The "before" me

Daughter #1 came home from Boston today. She's wiped out. She thought the interview went well, so that's good. And she liked it up there, in spite of the cold. Now she waits for other schools and for a response from Harvard. That will probably be a while.
Today I played my first official match in the "after". It was a great match, and though M & I played well, we lost. I was (and am) drained. And I cried after it was over. Not because we lost (I hope I'm not that much of a poor sport) but because it was another "first". My first match without Jim. My first Monday to not have him call and ask, "How was your match?". "Firsts" should be good things, don't you think? I used to.

The "before Janine" has shown up a few times. She pokes her head in once in a while, but she doesn't stay long. I now really see myself as two distinct people. Maybe I should have that checked out. Anyway, I hurt for the "before" me. I miss her (and everything else from "before"). I don't think she'll ever totally be back. Parts of her, yes, but not the entire person. She lost too much.
And I will never be the same. I may be better in some ways, some day, but never the same. Not only did I lose Jim but I lost my belief about prayer. I feel disillusioned, to put it mildly.

On a strangely positive note, I found out something that has relieved me, greatly.
I found out from another cardiac surgeon that all of the time Jim laid in the hospital that day (after he was life-flighted) didn't matter. Jim never had a snowball's chance in hell of surviving (unless of course God performed a miracle, which He declined). Most people with an aortic dissection like his don't survive to get to a hospital. I am relieved.
And now I consider the time he had that day as time that God gave to me and the kids, and him.
And I am grateful.