Hi Shelby,
My back is feeling better today. Tomorrow's yoga outing should help as well.
I wish I could see Tom one more time as well. I wish I had been by his bedside when he passed - but I had no idea he was in that kind of trouble until I got the phone from the doctors in the middle of the night telling me he had been moved to ICU. By the time I got there, it was too late. There were no goodbyes or words of wisdom. Just a man in eternal sleep, the spirit slowly slipping away from him.
Right after Tom passed, I went through a panic. I could hear his daughter's snarky voice telling me I wasn't good enough/educated enough to talk to the doctors in the ICU (she's an RN) and that she would have asked this question or that question as a "trained professional". So I told the doctor to call her and tell her everything since I wasn't qualified. Anyway, I could hear her voice echoing through my head and I couldn't, for the live of me, hear Tom's voice. I was in tearful hysterics as I searched for old voicemails and there weren't any ... until I looked in my "deleted voicemail" folder and there was one message from 2014. He called me Sweetheart. I knew I had to save it to my computer so I did some research (I have an iPhone and a Mac) and found a $35 program that helped to transfer that voicemail to my computer and now it's in my iTunes folder - to be saved forever. And I can play it as often as I want. And I do find comfort in it.
Now I can hear his voice and his daughter's nasty little voice has faded ... as it should be.
Shelby, I want to say that you're not alone with your fears. There have been times when I have been crippled with fear myself. I thought I was grieving until a good friend told me that it sounded like fear to him. And after I sat back and thought about it, he was right. Me? I imagine myself as a turtle and I want to hide away in my shell. But I know I can't.
In our relationship, Tom was the outgoing, confident one. He spearheaded a lot of things. And me, in the role of his "buddy" (that was his nickname for me), I'd tag along. Now my leader and best friend are gone. And what the heck do I do now? Well, I'm listening more and more to that inner voice and taking my time, like you, to see what sparks my interest. But, also, when I'm faced with something I'm unsure of, I ask myself "what would Tom do?" He was a great teacher. And if I imagine him shoving my precious little behind out the door, then I have to push myself into doing the same thing.
There were many qualities I admired in him. And I'm trying to bring the best of him into my way of thinking and doing things.
The ultimate test for me? Getting in the car, by myself, and driving 18 hours (in two days) until I'm in Missoula, Montana. When I can finally do that, then I know I'll be okay. Until then, I just take it day by day.
Love you!!
Robin