Free When Things Get Back to Normal by M.T. Dohaney Page A

the main street of the campus – the one between the bookstore and the forestry building – an indescribable sadness enveloped me. The weight of it shackled me to the spot. I stood there unable to go forwards or backwards, like the Ancient Mariner with that damn albatross on his neck. The paralysis panicked me, and I snapped an order at myself to think of something,
anything
, that could bring a little joy into my life, and it didn’t matter how ridiculous or outrageous it might be.
    I dredged up decadent and deliciously sinful acts deigned to send the blood coursing through my veins. A half gallon of butter pecan ice cream with a can of extra sauce. My stomach lurched. I’ve binged once too often this year.
    An affair! A short but blazing affair. I tried to come up with names for my little tryst, but none would come to mind. Besides, where would I get the energy to go out and buy new lingerie?
    I dropped down on the grass. Nothing or no one could help me. Despair flooded my being. Then a picture blasted into my brain. It was a neon sign, and the word DEATH beckoned tantalizingly in an array of colours. Peace replaced the despair. No more worrying whether I was doing the right thing by selling the house. No more phantom footsteps on the staircase. No more higgledypiggledy cheque book. No more student assignments. No more searching for umbrellas, gloves, credit cards and other belongings that won’t stay close to me. And no more missing you.
    I stood up and, without a thought for the traffic, walked out into the street. Cars careened around me. Brakes squealed. Drivers shouted. I walked across that crowded street as unperturbed as a cat strolling across a window ledge.
    Later in my office I chastized myself severely. Enough of this nonsense! Enough already! I ordered. There’s a season for everything, and life is not yours to arrange or rearrange.
SEPTEMBER 1 –
Monday
    I went for a long walk today on the outskirts of town. It was a golden autumn day, and it brought to mind words from D.H. Lawrence.
Autumn always gets me badly as it breaks into colours
.
    Are you aware that by dying in November you spoiled my very special season? I’ll never again be able to look at October without thinking that November is not far behind. Until November 22, only good things happened to me in the fall: my first job, meeting you, marrying you, entering university.
    Fall is now a season of endings. I wonder whether when university opens, I’ll be able to take delight in the smell of new books and the taste of chalk dust. Will I still enjoy meeting new students and reuniting with old ones?
SEPTEMBER 9 –
Tuesday
    Today I made it through the university gates. I’ve been having more anxiety attacks lately, and when I met with my first class I could feel the shortness of breath beginning.
    I prayed as I walked along the corridor to my classroom. Dear God, let me get through this class. Don’t let my heart start pounding. Don’t let me feel as if the walls are folding around me, choking me to death. Don’t let me make a spectacle of myself by pulling a panic attack. Ihad the bad humour to end with, God you owe me that much!
    All during class I had a difficult time concentrating on my subject matter. All I could think about was coming home to an empty house, a house with a silent voice, and not being able to share my day with you, and how pointless and useless everything is. But I made it through the period, so perhaps the next time won’t be so difficult. And perhaps God does remember that I was left bereft a few months ago and that He (or She) really does owe me one.
SEPTEMBER 14 –
Sunday
    Just returned from an evening out with very dull people – widows all. Friends refer widows to me now as if I’m a collector of them, as if I no longer want to be discriminating in my friendships. The only thing I had in common with tonight’s dinner companions was that death had also