Going Solo

Day 1 of 30 Days of Cory begins now.




Yesterday, I wore the Tinga-Lay-Oh blankie sweater to work, and- because props make any story more interesting- carried in a horsehead on a stick that made wonderful galloping noises and snuffled mightily when you squeezed his ear.  Yes, yes I did.  Like a complete lunatic, I made the rounds of my co-workers' offices, often just peeking the horse's head into the gap of their doorway.  I began the soundtrack, then with a dramatic sleep of sweater fabric, sang a "Tinga-Lay-Oh, Run Little Donkey Run"  accapella. 


Was this a ritual?
 Hell yeah!  To slip into my alter ego as Cory's long time companion/partner in crime, fully embracing her particular brand of silly improv and zany humor was much the same as slipping my hand into hers without even having to look down. 
Even today, a much different sort of day, I could feel remnants of her presence out there in the hallway, and just talking about our antics brought a smile to my face.




Remembering your loved one is different from missing them, you know.  For me, at least, there's a certain lingo to this grief business.  Missing Cory is the overwhelming wave of sadness, loneliness, and emptiness that descends on me at any time.  It is the black cloud that follows above and behind me.  It is pain that must be endured, as long as I draw breath.


Sometimes, I don't just miss her, though, I want her!  When I say I want her, I am feeling that raw animal pain that means even though I'm hurting, I might not accept or even want help.  It means I am keening for her, longing, desperate, and out of control.  When I want Cory, I am most likely to act impulsively or cope in a way that might be harmful. 
 
But remembering Cory...remembering Cory is something I initiate, not something I endure.  It is positive; it honors her; and it brings comfort.  But it's something I can do only when my brain is calm enough to plan meaningful actions, and follow through with them.


I think the goal here is to take good care of myself, so that someday I find myself actively remembering Cory more than simply carrying the pain, and feeling like I would give anything to be out of this.