Out for coffee as usual. This weekly ritual continues to be a focus of grief. I haven’t written much about grief lately, partly because it hits less and less often. But it does come, and not only when walking to coffee. Today I was thinking about the irony that Marian wasn’t even that fond of the Sunday morning walk to coffee. It was me that wanted it as a definite break, doing something unlike the other mornings to mark the end of one week and the start of the next. She’d have been happy, I think, to stay home and have the same coffee as usual. So it’s a bit ironic that it is on just these walks that I remember her most poignantly.
Part of grief, part of the loss of a partnership, is the lack of anyone to share what you see. Anything you notice, anything unusual, any change in the neighborhood or the weather, what’s your first impulse? Well, mine was, and still is, to point it out to Marian. An observation shared is more real. If only I see that there’s an unusual bloom on a bush, or somebody walking along with a cute dog or an unusual hat, or a new construction fence to herald imminent demolition of another house — if only I see that event, is it real? Pointing at it, hearing, “Huh, yeah,” back from your partner: then it’s real. Real-er anyway. Real in a different way, not only because somebody else verified that you saw something, but that they concur with your interest or concern, and so validate that.
Living without a partner to share and validate your experiences is a different life. What’s a constructive response? Well, journaling is one. Hence at least one reason for this blog.
At 12:30 I left for Redwood City. I have a ticket for Shoggoths on the Veldt, a production at the Dragon Theater, one of several local theatres I sometimes attend. Today’s play is a Victorian fantasy. From the program, “When famed Victorian explorer Melford Pumbleshire is torn to pieces by something horrible and unseen while on safari in deepest, darkest Africa, his redoubtable fiancé Euphonia Riggstone must lead an expedition to put his unquiet spirit to rest.” She hires a supposedly rugged adventurer who turns out to be seasick and gun-shy; along the way they meet a refined Victorian lady who turns out to be the high priestess of the Black Temple; there are not one but two woman-on-woman knife fights, and a fairly clever twist ending. I would love to edit the script, which I am sure could be trimmed by ten minutes at least, and I think a couple of important plot points were lost when the background music obscured some dialog, but still it was a lot of fun.
For a cannabis trial tonight I’m going to take more THC than I have before, trying to find out at what level I get a perceptible “buzz”. Three squares of chocolate, 15mg CBD, 15mg THC, at 8:15pm.
Later, nearing 10pm, I may feel a little bit dizzy. I’ll go to bed and continue in the morning.