My four-month report on how—squirrel!

I had a hard time writing this “it's been four months” blog post. I just couldn't decide what to focus on—Ups and downs? Been there, done that. Something I did this month? Nope—a pretty uneventful month all in all. Thanksgiving? That seemed promising.

But in fact, being unable to focus has been a hallmark of this stage, which is foreign to me. One of the things Vic always said he admired about me was my ability to focus. He bounced from thing to thing, and it often took him a week to perform the smallest of tasks.

That's where I am. As I described it to my stepmom on Thanksgiving, I have a hundred five-minutes tasks on my to-do list. I made a small donation to my alma mater, and now that my company does a charity match, I have to file the paperwork to get them to match that donation. It's just a download of the receipt and an upload to our charity match vendor. It practically took me longer to type those two sentences than it would take me to do the work. I have to put my thyroid medication on a 90-day fill through my company's prescription vendor. Again, it's just going online and filling out a few form fields, but there it sits, on my task list, undone.

Every time I sit down to work on my task list, I start by checking my email. And there the rabbit hole begins.

Oh, there's a new part available on the crochet-along I'm following—I'd better go download it. Here are some notifications from PayPal about money I spent. I should put those in Quicken. And as long as I'm in Quicken, I'll sign on to the credit union and my credit cards and my HSA and make sure I've entered everything from those accounts into Quicken. Wait, I can get AMC+ for $2 a month for a year? I'll go sign up for that so I can watch The Discovery of Witches. I wonder if there are any sales on for Christmas music in iTunes? I should check. Speaking of that, I should check my wish list on Amazon and see if anything on it is on sale. Oh! I have to check Zillow to see if any new houses have been added to my search criteria. Boy, I really need to sync Vic's iPad to his computer before I update it to the new operating system.

Next thing I know, it's 7 p.m. and I haven't taken Bella for a walk and I still haven't done my charity match (or anything else on my to-do list).

As I've said many a time, I'm riding out every stage of grief without trying to change it. I'm getting the important things done—I'm paying all my bills on time (now that I have them synced up), I'm getting Bella fed, I'm getting important appointments made (note to self: car needs an oil change), and so on.

And I was very diligent in putting up all the Christmas decorations on Thanksgiving day, so now the house is a Christmas miracle. But you know what? It's not the same. I think what I loved about Christmas decorations was how they came to be. One day I would leave the house for work (remember those days? When we left our houses to go to work?) at 6:15 a.m. (remember that? Getting up before the crack of dawn to get to work?), and when I got home at 6:15 p.m. (remember that? Getting home from work after the sun set?), the house would be completely decorated—tree up, lit, ornamented; music boxes spread around the house; mantle cleared and ready to display our Christmas cards; stuffed bears and moose and pillows strewn about. The only thing I had to do was pick out a wreath and hang it on the door.

Vic didn't love doing any of that by himself, but he knew I didn't love it either, and he knew I was working and didn't have as much time as he did, so he did it for me. He loved my coming home and seeing me admire all his work. Every few years, there would be a new music box. He bought all of them because he knew I liked them. And he always wanted me to approve of where he'd placed the ornaments.

And oh, those ornaments. We long ago got rid of the generic ornaments we bought at Target when we were first together. Now, every ornament has a special meaning. One ornament for each of our pets. The “first Christmas together” ornament from my mom. Several ornaments that I made as a child or were old family ornaments. Many, many souvenirs from our travels and those of his sisters. A ceramic “Dad” that Vic's daughter made.

I don't know how he decided where to put them, but I started with that ceramic “Dad” and put Laurie and Bryan's bears next to it. (Along with the Wags ornament.)

Then I put up our bears, with Bella between us. Next, I put the cats together. Then I went through the ornaments and picked all the ones from our trips plus a few of his favorites from other people's trips. This, from his sister Patty:

And these from his sister Alice:

The next thing I knew, I had a tree (complete with presents, sent early by Vic's daughter so I would have presents under the tree and know I wasn't forgotten).

I also put up the ornament tree from Alice, which houses all the White House Christmas ornaments she's given us over the years ...

