Sunday, February 28, 2010

Can I Ever Enjoy Doing Us Things with Just Me?

Ten months after his death, I'm now almost done with the estate and financial issues and can begin to contemplate the next phase of my life. In recent weeks I've had the opportunity to do several things we did, always together, and I'm unsure whether these are things to enjoy or avoid. Sharing the experience together was, in many cases, what made them special; doing them alone just makes them hard to enjoy.

Divorced friends and family have had little to offer, in part because they've either moved to a different place or their shared experiences involved property or people who are now off limits. So, this is an issue I'm going to have to decide on my own, meaning decisions will come with each event. I've done some of the "us" things, consciously avoided others, but am unsure if either decision was the right one.

He loved snow--like a child can love snow. When a recent big storm hit all I could think of was how excited he would have been. He'd have insisted that I put on my boots after work so we could get on the subway and go downtown for Chinese and then a walk around on the quiet streets. I couldn't do it, and instead just took a quick walk around the neighborhood.

Movies are another challenge. I've gone to three by myself, with mixed results. What I miss most is the chance afterward to go out for coffee to talk about what we'd just seen. I know this would be easier if I invited friends, but this requires more planning that I've been able to accommodate because of the need to get other things done. But do I really want to do these things with someone other than him? I don't have an answer yet.

Vacation is the next big decision. Go where we went or some place new? Last year I did go back to our favorite place. It was an easy choice because I didn't want to play tourist or have to learn new restaurants. Now, I have the opportunity to go places I've never been, or alone or with him, and don't have a clue whether that would help or just remind me of the pervasive loneliness I confront every minute of every day.