Last week and possibly the week before, my daughter, Merry Jennifer, and Truett's oldest daughter, Tina, and I met with the funeral home directors and chatted with Pastor Tate from the First United Methodist Church in Lake City, Florida. We sat on my front porch and told story after story about Truett's life. We laughed and we teared up. Days melded into each other. I would look at my phone to see what the date was and which day it was. Life became a blur. A necessary blur. I paid bills late and thought, "Ha! So charge me the fee." Nothing became important except being with my family.
The viewing took place last Thursday and the "Celebration of Life" service took place last Friday. Wonderful events. Friends from far and near came to celebrate Truett's life. Friends comforted me and my family. Friends brought food throughout the week; and Friday, after the church service, the Fort White Public School teachers brought delicious food and lilterally took over my kitchen, serving my family and guests. "Go enjoy your family," they would say. "We've got this covered." I'm just now putting kitchen things away and wondering, "What did they cook in the crock pot? Four pot holders? How did they ever reach my coffee? It's way too high in the cabinet."
I felt I was way too jovial during last week's gatherings. I felt I smiled and laughed too much. I felt I had a twinkle in my eye that probably shouldn't have been there. I didn't cry. I was estatic to see so many friends who cared about my husband. I hugged everyone and they hugged me.
But, I think I'm crashing now. Today I went to a movie with my sister, Susan, and Merry Jennifer. We saw "The Monuments Men." It was a good movie. However, as I drove familiar roads to Gainesville . . . roads I have driven since 2011, I found I was feeling a sense of despair. An emptiness. A loneliness. Memories flooded my brain and I wanted to yell, "NOOOOOO!"
For weeks my world was turned upside down.