neurosis

She used to think about the death of her husband, how it would go down, and then what she would have to do. The death always happened suddenly, in her mind, by heart attack or via impact from a deadly car accident. No mangled body, just impact then death. The first thing she would have to do after identifying his body always had something to do with paperwork. Where was the paperwork? Where were the files? Where is the bank box key? Is there a bank box key? Is there a bank box? Is there a bank?

After somehow managing to settle the mystery of the bank box, she would sell everything but the essentials, then squirrel away some mystery funds (perhaps found in the bank box) for future catastrophes that were sure to come. Then, she would begin the mourning process. This was the way it would go, in her mind, logistics first, then sadness.

Most of this rumination focused on the paperwork, bank box, and squirrelling, however, on the few occasions when she allowed herself to get to the mourning part, her body went limp and dark. She would linger uneasily here. Timidly, she would try putting herself in a world where her husband was gone, really gone. Imagining herself there, she wondered, How could this be? What is this? Emptiness. After all these years, fighting to stay together, fighting to figure each other out, to forgive and renew, to forget and re-create. All the years (30 of them!) of this thing we have been doing, this good important thing that we have been building together and now… it’s just me, just one person that is not a part of two people, part of him, part of us. No, this is not right. No! And the No screaming inside her would lead her to something that was very solid, very dense. Oh! she thought, as if she were landing on a mattress after a stunt fall, I love him!