Post-Mortem Lesson 6: Recluse

It is certainly true that we who have lost our loved ones strive to make our lives as near normal (as we knew it) as possible even though we know at the bottom of our hearts that it will never ever be the same again. It is even harder to establish some sense of normalcy in our daily routine when the person who died has lived with us, or spent time with us under a single roof.

I do not mean to underestimate the sense of loss of friends but it cannot be denied that the impact of loss on the person who has lived with the departed, as far as re-establishing the daily routine is concerned (and I am very careful that I make this disclaimer), is more pronounced and more profound.

Various coping mechanisms are adopted by this particular subset of the bereaved. Some resort to shoving bitter memories at the deepest recesses of their brains by drowning themselves in work. Others, like a friend of mine who was coping with the death of his mother, stayed in bed for many days half-hoping they die in their sleep and join their beloved in the other world. A few sell their homes or leave them to either start anew or avoid being reminded by memories of the deceased and hurt themselves in the process.

None of these are options for me, though I do admit to pushing myself to work many times. However, probably the most pronounced change on me of late, aside from rapid weight loss (30lbs in 4 months!) is my preference to stay home.

I was never a homebody. I would rather stay out of the house and roam around the bars or go for an out-of-towner. It is a different story now. Unless it is absolutely necessary for me to go out, I would rather be at home. Lounging around within the corners of my abode. Nestled among my litter comprised of books, records, CDs. Surfing the net or communicating with friends online. Watching travel shows. Attempting to cook....

A friend wondered if I am trying to draw some sense of comfort from my home, which I shared with Je for 6 years. I never really thought of it that way, but since she pointed it out, then maybe I am actually doing so. It is my way of keeping myself safe, perhaps; only I can protect myself from life's further insult, and I could use a lot of help from places where I can have a sense of security and normalcy.

If this makes me a recluse then yes I think I am for now. And the from the looks of it, most of my friends understand, and they let me be, but at the same time, they check on me. (Thank you God for giving me some really understanding, not so insensitive friends....)