Large Coke $1.08

I said I was going to wade through this and not go around. I think I took a detour.

Tonight was the awards reception for my local art club's spring members show. I won something. I have no idea what. I couldn't bring myself to face all those people who would tell me how sorry they were, ask if I'm okay and hug me. I've also had several recent phone calls from people wanting talk to me about Tom. I've ignored them too. Yes, I'm fortunate to have people who care, but I'm at a point where I don't want to keep talking about it over and over again. Not to every casual acquaintance that crosses my path.

There is a McDonald's in the large truck stop near work. Nearly every morning on the way in I go through the drive-through and get a large coke and only a large coke. This totals $1.08. Pretty soon a couple of the employees that regularly work the drive-through started to recognize the car and would announce my order to me right as I pulled up to the screen to give it. Sometimes they would make up a random price like $10.39 to tease me. Frequently they wouldn't ring up the sale and just gave me a coke for free. I felt guilty about this and didn't want anyone to get in trouble, so I told them precisely that. Not long after, I handed over my credit card and Tom said something so I turned to him. I turn back and the employee hands me my card a little too quickly. I look at him and say, "you didn't swipe it did you?" He just smiled. On the rare occasions Tom drove, they would ask if I was okay and when Tom wasn't with me they always asked about him. The mind is a funny thing. When I think about going back to work, this is what crosses my mind first, the McDonald's and that they are going to ask.

Each time I come to a situation where I have to notify another group of people about Tom's death it is hard. Tuesday was such a day. I had my regular IVIG infusion at the cancer center. Tom's sister suggested that I bring a program from the service and hand it to them in order to limit what I had to say, which I did, but I knew they would ask questions. I've been coming here every 3 or 4 weeks since late 2008. I see them more often than most of my friends. I talked with a couple of the nurses for awhile. Just getting out the first sentence, that he died is the toughest. After that, I seemed to be okay to speak of it to them.

Walking into Tucker Rocky is going to be hard. For most people grieving, going back to work would be a welcome distraction, some sense of normalcy, but Tom and I worked together and in the same department. Every project I had involved him on some level. His office will still be there but stripped of personal belongings, an empty shell. I really think that will be what bothers me the most. People will be worried and will look at me with a mixture of concern, sadness and pity that will be hard to face. I also realize that I will be a constant reminder to them of Tom, making it harder for them to move on too.

Last night I was sitting on the floor framing and turned the TV on for background noise. It was an episode of Monk. Who would have thought I would find wisdom in it. Someone asks Monk, who lost his wife years before, how he can stay focused and keep working. His answer was, and I'm paraphrasing, "I need to stay the person she fell in love with for her." This really resonated with me. In my case, Tom is so much of who I have become. I won't let his death be the end of me as well.

I've been told I could take a leave of absence if I'm not ready, but I believe that the longer I wait to come back, the harder it will be to do so. It is time. Time to rejoin the world. My Tucker family and I will have to face the mutual pain. Hopefully by working together. I know I have their support.

Will I stop at the McDonald's? I don't have the answer. We will see.

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This painting is called "Against the Stream" and to me represents Tom. He was someone who didn't feel the need to go along with the group. He swam against the current and yet always got to his intended destination.