I am exhausted from grief.
I went to pick up a few groceries and thought, Can I do this menial task without the trauma and stigma of being a widow? Can I go one minute without the inundating memories that tear at my heart and leave me weak, exhausted and wounded?
I started walking towards the store, distracted by my thoughts (as usual). I realized, Oh! I forgot my bags! So, I went back to car for them. I walked into grocery store feeling frazzled and so tired...
I walked along the isles forgetting where everything is, circling the store three times for a very small list of basic items. I was so distracted by memories of Lynn that I couldn't figure out how to function in the world around me. I tried to smile at people, thinking, Lynn would have talked to that person. He would have struck up some casual conversation that would of went on forever, driving me a little bonkers, leaving that person feeling loved, touched, and special, in the end.
Me, I just smile shyly and walk on by, praying in my heart, Bless you!
I went through the Natural Section, only getting what I needed, knowing Lynn would have, pulled out his IPod, generated all kinds of new food ideas, excited about ethical food companies and whatnot, ending up with at least triple the amount of product in our grocery cart. He was energized by the idea of supporting the causes of some of these companies. His energy grew in the excitement of new food ideas, new recipes to try, new ingredients to substitute. Sigh... our budget always flew out the window at the grocery store. Oh! Lynn's adventures of food and cooking!
I was stopped short in the section filled with cross-cultural delicacies - the Indian food products lining the shelves, the Thai seasonings, etc. I grabbed something off the shelf, just needing to buy it for the sake of Lynn!! (and my own enjoyment) Then hanging my head, I set it back on the shelf. I sadly turned away and stuck to my small basic-need list.
I smiled at the cashier and thanked her by name. Lynn's Dad had taught him to always call people by their name. It ministers to people in a profound way and has often been the inroad for meaningful conversations with everyday people we come into contact with.
Leaving the store, I arrived at my red corolla. My mind still wandering, my insides aching, I pressed the pop-trunk button on my car key... and kept pressing it... Suddenly I realized, This is not my car! I was standing behind a different red corolla and mine was three cars down. I was just close enough for any onlooker to see this idiotic woman continually pushing her key while her trunk opened three cars down. :)
Oh, Lynn. Are you laughing, too?