Two months since his death.

It has been nearly two months since my husband of 32 years died from the results of Frontotemporal Degeneration (FTD - Dementia).

Many people have asked me, "How are you doing?" That is such a normal but unusual question to ask someone who is going through such a transition.  Here are some answers that swirl through my brain that never meet my lips as an answer to this well-meaning question:

Warning:  the following thoughts are unfiltered :)

• I am doing just fine, thank you.
• How do you think I'm doing?  I just lost my husband?
• I feel great because I am no longer a caregiver responsible for someone else's every breath, diaper and cost to keep them in a Memory Unit!
• I am happy that I can now start my life over!
• I'm scared because I am alone for the first time in my life!
• I am confident that I can take care of myself since I've been taking care of myself AND Gary for many years.
• I want to go on another vacation.
• I want to find the second man of my dreams and live happily ever after!
• Go screw yourself, do you just want to see me cry?
• Everyday I feel more stress leaving my body.
• Why does God put certain people in our lives and then take them away?

One feeling that has not really crossed my heart is that of grief.  While at Canyon Ranch, I spent time with a grief counselor who was able to get a smidgen of tears out of me and for that moment, I needed the relief.  However, the five years of hell that Gary and I lived through prepared me for a life without him.  I am confident that is the case.

I had a meeting with a member of Alzheimer's Orange County yesterday and I will begin work as a sponsorship chair for a Caregivers Recognition Event in September.  It is time to start giving back. 

This week, I drove past the Memory Unit where Gary lived for 1.5 years.  During many weeks, I was there everyday.  As my car passed the street that turned into the building, I kept driving.  I had no inclination to stop.  That part of my life is over.  I smiled and kept driving.  

It is my hope that someday there will be a cure for the nasty, evil disease.  In the meantime, I wish well to all the other family members and caregivers in this world who need incredible support.