ConFusion was a strange experience this year, in some ways. I didn’t bring my camera. I only did one panel, along with a reading and the group autographing. I didn’t even wear the fancy author jacket. I just showed up in my T-shirt and jeans and mostly just hung out.

This was also the first time I’d brought my son along. It was fun getting to spend the weekend with him. I know he got a bit bored when I’d get caught up talking to all of my grown-up friends, but I think he had a good time. He attended a few panels on his own, went swimming, did some art stuff, played Pokemon Go with me and Suzanne Church … and at the end, he said he wanted to come back again next year.

One of the best parts for me — really, the primary reason I wanted to go — was seeing people again. This was my first convention in more than a year.

One of the most frustrating parts — as it always is — was not having enough time with everyone.

Lots of people asked how I was doing, or expressed condolences, or said they didn’t know what to say, or gave me a hug… and it all helped. It all made me feel cared about and less alone with everything I’ve been through in the past year and a half. Thank you all for that.

And then I came back home and spent an hour shoveling snow and ice so I could get my car into the garage.

#

Back home, and back to the routine. It’s almost five months now since Amy died. Fourteen months since she started getting sick. The sadness and the loneliness and the emptiness are all still very much there, but I’ve been feeling more functional. I’m continuing to do what I can to take care of myself and the kids. And to paraphrase my therapist, there’s a bit of confidence that I can do this. I don’t like it, and it’s a hell of a lot harder, but I’m managing.

I was even able to break through the last part of the outline on Terminal Peace and get back to writing the ending this week.

I’ve done a fair amount of reading about grief and being a widower and single parent, trying to be proactive about self-care and caring for the kids. Some of the changes I’ve made in the past months…

• Exercise – I’ve been doing this pretty much since Amy got sick. I think it’s a coping mechanism. But as long as I don’t get obsessive about it, it’s a healthy one. (Side note: No less than three people last week commented that I looked (or felt) like I’d been working out. That was unexpected, but nice.)
• Game night – I’ve got a group of gaming friends, and we never manage to get together to do stuff. Well, I herded those cats into a monthly get-together, because I need more social interaction and escape. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep that going.
• Therapy – I started back with my therapist, and have also been attending a weekly support group for parents who’ve lost a partner. It helps me to stay in touch with the grief and keep working through it, and to make sure I’m continuing to take active steps to manage everything the best I can.
• Asking for Help – I recruited my father to take my son to one of his weekly things. It’s only one night a week, but it frees up a couple hours of my time, and it’s a little less stress on my shoulders. (I need to keep working on this one…)
• Saying Yes to Social Stuff – As much as I can, if someone invites me to lunch or a movie or whatever, I’m trying to say yes. Even if I’m not always feeling super-social. It helps me to get out and stay connected with other people. (I need to get more proactive about initiating this stuff.)
• Letting Myself Grieve – Sometimes the grief just hits. It happened at work a couple weeks back, triggered by a conversation about hospitals. It happened Saturday afternoon at the con, and I have no idea what cause it that time. Rather than trying to keep the pain locked away, I try to let it just happen. Let myself be sad. Let myself miss her. Let myself cry, if it happens. It hurts, but there’s a sense of release to it, and I’m more functional afterward.

So to answer the most frequently asked question of the weekend, I’m doing okay. Not great — it’s probably going to take a while to reach great — but okay. It hurts, but I feel like I’m getting closer to acceptance of what my life looks like now.

I think Amy would be proud of how her husband and kids are holding up and working through things.

Went back to Eclectic Art on Friday to get the next round of work done on the tattoo. James had done the linework and initial shading at the beginning of December. This time, he started adding color.

It’s hard to say if this hurt more than before. Some of the thicker lines in December felt like pretty deep scratches. None of the coloring was that sharp, but he had to go over the same patch of skin again and again to get it all filled in, which wasn’t pleasant. And as I understand it, the needles are different for color and shading — more like a broad (but still very small) paintbrush made of needles, as opposed to the pen-tip style needle(s) for the lines.

