Yesterday I had my teeth cleaned. Like a great deal of productive adults, I go every six months. I don’t miss appointments. Except for when Joe passed and my living arrangements were *in flux* and we weren’t in one city long enough to find a new dentist. That was just a blip in my otherwise solid record of cleanings since 2004.
Before I was with Joe, my professional cleanings weren’t the strict march they are now. Don’t get me wrong, I went to the dentist. I just didn’t sweat it if I went 8 or 10 or 12 months between cleanings. I had many other things in my life that were more fleeting than the dentist.
Joe made me regimented. He NEVER missed an appointment. Ever. Professionally cleaned teeth were his jam. It rubbed off on me.
Yesterday’s appointment was my second cleaning since Z passed. And, in my estimation, my 14th cleaning since Joe passed.
The longer I live with these losses, the more sentimental (?) I get about mundane chores. It’s absurdly disorienting. It’s in the dental chair I remember there are fewer appointments I need to keep track of. It’s the grocery store that reminds me to purchase less food. It’s the bank balance that reminds me I don’t need to give anyone money for teenage brie-a-bract*.
A couple of years ago, Jay and I took the girls to Flogging Molly for their first rowdy concert. They both fell in love, but Z was smitten for life. She became an undying fan of the Dropkicks, Flogging Molly, ETH, and all manner of celtic folk punk. We spent lots of hours listening to their collective recordings on road trips up north.
Last week I purchased tickets to the Flogging Molly/Dropkick Murphys show in Detroit.** It was a swift kick to my guts when I purchased tickets without calling her and getting giddy about the concert. There aren’t a whole lot of people in my life that feel the same way about this genre of music as I do. Z shared my love; truly and deeply.
In the year after Joe passed and this current year of Z’s, I prep for the hard days. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries. I stand in my power pose and brace for the headwinds. I can handle those days like a champ. I take the grief and stand in it like a pig in mud.
But man, those mundane tasks? That’s the real thick of the pain. Mundane tasks are the black ice of life; Underfoot without notice until I have completed a root cause analysis on why I fell down.
I have freshly polished teeth and tickets to see two of my all-time favorite bands and Christmas doesn’t seem so difficult a day.
0 stars. Would not recommend.
*Not a typo. I made this up.
**Seriously. Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys at the same show is just… no words… be still my heart. Probably one of the most bittersweet things I will ever do.