Approaching normal

Dear ones, 
written last night:

I’m closer to normal today. I got the mailbox keys! (My worry was stupid; the only thing needed was my driver’s license. ) With my key I could get my mail. While there, I checked out progress in my new home; the wood floor is nearly laid.  I went to the orthopedic clinic. (They told me not to run but to swim.)

The cloud around me is shifting. Part of me, most of me, doesn’t want to come back, would choose to live in a haze rather than in the real world without Clark. Everything I’m doing now is something I’d rather be doing with him. But I have no choice.  

My physical pain — the knee — and the everyday horror of moving, along with the recent fog of jet lag, all masked the pain of loss. Loss remains. I have time for it now. But Clark would never, ever want me — or you! — to be blanketed in sadness. He would say, “You have a new address, Kathleen. So do I.” Let’s think of the afterlife (which Clark, the philosophy student, considered a mystery that could very well be heavenly) as happiness. Clark is happy, and he absolutely wants us to be also. I know it’s true, and so do you. Sadness doesn’t overwhelm me.

And the best thing that happened today was having tacos at Patrick and Steph’s. 

Being normal makes me tired. Good night!