I’ll be honest, part of my motivation to write this post is to find out if the email distribution system I’m trying out is working, so my thoughts are in a bit of a ramble. There are things I want to write about, but I haven’t quite formulated my thoughts yet. And there are things I think about, but wonder if it’s a good idea to share them.
For now, I remain hung up on talking about Colin. The Peanuts mugs above? Part of a set I got Christina a few years back at this chain in Germany. There’s nothing particularly special about them: Christina just likes Peanuts.
The Lucy mug is no longer with us, unfortunately. Christina dropped it and now we have six bowls, but only five mugs: Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Sally, Linus and Woodstock. We’ve looked in the store where we got them: They no longer sell this line.
So, I wrote the company. I asked if they might have a mug tucked away somewhere. And, as I was writing the letter, I wondered how thick I should lay it. Should I just say we can’t find a replacement? Should I talk about how happy it would make my wife? Or should I really go the distance and tell them how miserable a year we’ve just had with all the awful details and hope that touches someone enough so that they trek to the deepest, darkest parts of the warehouse where someone put aside a rack of Lucy mugs that they’re going to sell on EBay someday.
I didn’t. And they don’t have any Lucy mugs anywhere. And I kind of wonder what I was thinking, considering using Colin’s death as a ticket to a Lucy mug (I would have paid for it!). And it gets me back to my Catch-22. I don’t want to talk about Colin all the time, because it will bum people out. And I don’t want to not talk about him, because that feels disrespectful and I think people maybe need to know why I’m on edge. But I also worry what happens when all I become is the guy who lost a kid. I don’t want the death to define me and I don’t want to use it as a crutch. Which is so tempting? Work is too hard? Maybe I’m feeling a little mentally ill? People talking about stuff I don’t care about? Well, excuse me, but why am I supposed to worry about your problems after the year I just had? There’s such a journey in this process – because learning to live without someone like Colin also means kind of learning again what kind of person you are and what you can still manage. I’ve not been horrified at what I’ve discovered so far, but I also don’t think I’m passing with straight A’s either, if you know what I mean.
Wrapping up some other points:
- I emailed the colleagues at work with the whole story about Colin’s death and how it might be something to report on. I felt a little bad about dropping the news of his death in an email, but it wouldn’t have been any easier doing it in person. And I at least have it done.
- I don’t have sleep apnea, according to the pulmonologist.
- However, I’m still not sleeping great. My doctor has me on an herbal mix of hops and valerian. I fall asleep fine, but I did that without aid. Now, with the pills, I at least fall asleep faster when I wake up in the middle of the night. But it’s still a rare night that I don’t wake up 3-5 times. My low point: Waking up last week feeling absolutely refreshed and then realizing it was only 1:30 a.m.
- I paid the stupid 16.32-euro bill. And I didn’t do it by driving to the hospital with a bag of 2 cent pieces.