Where the hell is normal, and how do I get there from here?

I'm so tired. I am physically drained to the point of falling asleep sitting here in this chair. I am emotionally drained to the point of simply wanting to curl into a ball and wish the world away. I had no idea, there was so much involved in this, as if losing my husband wasn't bad enough, all of this other mess is very overwhelming. Fighting my way through this, one step at a time, is a battle that I would not wish on my worst enemy.

 I've dealt with his death so far away and getting him home. Having to sit here and plan his celebration of life services and burial. I've spoken with insurance people and gone to the probate office. I have talked with the people over his pension plans. I have been blest, in that every single person that I have spoken with has been considerate, compassionate, respectful and so very helpful. I have had friends answering my questions and offering advice.  Still, through it all, I want to stand in the middle of nowhere and scream until I can scream no more. I want to start walking and walk until my feet will no longer carry me. I want to throw things and pound on things and act like an out of control toddler. I want this to be a nightmare that I will suddenly awaken from and find my husband staring at me, asking me if I'd had a bad dream. I want it to be like that Dallas episode where suddenly there Bobby is in the shower only its my husband, all well and good and complaining because I forgot to buy any of the bath soap he prefers. Instead, I can only wonder one thing.

Where the hell is normal and how do I get there from here?

 I can't find it at work, even as I go about my job. As I preform my regular duties and make sure all that is needed done, is accomplished to the best of my ability. I can find minuscule pieces of it, but even that is a struggle. One minute I'm in the process of one thing or another and suddenly I'm fighting the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.

 I can't find it at home, there are way too many memories. Every room there he is, on the couch watching a movie yet again. On the porch in his chair drinking coffee, in the kitchen raiding the fridge even as he talks about going to get something to eat.

 I find a certain amount of peace at church, but everyone asks about how we're doing and if we need anything.  I don't know how to answer that. We're making it day by day. We do need things, but I'm not asking for anything because they have taken such good care of us, I feel as if I would be taking advantage if I asked for anything more.  Well except flowers, so many have offered me flowers from their own yards and I've appreciated that so much as I do love flowers.

 But yet, even when I'm trying to distract myself by taking care of my flower or vegetable garden, he is there as well. He always made comments on my gardens, on how well they were or were not doing. He was always trying to help, even to the point of accidentally mowing down two of my mother's rose bushes. Amazing thing that, they came back and are blooming. With each shovel full of dirt I move, with every plant or bulb or seed I drop into the ground, I think of him.

 When I'm driving, as I watch the road, as I watch the cars around me, I hear you, telling me where to go, how to get there, what mistakes I'm making. Then I hear you asking, "you're ignoring me aren't you?" yep. Yes, I know you're the professional driver. Yes, I know you do that for a living. Yes, I know how difficult it is to jockey one of those big rigs around. But, yes, I'm going to drive the way I want to drive. I'm going to drive as close to the edge of the road as I can because of people who like to straddle the center line. I'm going to drive int he lane I want, because its easier for me to get where I want to be with less lane changes. His voice a constant in my ear.

 As I try to sleep, he invades my dreams. My mind won't rest, my heart aches and I waken repeatedly through the night. I draw his pillow close or I find myself restless, thrashing about, moving about in the bed as I fight the memories and the knowledge of my loss.

 All I can do, all I can seek, all I can ask again and again.

 Where the hell is normal? And how do I get there from here?

 I have not cried since right after I found out. I stay on the verge of tears but they do not fall. My heart aches with the emptiness. My lungs feel as if they will burst from the lack of air, breathing gets difficult and the weight on my chest a burden I cannot shake. I want to get away. I want to go somewhere, but you would probably be there waiting. You loved the Gatlenburg area. You loved Myrtle Beach and even the Outer Banks of NC.  I can't hide in the house forever, and yet I can't ask people to let me tag along. I don't know that I'm ready, or if they are.

Where is normal...will I ever really find it again?