The Heaviness of August

Grief depression this time of year sucks...but worth a few bad weeks

Hi, it’s me…haven’t been writing much except in comments and notes. No desire or drive to dive into developing anything… not really block, or matter of time. Actually, time is all I have lately, skipping pickleball and agility class. I’ve been caught up in the finals this week for DCI marching bands. Right now my grandson and his dad are driving home…he’s missed a week of school already. This weekend he was in Indy, his twin sister in South Georgia for softball tournament and big brother in North Carolina for ultimate frisbee tourney. I watched them all via streaming. The Corps groups at Lucas Oil lasted till midnight both nights and games start 8 AM weekend mornings. But I walk by seven and again just before dark just to move and breathe the breeze that clears my swirling mind.

All this ramble to say that I am very heavy right now. The heaviness of August, of my daughter keeping track of three teens, the worry when family is on the road, the missingness that comes this month every year…for eleven years now. I felt it coming on even before the calendar page turned. A sort of depression; tiredness all day long even though I sleep well at night, sitting too long scrolling Insta or playing my word games and forgetting the washer shut off and now it’ll need another rinse so all the wrinkles can disappear once they make it the dryer. No appetite and the fruits and veggies have gone bad and making a grilled cheese sandwich seems like so much work. I say Joan, ”you need to eat, you’ll feel better,” so I drive to nearby Culvers for a burger and fries and root beer float. Pure comfort food and too much salt and ice cream which I shouldn’t eat being lactose intolerant and only one kidney. I know better! I’ve been into all healthy choices and gluten free and no salt/low salt for years now. So now I’m more depressed because it feels like I’m not in control of my life right now. I cry at commercials and when I watch the kids’ events…how have these kiddos grown up so fast?! The older girls started texting me this past week; “thinking of you, Grandma.”

Tomorrow is my anniversary…

Happy 8 13 Babe! ❤️

Would be fifty-eight years!

You left too soon

I think through my tears.

I just need to get through this week…. through next Monday.

He died six days after our anniversary. It was Monday, August 19th, just like this August. So tomorrow on Tuesday will be the same night we celebrated our forty seventh. We went to the upscale Italian pizza place-Campania, in Alpharetta, GA where the menu is in Italian, but easy to figure out pepperoni pizza. We always split the spinach salad; huge with cherry tomatoes and feta cheese and slivers of carrots and almonds, best of all…they take the time to remove the stems! We had their best Cab and toasted each other. Usually, we had a back corner table but that night we were seated up front with a constant flow of customers coming and going behind him. It was hard to talk with the noisy crowds and Italian music playing overhead. I remember he was irritated and instead of lingering loving conversation, he just wanted to get home.

It was a normal week with him writing for health publications each day and me either substituting or writing my Gramcracker Crumbs blog. (Disabled and deleted when I discovered Substack.) Friday was his four-month doctor check-in for his diabetes and routine bloodwork. And then the glorious weekend when the three littles were dropped off so mommy and daddy could have a few days on their own. Grandpa loved these days…making colored pancakes in various shapes while the four-and-seven-year-olds stood on stools to watch him at the counter. We took them to the pool for hours, let them run through the sprinkler and play with neighborhood kids in the yard. The twins took turns sleeping with us in the big bed…one each night. Sunday after lunch, we were watching a movie when mom and dad showed up to collect them. It was a little tense as they wanted to keep watching but folks said, “no-time to go!) It was all so quick we might not have gotten last minute hug goodbyes. I remember being a bit sniffly… being in kidville and suddenly pulled back to adulthood is hard. We comforted each other with grown-up affection all afternoon.

A reel I made on Instagram for him…to Garth Brooks’ The Dance. You may have to hunt for it. https://www.instagram.com/jjstome/

I didn’t write for six months after he passed, then I wrote it all…raw and angry and sad. I shared it here about five months into joining Substack…when I realized there were other widow warriors writing about grief. Funny that it had so very many likes, but few if no comments. I had maybe 30-40 subscribers and few close connections…except dear

Mary Roblyn

who reached out right away. I learned that most widows here are newly so…for just a few years or less. Maybe I don’t fit. Maybe it’s been too long, and I should stop writing about him. But that is not true! I’ve shared it again below…maybe it will help someone this time. Grief never goes away! Days and weeks like I’m having is the price we pay for deep, enduring love. I will get passed this, I will get back to the courts, eat better, get my energy and enthusiasm up and running soon.

I stare at this, an old poster on my bedroom wall. I worked on it the first few years when we still had magazines and leftover scrapbooking stuff. It gives me things to strive for on down days…or a great greeting as I get out of bed ready for a brand-new day!

Thanks for being patient with me, especially new subscribers who haven't seen a thing from me except Welcome…did you read that? Can you tell I’m usually more upbeat?

Much love for sticking with me, my dearest friends… newest friends. ❤️🤗

Be well, be happy, be kind.

Joanie/Joan