On second thought, this is a stanza from the poem “Her Long Illness” by Donald Hall. This one has resonated with me the most so far.
He hovered beside Jane’s bed,
solicitous: “What can I do?”
It must have been unbearable
while she suffered her private hurts
to see his worried face
looming above her, always anxious to do
something when there was
exactly nothing to do. Inside him,
understood that if he was good — thoughtful,
reproach, perfect — she would not leave him.
Last night went much better than I had been anticipating. I found the lady’s office with no problem at all (I’d driven by the building many times before going to Springwater or Centennial Park). She was very nice and attentive and asked me questions whenever I would stop talking. She seemed to be surprised that I was seeking out help so soon after Matt’s suicide – she kept saying stuff like, “This is so new, Erin.” She also seemed to think that I’m doing the right things to cope – staying in touch with family/friends (even if it’s mostly through this blog), reading, crying, seeing her, etc. So I was glad to hear that, as a professional, she thinks I’m doing as good of a job as can be expected right now. I actually felt a little better after the session (which was helped by the fact that Ryan isn’t having to stay in Dickson indefinitely, I have to say).
Today, at this moment, I am not feeling so terrible. I have plans for tonight (helping Ryan clean up his place in White Bluff) and plans for tomorrow (hanging out with some old B&C coworkers). I’m not sure what I’ll be doing this weekend yet but I’m looking forward to being able to sleep in, anyway. I still constantly miss Matt but right now it isn’t making me so depressed.
When I got home from work yesterday, there were two packages on my front door – some flowers (thank you Vanny!! 🙂 ) and some books that I’d ordered from Amazon. The books are Crocheting on the Edge because there’s an awesome (https://picasaweb.google.com/107633384795586606813/MANTELLEPONCHO4#5386792157984952770) pattern for a blanket in there which I’m going to make with some yarn that Helen bought me. The other book is Without by Donald Hall. It’s a collection of poems that he wrote about his wife (Jane Kenyon)’s death. I’m really liking it so far and might post something here eventually. We’ll see.
Anyway, this is starting to seem very rambly to me and I don’t feel like proofreading and revising, so I’m done for right now.