“You people are very brave”

“And so the brave widower saunters toward his car to return to his big empty house with naught but his faithful dog to accompany him.”
So I said yesterday (Saturday, July 14, 2012) to the guy who helps daycare my dog as I left his grooming-shop with my dog.
This guy, like me, is an ex-employee of the Canandaigua Daily Messenger newspaper. We used to do the newspaper’s web-site. We worked in adjacent cubicles.
His wife-to-be, Lisa Schall, also worked at that newspaper, but in ad-sales. My friend was an editor.
Lisa and my friend married. My friend is Bill Robinson.
It was Bill’s second marriage; I don’t know about Lisa.
Lisa developed such a large clientele as a groomer at the veterinary hospital she began working at, Lisa and Bill decided to go out on their own, Fetching-Looks Pet Grooming in nearby Canandaigua.
Lisa is president, and Bill her assistant.
Lisa does the clipping, and Bill fronts the store among other duties.
I don’t remember how it started, perhaps via Facebook, but now Fetching-Looks does my doggie-daycare while I work out at the Canandaigua YMCA.
They’re not far from the YMCA; only a minute or two.
So here I am again blogging my wife’s death.
People want me to get over it, but I can’t.
July 17 will be three months since my wife died.
I’m still devastated and heartbroken. I cry often.
I also feel very alone. Here in this big empty house I barely exist. I’m told it’s an attempt to exert control by minimizing my world.
Bill made a comment at this grief-share I attended the other day. In fact, it was Bill’s suggestion I attend this grief-share. He accompanied me to it.
“You people are very brave,” he said.
“Quite often when a tragedy of this magnitude occurs, the injured party just goes in their house, locks all the doors, and closes the shades.”
He said this at Fetching-Looks yesterday after I made my “brave widower” comment.
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“If I did, I’d just get hyper depressed. I get depressed enough already.”
“Yeah, you’re out there doing things. Trying to live a normal life despite your incredible circumstances.
To me that’s brave.”

• My current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s seven, and is our sixth Irish-Setter, an extremely high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder]. By getting a rescue-dog, I avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad.)
• I work out in the Canandaigua YMCA Exercise-Gym, appropriately named their “Wellness-Center,” usually two-three days per week, about two-three hours per visit. (“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where I live in western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away. —I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)
• My beloved wife of 44 years died of cancer April 17, 2012. She was 68. I miss her dearly.