My Supper
tonight: 2 hot dogs - I have avoided eating a hot dog - hot dogs was Bob's favorite food
... he was eating hot dogs almost exclusively when we started dating 45 years ago. In fact,
I teased him about it because he never deviated from at least 2 hot dogs in any
given day. Eventually, he started eating other foods when we married because I
went on a kitchen strike until he agreed to sample a variety of meals; I
was tired of hot dogs, mac 'n cheese, pizza, and San Francisco Rice-A-Roni.
That said, ever since December 14th,
2018, I have studiously avoided even walking past the hot dog isle in the
stores - I just could not face it without crying. And, I have been cooking and
eating meals Bob refused to eat ... and when I do bring home take-out meals, I
always bought things Bob didn't like to eat: this is my way of dealing with
things as they are. In order to heal and keep my sanity, I had to distance
myself from things that would constantly chip away at the resealing of the
cracks in my life. Hot dogs was one of those things I avoided. Even now, I tear
up.
But, tonight, I decided "would be the night" I slayed the
hog dog shakiness and got past the lump in the throat - I managed to
bite-chew-swallow without choking, crying, or vomiting it back up.
Bob's pancreatitis was a rare type of inflammatory disorder – his attack
was not food or alcohol related at all. It was stress related. Even so, even the
thought of a hot dog; and a beer with Supper was making me nervous! Rationally, I KNEW that neither a hot dog, or a single beer could seriously hurt me; and it has no relation at all to my widowhood.
But it kinda freaked me out.
More things to hurdle in my move to rebuild my life …
It may sound irrational to some, but the grieving/healing process is
irrational.
One step at a time.
One day at a time.
One scab at a time.