Who Will Be Strong for Me?

In the 10 months since Hal died, no one has ever wrapped their arms around me and held me while I cried.

There are a couple of reasons for this:  The first is that I was trying to be strong for my relatives.  My family members were still reeling from my mother’s death and had pretty much come out to Virginia for Hal’s memorial immediately after attending my mother’s memorial in Texas.  We all sat around, dry-eyed for the most part–I, my father, my sister and two aunts–none of us willing to collapse and force another grieving relative to set aside his or her own pain in order to comfort us.

That left as my only option a friend on whose shoulder I could cry, and I have none.  My social circle consisted of people with whom I was friendly but only saw at Toastmasters meetings or writers groups and Hal’s friends.  The latter evaporated from my life within days of Hal’s death.  The former spoke to me on the phone–a few came to the memorial–but none came to the house, nor did I ask them to.

The one exception is Cindy, who helped me invest Hal’s insurance money so I could have an income to live on and made herself available for advice and assistance when I had to deal with things like the ill treatment I received from my bank.  She and her husband have become my movie buddies.  I worry now that I will become too dependent on her, that I will need too much and make her regret her decision to befriend me, so I don’t let her see me at my worst.

This weekend, when I was at one of my lowest points since Hal died, when I wondered whether I would simply die from the grief and even half-wishing that I would, there was no one I could call to come over and comfort me.  I had to endure the pain alone.

And even if I had called someone, how could she have helped?  Hal and I got rid of our sofa in favor of two recliners because neither of us was comfortable in our bed, him because of his illness and me because of my weight.  If someone had come to the house and offered up her shoulder, where could she do that?  Nowhere in my house can I sit side-by-side with another person.  I suppose that says something about me.

Yesterday I made an appointment with my therapist, whom I haven’t seen in about five years.  He has a sofa in his office.  This is what I’m down to: paying for comfort by 50-minute therapy hour.