None of it was too bad. But it was enough I couldn’t just doze off and take a nap 🙂

He set up a much more colorful palette this time, focusing on the colors for the grass and the dragon.

I paid a bit more attention to the tattoo gun this time. I’m fascinated by how it looks like a steampunked fountain pen. There are no ink cartridges or anything. He just dips into the color(s) he wants, mixing and blending as needed.

He started in on the dragon. At first, I couldn’t really see where he was going with some of his color choices. And it’s hard to watch someone painting your arm. So mostly I just laid there and played games on the phone.

Unfortunately, we had to cut things a little short. He had some family stuff come up, which I can understand. We’re going to try to do a longer session at the end of the month, but it’s possible we might need to do a fourth to finish everything.

Here’s what my arm looked like at the end of three hours of coloring. (This is the pic I shared on Twitter and Facebook.)

I’m really happy with how it looks so far, but there’s a lot left to go. The tree will be getting watercolor-style foliage, and then there’s the moon and the night sky, along with finishing the dragon’s wings and the book and other little details.

But I love the colors and the lighting effects and the way the grass turned out and the shading… All of which makes me impatient to go back and get the rest done!

Aftercare is pretty much the same as before. There’s more oozing and seepage this time. Things look a bit gross underneath the bandage (a clear, breathable “tape” that covers the new tattoo, which is essentially an open wound). I debated sharing a picture, but nobody needs to see that. Let’s just say the grass looks more like mud now.

The one downside, aside from my impatience about wanting to finish, is that I need to avoid some of my exercise routine for a bit until it heals more. I may skip karate tomorrow night, too. Knowing my luck, somebody would decide it was the perfect night to punch me right in the arm…

As some of you know, my kids and I skipped town and went to northern California for a week over the Christmas holiday. In part, it was because we’d never been. Mostly, it was because we weren’t up for being here and trying to have a “normal” Christmas.

Aside from our almost-yearly trips to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, this was the first real vacation we’d taken in … well, pretty much as long as I can remember. We’ve had a few weekend trips here and there, but not many, and not in years.

Looking back, I think I tried to squeeze in too many destinations. Next time, I’ll plan on slowing down and spending a little more time. But overall, I’m calling it a success. We all had some good experiences and some “wow” moments. My daughter got to see sea lions. My son got to pet lots of new dogs. I got to visit the Charles M. Schulz museum 🙂

For anyone who hasn’t seen the pics on Facebook, I’ve posted the California album over on Flickr as well.

We drove from the airport to Santa Cruz to Santa Rosa to Yosemite to Folsom to a different airport. There were whales and elephant seals and mountains and redwoods. We spent about half the time with some close family friends — family in all but blood, essentially.

I had plenty of moments of sadness, thinking about how much Amy would have loved this, and how I wished we’d done it when she was alive and healthy. But I also know she’d have been happy to see me and the kids getting some enjoyment and wonder. Especially the kids.

That was the best part for me, too. Seeing genuine joy and wonder and happiness from the kids — especially my daughter. I know they were hurting sometimes too, having some of the same grief and pain and regret I was, but I think the majority of our time was positive and good for us all.

And now it’s 2020. My son starts school on Monday. My daughter and I have both started back to work again. I opened up Terminal Peace and did a few hundred words tonight before a blood sugar crash ended that. (I’m fine. But dang, this disease is annoying.) Most of the time, the New Year seems pretty arbitrary and meaningless, but this year, I do have more of a sense of … not renewal or a new beginning, exactly, but a sense of starting to let go of a little of the pain and trauma of 2019.

Who knows if that will continue. Grief doesn’t just stop. I’ll never stop missing her or wishing she was still with us. But there’s hope that this year will be better — at least for our family. (I’m not gonna weigh in on events in the larger world quite yet. Son of a crap…)

For those who celebrate, I hope the holidays were good to you. And for all of us, I hope 2020 is a much better year.