I’ve had some speed bumps lately. Actually, they aren’t even speed bumps, they are the even less steep speed humps. But for me in my current state of broken mind, they feel like a mountain that only the most skilled and prepared experts would dare to attempt to climb. I am no expert. I am neither skilled nor prepared.
I have never had need for an attorney before, but now facing the uncertainty of the probate process there are some decisions that must be made that I am ill equipped to handle. This is scary. I had been operating under the assumption that my primary responsibility would be wading my through this impossible grief journey and all the other details would sort themselves out somehow. That sort of thinking was naive and uninformed. It is time to get my hands dirty in paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork.
I keep asking myself how this can all be happening. My life was pretty damn good. I had a wonderful husband that expressed every day how much he loved me, that thought of me first above all others, including himself. He was a good man. I know it is natural when someone passes to raise their life and contributions to this world to the level of a near deity. My husband was not perfect, but that doesn’t matter. He was perfect for me. I always felt like I took care of him and required someone to look out for in order to be happy. These last several weeks it has become clear that we took care of each other in a positive, symbiotic sort of way. We were never alone because we had each other. We made each other laugh in even the most stressful times. Every time we fought I always told him “We are not fighting because I don’t love you, we are fighting for our relationship because I love you so much.” Now I have nothing left to fight for besides myself, and I don’t even know who that is any more. It is just another leg of my journey up Everest.