Optimism, Don't Fail Me Now

I've been talking a lot about how helpful all of the spring events and rituals have been. How I've been feeling calmer and more at peace and more accepting of Kyle's being gone. But, of course, the moment one gets complacent or gives words to thoughts without knocking on wood, you know what happens. Things change again.

I did so well during my post-eye-op period. Surprisingly, I didn't have so much time on my hands that my mind was filled with painful thoughts of Kyle. I did a lot of mindless stuff, like sleeping a lot, reading a lot, and doing email. I spent hours on my Welsh genealogy--better than solitaire--but a real time swallower. And, not being able to drive and being at home with not a scrap of food in the cupboard other than my UCLA eating program food I lost more weight (48 pounds to date) so that was great.

I found myself thinking about the role of optimism in the grief process. I am a ridiculously optimistic person. The X-man used to call me "Pollyanna on Speed" and that fit. I wake up feeling good and I respond to the world positively, even in times of trouble. Lose my keys? I say to myself, "Wait; don't despair until you've really looked everywhere and waited and pretended you don't need them--they'll turn up!" I truly believe it is a waste of time to distress about something until all hope is lost. I'm like Scarlett O'Hara saying, "I'll think about that tomorrow." But it's not about procrastination or avoidance, it's about why worry before you have to.

For several months, I experienced Kyle being gone as Kyle being up north in college. I was waiting for him to take the shuttle bus down the coast. I had the expectation he'd arrive during the next long holiday weekend. And while it sank in eventually that this wasn't going to happen, my natural optimism hasn't jumped ship. I have an expectation of something good happening. About Kyle. Yeah. Really.

This isn't about banking on meeting up with Ky in an afterlife--as much as I would love to believe in that. It's about the belief that I have always carried with me: I will find it, I will solve it, where there is a will there is a way. And this optimism keeps me from feeling that all is lost--even about Kyle. In spite of all evidence to the contrary.

So, as I started out saying, I'd been feeling well. But, as I recovered from my May 28th surgery, I became aware that it had become June. And after June comes July. And it was in July, a year ago, that I lost Kyle. On the phone with my friend Mary Lou, telling her how well I was handling things, suddenly I was crying again.

I'm thinking about the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th of July. And the 13th of July. And I'm thinking about what I will do on those days. And I feel myself building a wall inside, to shore myself up against the inevitable. Against what has already come to pass. How is your optimism gonna help you on this one, kiddo?