Yesterday was a day not like any other day for me. It was a day that stood out. In one of my previous posts I have written about how hard and difficult this year is for me in the sense that it is a year of firsts. Yesterday morning was one such morning. There was no particular significance to the day other than the fact that my car broke down over the weekend and I had to drive it to the mechanic early morning. I still drive my husband’s car, and as I drove through the familiar streets I felt a headache coming and my throat was so dry and tight.
As I stood outside the garage waiting for my car to be fixed, I felt so low and close to tears. I was in an overly sentimental state. There were too many memories everywhere around me and I thought I saw my late husband coming toward me on these streets, smiling. The image I had in my mind was so vivid and real that it made it unbearable for me to stand outside alone, watching people walk past and cars drive by.
The morning was damp and gray. And at some point it started to drizzle turning the dull gloom of the morning into something more dreadful. I felt an empty tension, an uncertainty, extremely unpleasant, and a vague need to cry. On days like yesterday I don’t know what to do with myself, except I know I don’t want to sink into a deadly depression.
On days like yesterday I strongly wish that I was working. I wish I had some kind of schedule to follow. But at the same time I wish to stay wrapped up in the past. Part of me does not want to budge. A big part of me surely does not want to create a new present that would push all my memories and everything back into the distance.
On the other hand I know that only work can help me emerge from this emptiness. Only work can help me get out of my deepest state of depression and help me come to terms with his absence. Work and the present, not the past, not the future. I am scared to think what the future holds for me. But I know for a fact that it’s only in the present that I have to find some kind of meaning and peace again. It works this way: one day after another I will have to manage to get to the end of the day- and the days will then make up weeks and months. And I can wait. I will wait. To quote Simone de Beauvoir:
“I thought back to the so many waits I have known, of how at first, one would like to hurry up time to have the moment arrive faster, and then little by little slow it down because when the moment seems to be gone, one has lost one’s chances.”