Finding Normal

When Art died, an old friend, who was also a widow, wrote me a note with this advice: "Don't say 'no' to anything." I've been following her advice for nearly 11 months now. I've rarely turned down an invitation to go to a movie, or go out for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I've joined the Women's Wine Club, a group that gathers at a different restaurant each month for a gourmet dinner and wine tasting. I've volunteered for the Harry Chapin Food Bank and Ronald McDonald House, I've gone to one museum to see Princess Diana's dresses, and another museum to see a Chihuly exhibit, I've traveled to Connecticut and Honolulu to spend time with my children, I've attended medical writers' meetings in Dallas, Orlando and Rockville, Maryland…

Although there's no doubt that keeping busy has kept me from spending my days wallowing in self pity and missing Art every second of the day, I'm beginning to realize that this almost frenzied busyness can't go on forever. It's just not normal—at least not for me. There must be a "happy medium," but I haven't found it yet.

Obviously, very little about my life has been normal since Art died. I still play Mah Jongg on Monday evenings. I still go to Book Club once a month. I still take my early morning walks (most mornings). I still watch some favorite TV programs, and read the daily local paper and the Sunday New York Times. I try to keep up with email,  and I still work part time as a freelance medical writer. That's about it. But even those familiar activities aren't entirely normal. Art isn't here to greet me when I get home from Mah Jongg Monday evenings; he's not sitting in the family room or on the lanai reading the paper with me; and he's not here taking care of household chores when I'm busy working on a writing project.

I want my life to feel normal again and I have to trust that someday it will. But, right now it's hard for me to imagine when that might happen and what that new normal might be like.