I have greatly underestimated two things in my time on this planet: how truly devastating grief can be and how much people hate Hillary Clinton.
Last weekend I went to Vermont. I kept pretty quiet about it to many, but the real reason for that trip was to spread the last of Tim’s ashes mixed with BT’s in a place that was special to us there. I may blog about that, and I may not. While my trip was also filled with friends and fun activities (that I will blog about), as my plane home took off over the mountains I started what can best be described as a complete emotional breakdown. The physical remains of the person I loved most in the world were gone. There was nothing left. I cried the entire flight.
When I got home, I wrote something about it all and sobbed. It was like he had just died, and my body physically shut down from the grief all over again. I woke up puking in the middle of the night, brushed eye shadow on my swollen eyes the next morning and scraped my ass for work because if I have learned anything it is that life goes on without pause.
Then two nights later, I watched the election in horror. At an event with a lot of members of the Austin LGBTQ community, I felt sick to my stomach again as they turned to each other and asked, “What is going to happen to our marriages? What is going to happen to us?”
The complete truth is that I will not be effected all that much from this election, not in a deeply personal sense. Yes my reproductive rights are at stake, but there are other groups who are far more in jeopardy than myself. I worry for them, and I mourn for an ideal that – at least last night – was not upheld.
But this isn’t a political post. This is a post to say that soon I’ll show you the treasure that is the Dog Chapel, and share fun blogger adventures in Vermont in the future. Right now however, I am mourning. I’m mourning my husband who I finally realize is physically lost to me forever, and I’m mourning something bigger and intangible that is yet to be defined.