Three weeks

Since he died.  It feels like a year, except that I am still so intermittently, surprisingly wet.  I can't quite imagine in an actual year who and where I'll be in my life.  Warning, this blog is morphing from being a Gil updates to a Kathleen's confessional blog.  Consider discontinuing following it.
What I've learned so far:
*people are so kind and generous with me that I'm actually sort of uncomfortable
*I have a fear that being needy will make me vulnerable which gets in the way of my asking for help
*pride in my identity of being a self sufficient giver, may also get in my way
* I can learn how to handle new things like mechanical problems, if I ask for help.  
 So get over it Piper, join the real world of give and take, expectation and disappointment, "we all get by with a little help from our friends".  Because it is the real world, and the one I need to live in without Gil.

One of the oddest sensations is that I have few responsibilities tying me down.  I am free to go places, visit folks, spend the night, stand on my head (so to speak) I am not carrying the weight of his needs and limitations anymore, but, damn, I want it back.
Who would have thought I'd miss even the restrictions he put on my life, so much, so much?  I feel like the old Kathleen is dying and the new one has yet to be born.

I'm open to new poetry describing this birth, if you have a favorite.
Perhaps I'll need to write my own.