I thank you all for hundreds (I haven't counted — might be thousands) of condolence notes and let me make the following clear: I am fine. Honest. The loss of Carolyn was a long, wrenching, maddeningly-inevitable process and I did most of my mourning and crying in increments along the way.
I was sad when she could no longer walk. I was even sadder when she could barely talk. Well before Sunday night when she finally stopped breathing, I had lost my Carolyn. She was alive the last few days only on a technicality. I'm sure everyone who's "been there/done that" will understand how one of the many emotions that accompanied her official passing was a sense of relief — for myself as well as for her. The last week or two redoubled or maybe retripled my hope that by the time my death is looming, there'll be a legal, mature process via which I can elect to opt out of the final, painful months.
It may be different for you but I cope with tragedy by hurrying to normalize my life. My view is that when you lose a loved one, it is not necessary to grieve and mourn and be in pain for a long period of time. I have seen people do this because, it seemed to me, they thought that was expected of them; that it was somehow disrespectful of the deceased not to visibly suffer for their absence. I tell people who lose mates or parents or close friends, "You don't have to do that. You don't have to sick yourself up and damage your own life to prove you loved them."
You can if you want to but you don't have to. When I go, I hope all my friends and loved ones really, really miss me for about an hour and then go on with their lives. The last thing I'd want to do is harm those lives. If there's any sort of memorial service for me, I may leave a letter for someone to read aloud. It would essentially say, "Get over me." (Note: That is not the same as "Forget me.")
Carolyn was just so splendid in mind and spirit. Experiences we shared and feelings I felt will be with me forever, no matter who may henceforth blunder into my silly ongoing existence. I came to this way of looking at life — or the lack, thereof — when that previous lady friend died on me. I also learned not to think of her death — which in that case was jarringly unexpected — as something she'd done to me. I know someone who is still angry at their mate for getting killed in a car crash and that is truly a self-destructive way to view something like that.
Life goes on, except when it doesn't. I appreciate all the advice in those e-mails and Facebook messages but I am fine. Just as Carolyn would have wanted me to be.
People have written to ask if they can make a donation somewhere in her name. Sure. Of course. I support two charities and Carolyn liked both of them. One is The Stray Cat Alliance, which deals with the epidemic of feral felines. The other is Operation USA, which does a lot of the same things, only for human beings. These two efforts are always grateful for any legal tender you can send their way and they put it to very, very good use. Carolyn was very big on the concept of helping others, as are they.
I have much to do in the next week or two but I will be normalizing activity on this blog, a.s.a.p. Thank you all for putting up with my absence, and for the many nice notes.