I often joked with Daniel that should a zombie apocalypse occur, he should simply let the monsters eat me. Because, I'd teased, I would not want to live in a world without internet connection.
Even so, when I woke up recently to find that the cable and internet was no longer available to me, I had only myself to blame. I'd seen the disconnect notice. I had plenty to cover the expense. There'd been more than enough time to call and make the payment. I simply did not.
You see, most all of our bills are automatically drafted from the bank. But this one bill had been causing Daniel problems. For the last several months he would call them and ask why the debit had not come out, and every month they would apologize and say next month. He'd just spoken with them the week before he passed away and had to pay over the phone. Apparently, they still hadn't figured out the billing issue.
Now it just felt so overwhelming to deal with. A silly thing really, but in my mind it became a monster problem.
I find it strange how grief works.
In the days after losing him, I was devastated but still was able to coordinate notifying our friends and loved ones, finding a funeral home, planning a service, writing the memorial notice, and even accommodating out of town family members.
But now, months later, there are times that something as simple as deciding what to have for dinner is a mental hurdle far too large to navigate.
Last week, I wore Christmas socks to work because doing laundry was out of the realm of possibilities. I guess that even though I may have escaped the fate of being zombie chow, my brain is still being eaten up.
When I was laughing with Daniel just a short time ago, being here now dealing with the grief of losing him seemed as likely as living through a zombie attack.
I love you Daniel.