Susan went out on a Friday night to hear her friend's band play in a neighborhood bar. It was just like being back in high school except everybody in the bar was old.

Like her.

The music was really loud and Susan felt confined because she couldn't talk. A contributing factor may have been that Susan and her posse were right up front. Once they repositioned themselves it was more comfortable and Susan's Guinness sodden conversational ability was given some elbow room.

Since this was a neighborhood bar, specifically in Susan's neighborhood, there was always the chance that Mr. & Mrs. Drunk may stumble in. Other than waving from across the street Susan does not like to promote any unnecessary interaction between herself and The Drunks. They aren't bad people, just not anyone she wants finding their way up to her front door.

The evening was low key and friendly but Susan doesn't really know what to do with herself in a bar anymore. She's not a dancer and there's only so much she can drink before it becomes counter productive. The group was winding down when Susan spied Mr. Drunk twenty feet in front of her. She immediately brought this to Little Sister's attention and within ten seconds found herself shoved out the front door and onto the street along with the rest of her collective.

This portion of the evening was over. Fifty percent went along with Susan for coffee and tea, the other fifty went home.


Susan's Plan of Grief Recovery

Susan's beloved Cousin Lisa was buried with military honors three months to the day after the husband died. She imagines the husband was pleasantly surprised to see Cousin Lisa show up in whatever location they now find themselves. This gives Susan comfort although it doesn't keep her from covering her face and sobbing into her hands at the thought of it.

On that first sad day Cousin Greg told Susan We're in the same club now. Sure, the Heartbroken Persons Club of Misery and Sleeping Alone Forever.

It needed a dramatic title.

After that, Susan spent some time thinking about what she knew of navigating grief so that she may help her fellow club member. Any success she's had comes from believing that she will be OK. She started a list and wrote the word BELIEVE.

Next she thought about how she would seek comfort by climbing back into bed with her morning coffee then stay there till the afternoon. She wrote that down, COMFORT.

She didn't always cry although she wanted to. To remedy this she'd look at a picture of her warm, protective, funny, smart, wonderful husband's face and let his absence overwhelm her. Once it started she'd keep it going.
She wrote CRY.

Next came a long one; DON'T ALLOW THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THINGS TO GET OUT OF CONTROL. This is why she came home & immediately stripped the bed, began clearing out his bedroom drawers, then hit the closet.

As Susan began taking over household & financial tasks previously maintained by the husband a word kept sailing through her head; simple.
Keep everything simple. Make it easy.
She thought about this word often, it became like her mantra. She wrote INSPIRATION WORD.

CREATE NEW RITUALS. Thursday Movie Night was instituted by the college wrestler. Each week one member of Susan's little family gets to choose a movie and accompanying snacks. The movie is totally up to the discretion of the chooser and kept secret until time of viewing to cut down on complaining by the audience. There are no rules for Thursday Movie Night beyond mandatory attendance between the hours of 8-10 pm.

Susan moves in slow motion through her days. Work is exempt from this lethargy because it's work, and she has to get sh*t done. But, when she's home only one thing per day gets accomplished when formerly it might be seven or eight. And, she's completely absent minded.
Susan finished with TO DO LIST lest nothing at all get done.


Susan was humming along, doing pretty well with the whole dead husband situation. She was back to work, taking care of grown up responsibilities and keeping things together. It wasn't perfect but she was proud of herself.

Last Thursday Susan slid down the rabbit hole when her beloved Cousin Lisa died.

You read that right.

Cousin Lisa died. 

The Lord, God Almighty could not have chosen two more central people to remove from Susan's life than the husband and Cousin Lisa. 

(Sidebar: It is commonly thought that these things happen in threes. If so, Little Sister better sleep with one eye open).

Susan won't bore you with the depth of her love for Cousin Lisa, suffice it to say that she took time from the pit of her misery to thank God for sending Lisa her way then cried for seven f*cking days straight.