrible night when my wife died and my thoughts dwell continually on it. 

Here's how my days typically have gone in the last 2 months.  

--I wake early usually after 4 or 5 hours of restless sleep, I open my eyes and perhaps have 15 seconds before I realize my wife is gone forever.  Then morning anxiety kicks in, wondering what I will learn today or what new difficulty will be layered upon me.  

--Unless I have an appointment, I will lay in bed trying and hoping to go back to sleep.  If I can't I will continue to wallow in self pity, loneliness,  guilt, anger, or whatever negative emotional state I can conjure up, or peck on the keyboard writing this drivel that only a few people read or care about.

--Once I get out of bed I will drink some decaff coffee and attend to administrative duties, pay bills, make phone calls etc., and go out in my garage and cry and loudly call out to Cheryl  with hopeless hope that she will return to me.  

--Around noon I have been seeing my therapist.  I have seen her many times she knows my story inside and out.  Her advice has been to stop thinking so much about that night, distract myself, find activities, and other diversions.  From my point of view it's like being told to ignore that nuclear bomb that has just detonated in your back yard.  She listens to me though, at least it's something.  Leave and cry in my car while driving home.

--Afternoons have had my main activity of the day and include such things as, removing my wife's belongs (always good for some added agony), doctors appointments where they tell me they don't know exactly whats wrong with my back and to swallow a pill to treat a symptom without addressing the underlying cause, other work around house(I need to cut the grass today), and plenty of loneliness.

--Evenings, I try to call someone on the phone, grasping for human contact, looking for anyone to tell me that everything will be Ok or that I will get through this or that I will smile again.  After the phone call I am emotionally drained and end up laying on the sofa and many nights I feel somewhat calm, not good, just calm, without anxiety and fear.  

How I miss the me and his life before Cheryl died, where did he go?  Did he die with Cheryl?

I was thinking of Jesus crucifixion and resurrection.  Is it really a metaphor for the grief we suffer after the loss, the seeming unbearable pain of our loss analogous to being crucified, the 3 days in the tomb to the deep depression we feel, and the resurrection to the point that they say happens when we are ready to return to life?  I never heard a minister discuss it in those terms, it just crossed my mind this morning.  

Time to get out of bed, maybe today will be a day when I legitimately laugh or smile and not just fake it.