New week

Ay, I was blessed with a beautiful shabbos---starting with dinner and discussion and song in a beautiful setting with good friends Friday night.  Today, I finally dared the longer hillier walk in the Open Space--first since dealing with foot injury.  It helped to remind myself that it was shabbat, and I could forget about pushing myself, and walk in whatever way was pleasant to me.  A contemplative, medium pace was just lovely, and the hills were not a problem.

I am finding that hosting a stranger in the house---even a good person, which he is---is something of a strain for me.  I find myself pulling in and becoming even more private.  Example: rather than open the laptop after shabbos in my own back study---which is down the hall from the guest bedroom---I have taken it upstairs to my bedroom, at the farthest other end of the house, along with a telephone handset and the list of family contacts whom I will call or Skype in the morning.  
I find my own reaction curious.

I am as puzzled as some of you are regarding how to move over onto My Own Blog.
Netanel's instructions were:  
"She just needs the address (eveilsen.com) and to click the "RSS feed" at the bottom of the page."
And of course I am deeply embarrased at having accidentally sent you to a semi-pornographic site...

I have found that the intense periods of grieving and missing Zalman come in waves, and then recede for a while.  This weekend rode one of those waves.  Spending a quiet shabbos at home, walking alone, taking a shabbos nap, eating what I had prepared in advance, reading the sedra (that powerful recapitulation) late afternoon on the back porch with the hummingbirds, bringing down my great-grandfather's spice box for havdalah---they all served to help me relocate in my center.  Oh, also reading some chapters in Terry Tempest Williams' stunning book, When Women Were Birds.

The feeling of disorientation is a corollary to the grief.  
I am surprised that both are lasting so long.  Perhaps I shouldn't be.
I have the feeling that sizeable chunks of me have dropped off in these years---perhaps even beginning years before my beloved's death.  I am only now really beginning to fathom how much of my attention and energy had shifted to caregiving, to housekeeping, to cooking with an eye to his wellbeing (which he may well have rathered I did not...)
I am wondering ¿what was it I used to do, again?  is it still worth doing? if so, am I still capable?
Or should I be setting off in another direction entirely?
It all sounds like it's gearing up for re-evaluation, every bit of it---the work of Elul.

My deep thanks to those of you who have kept me company on this journey so far.
Shavu'a tov.