... as well as all the music boxes, stuffies, bubble lights, and things I stitched (most of which aren't pictured because I ... you know ... forgot to take pictures).

So the house is festive, even if I'm not quite there yet. It was a lot more work doing it myself than it was when I left in the morning with a plain house and came home to a snazzy one. And Vic always turned on the tree and the stair lights (the lights he wrapped around the stair banister so I would have Christmas lights in my home office) when he got up in the morning, so I woke up to lights. I loved that. I didn't turn on the tree lights until around 6 p.m., and I still haven't put up the stair lights.

So having Christmas decorations around the house isn't exactly bringing joy to my world. And when I took Bella for a walk, the sunset was gorgeous. I took a picture, but it was with my iPhone, and it didn't capture the subtle beauty that Vic would have gotten if he'd taken a picture—so that made me sad. (In fact, a lot of astronomical things make me sad—there was an eclipse Vic would have gotten some great pictures of; Jupiter, Saturn and Venus are aligned, and the full moon swept past them with nary a picture taken; and there's a comet coming that would certainly be visible through Vic's long camera lens.)

I keep a list whenever something strikes me. Last month, I used that list to make my “Ups and downs” blog post. This month, I don't see a single “up” thing on the list. I finally took all his winter clothes to the OUR Center to donate. (An “up” for the people who are getting them, a “down” for me.) I came across a picture of the macaroni and cheese Vic made for my last birthday—the last time I'll ever get Vic's mac and cheese. (Yes, I can make it. I'm not helpless. But I want Vic to make it.) As I was doing laundry one day, I remembered that Vic used to put a quarter in the watch pocket of his jeans when he put them in the hamper. I mean, I was never gonna get rich from those quarters, but I kept all of them. And now there won't be any more. One of my favorite things about special days (like Veterans Day) was going to Facebook to see what pictures Vic posted. No more of that. I dropped his cell phone from our plan yesterday, and I teared up talking to the agent when I told him I wanted to remove it. (Honestly, I should have done it weeks ago—he wasn't getting any calls or texts, I hadn't needed it for two-factor authentication since August, and I'm saving $75 a month by removing it and going to a much smaller plan. Your head is on the chopping block, home phone line!) And the saddest thing of all, the husband of a dear friend of mine entered hospice this month, so she will soon be where I am. I don't want that for her. So, lots of sad things this month. (Not to mention that I also missed my mom on Thanksgiving because she used to come over to breakfast every year.)

And yet.

In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, a lot of people said to me, “Probably not a lot to be thankful for this year.” So after I wrote that bummer paragraph above, I thought about it for a minute. And in fact, I have so much to be grateful for. I always start with the obvious “friends and family”—but it's more than a flippant remark.

I'm spending time with friends I haven't seen in decades. I'm making new friends—the neighbor two doors down previously known as “Sonny's Mom” (because we only knew her through her dog, Sonny) has become “Anne” (because that's her actual name), and she takes walks with me and Bella a few times a week. And of course my “regular” friends—the ones who texted me on Thanksgiving to see how I was; the ones who just treat me normal, as if I'm not grieving (trust me—you need those friends); the ones who laugh at my jokes because they actually think they're funny.

My family continues to be a source of great support, whether it's my sister coming up to help me sort through Vic's things, Vic's sisters inviting me places to make sure I know I'm still part of their family, Vic's kids and our grandkids texting me and sending me pictures, all of my nieces and nephews who check in from time to time, and all of my steps—mom, sisters, brother, in-laws and all their extended families—texting, calling, e-mailing, Facebooking, always reminding me I have more than just my birth family.

How do people even get out of bed in the morning without this kind of support?

When you start thinking of what you're grateful for, you start seeing those things all around you. I am grateful for sunshine. For music. For yarn. For my iPad. For popcorn. FOR BELLA.

And although he is gone from this earth, I am eternally grateful that I had nearly 37 years to love and be loved by Vic.

I leave you this month with a video of Vic's favorite Christmas decoration, the Bandstand Bears. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and that you find peace and contentment in this holiday season.