11 Weeks

11 weeks.  I hate that it is double digits.  I hate that the number just gets bigger every Friday.

I have often heard the expression that people never change.  I disagree with that statement. People do change, all the time.  There are events that happen in life that can change a person instantaneously.  In the  Stephen King novel, Gunslinger, Jake tells Roland, "Go then. There are other worlds than these."  I have always thought to myself, "There are other lives than this."

Sondra is a special name to me.  My parents named all of my siblings "normal" names.  Mine was unique, and as of yet, I have met very few Sondra's in my life.  It was Storm that started calling me Rose.  We were in the front of the house, that first spring after we were married, and he watched me sniffing my favorite, beautiful rose, and something in his mind clicked with the song, "The Rose."  That was it.  In his mind, I was his Rose.

Except nicknames don't typically stick to me.  I have tried over the years, and others have tried, to attach cute, funny, or relevant names to me, but I always ended up back at Sondra.  I never felt like anything but Sondra.

Storm's suicide changed the very fabric of how I see myself. It changed me in an instant.  I truly no longer see myself as Sondra.  Sondra is a person I used to know.  She was smart, and capable, and determined, and somewhat accomplished, and self-involved, and deeply, deeply in love.  In fact, that love was so huge, Sondra died on the floor that day with Storm.

I have called myself Rose on social media for a while now, entirely because it pleased Storm so much to see it there. In "real life" I never stopped being Sondra.   Now I introduce myself as Rose.  It's who I am now.  I don't really know this woman very well.  She's kind of mean and overly blunt and very socially awkward.  She's got a dark sense of humor, and is quick to anger.  She cries a lot, and spends a lot of time skulking around her house, trying to find something worth doing.  She has good traits.  She actively seeks joy, and tries to bring goodness to others.  A great hidden source of compassion has opened up inside her, and her heart and mind are full of prayers for others, many of whom she doesn't even know.  She loves her granchildren, and has developed a great deal of gratitude for the people in her life, the ones who still express their caring, that come to her house, that take her out to eat, that find reasons and ways to make her smile.  Confidence is not within her, but love is, and a deep appreciation for the blessings in her life.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the voice of Sondra can be heard, shouting her practical, logical advice over the din of grief and pain.  Sometimes Rose even listens to her.  Most days, Rose just tries to survive, still reeling from her violent and painful birth.

Some days are better than others.  One more day to push forward, and push back.  I miss Storm.  I always, always miss Storm.