We’re adjusting, Stewart and I, to this new world we live in. One where he patiently waits (or doesn’t) for me to get up and fix his breakfast. One where I get emails and phone call reminders for items on the “to-do” list for Ken’s estate. One where there are lists and lists of things to sort through… and no motivation to do them.

But together, we are learning we can “do this hard thing” as Carrie Newcomer sings. We are managing because of the community of friends and family around us. Since I was away on a recent trip, the cat sitter provided TLC for Stewart. (He sort of forgave me when I got back…) My family provided reassurance and love to rest and reset. My friends have been sounding boards and walking companions.

Resiliency is a lot of what helps me cope with all of the changes. Resiliency to keep the ‘big picture’ in mind as I deal with bills and phone calls. At times, the particulars appear to be arbitrary. For instance, I was stunned to learn that my Medigap insurance would rise by $35 a month in 2024 because I was no longer in a household with two people over 65. You can bet I was annoyed! My broker worked with me to find other options. Statistically, I’ve had a double whammy: Ken’s death and my cancer (still in remission). It makes underwriters nervous, I guess.

Other adjustments come as I gain insights into a situation or practice. There are, simply put, miles of red tape. There are legal restrictions related to the refund checks that have come in with his name on them… so I can’t cash them as I usually would.

I’d love to say I handle all this “just fine” with a smile and a prayer. I don’t.

I get mad. I fight a wave of sadness mixed with frustration, having a cry when I need one, or a vigorous walk around my yard to vent a little… I try to self-calm without self-medication. It’s amazing what sitting in a pile of leaves can do for my heart.

I cry. From all of my experience and training, I know this is a temporary situation. That doesn’t make it sting any less, but honoring my feelings does help me cope with the mini-waves of grief.

I try to find creative things to do as an outlet for my emotions. So far, I’ve been painting, coloring, and sewing. I started a jigsaw puzzle. I’m knitting/crocheting. I’m walking three times a week, weather-permitting.

Why share all this? Because I think there are adjustments in a grieving person’s life that are not necessarily visible to the casual observer. Maybe it’s a perspective you hadn’t noticed before. It’s another instance where the bereaved person needs understanding and listening, not suggestions or solutions. (Unless they ask for advice, that is.)

Stewart and I are settling in for a quiet early winter’s evening. I’ll do some knitting. He’ll purr and occasionally “assist” with the yarn. And we will adjust and get through it. One day at time. God’s grace is sufficient.