Tough

Bereavement class this evening.  I always get there just a bit prior so I can go to my dad's grave.  It was very difficult tonight.  On the way there I thought about coping with alcohol.  I felt like what did it matter.  Things would be low whether I did it or not, so why not do it.  Or why do it.  It's all kind of futile.  I know that's a pretty bleak thought.  It's just how how I felt.  I actually felt a little like drinking but not too extreme.  Then it passed.  Then I went to the class.  This class is attended by a large number of older folks, all women except for one man.  Almost everyone has lost their spouse.  It is insane thinking about losing my husband.  My grief is different for my dad.  There is a lot of pain in just simply losing him, but I am also haunted by the end and that part is overwhelmingly tough to deal with sometimes.  Anyway, I suspect many of these women do not drink.  Some of them do.  Some of them might drink more than I realize.  Who knows.  But if there are women who don't drink, I thought about how they just exist with the pain.  They just live each day alone.  It seems like a toughness in a way, like drinking is pointless.  So in a way, it helped me.  It's easier to drink.  I didn't today.  I guess I'm a little tough.