A couple of months ago, before Bob died, on any given day I accomplished a great deal. Much of what I checked off my figurative "to do" list were things I did for Bob, but there were many other things, too--making phone calls, doing laundry, writing notes, paying bills, running errands-- mostly mundane but necessary tasks. I don't know that I was exactly a "ball of energy," but I certainly seemed to have a lot more then, and motivation as well, than I do now. Then I was going pretty much nonstop "from sun-up to sun-down," as the saying goes. Now, by about 1:00 or 2:00 in the afternoon, it is a huge effort to imagine doing much of anything for the rest of the day. Sometimes I manage to push through this lethargy until time for dinner; but there are times when I just surrender.
This afternoon, I pushed myself a bit and sorted through an accumulation of papers. In the stack, I found materials from hospice, including a booklet entitled Journey's End. On the last two pages, the author comments on "Bereavement." There I came upon these compassionate and supportive words:
"You have probably pushed yourself to be strong for your loved one, giving little attention to your own needs. Now is the time to treat yourself tenderly. You have sustained a deep wound that will need loving support to heal."
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