I Had A Dream and Another and Another

I had a dream the other night.  You were there.  To be honest it wasn't really a dream, it was a blip on the screen.

I awoke with this in my eyes...I walked from outside the screen past a park bench, which you were sitting on.  The overwhelming feeling...hurt, anger, betrayal. As I walked by this bench, you, I turned to look at you with disgust in my eyes and continued walking towards a small wooden footbridge.  That is it.  Nothing else.  I woke up...game over!  WTF

The next day while working on my laptop I got a pop up message about my Yahoo IM.  To be honest, I haven't been on my Yahoo instant message screen since 2012. I forgot about it. Anyway, this pop up gave directions to see past/saved message threads. I ignored it.

The next day I got another pop up about this damn IM archive system. WTH...3 years.  Three years since I've used this way of talking with someone. Now I can't seem to get rid of this stupid pop up message.

The next night I got the pop message again and this time I followed the directions and waited. What I saw on the screen took my breath away.  The only thread on this thing was from you and I.  So I closed out of it. Nope, not going there...can't immerse myself in a conversation with you that I can't have anymore.  UGH!  Why is this all of a sudden coming up? So I went back to watching the season finale of The Voice. All the while though I thinking, just do it, read the posts.  So I did.

It was years worth of posts, I didn't read them all, just the last ones from shortly before you died. We were having an 'issue' and I was posting from Arkansas while you were here in Rhode Island. It was hard going back to that time feeling it, hearing your voice in my head as I read. The more I read the more I wondered why the universe had put energy into bringing me here (the dream, the pop ups) why am I supposed to be reliving this mess we were in, why now after all this time? And as I'm reading I hear "Is it too late for me to say I'm sorry?" WHAT!?! Justin Bieber was performing on the Voice and that was the opening line of his song. Huh. As much as it all seemed to 'connect', to be a sign, I don't know why, if it is, the feeling of the dream was anger and disgust.  Why not love, understanding, forgiveness, I'm sorry! So, I'm not sure what to make of it all.

Then a few nights later, another dream. Okay, now this is getting too weird. I NEVER dream of you, not at all. Now, 3 in two weeks. Enough already!!! What are you trying to tell me, I don't understand what you are trying to say babe...and this dream, IT SUCKED!!!

The setting is a beach, but I see a chain link fence too, so it's strange. I don't see me, the setting all takes place through my eyes. I see you and I know there is another person on the sidelines, a girl. The dream kind of picks up with me trying desperately to get you to understand what I am telling you, what my point of view is, I'm trying to tell you that you told me I was the greatest love of your life and that when you lost me the first time you spent the next 27 years trying to find me and once you had you were not going to waste one minute without me and that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me I was saying this to you over and over again like I was trying to jog your memory. I was on one side of the chain link fence and you were on the other and off in the distance I could see this woman looking off at the ocean. You were just looking at me through the fence not saying anything but the gist of the feeling was that you were leaving me and going off with her and I was so mad that you didn't seem to get that the words I was saying to you were your words to me when you proposed to me. Then I woke up...feeling battered and bruised and completely defeated. What does it all mean, why is this happening, why am I dreaming this stuff?

And right up to the moment my fingers hit the keys to type that last paragraph the dreams had all been/felt of you cheating on me and leaving me for another woman. But as the words appeared on the screen it hit me that you did leave me, with another woman, and to the sea.  You left and Evelyn left and the ocean took you and I am stuck here, I can't get to you, I can't help you see to live.  I still don't understand the point of this, I know all this, why did I need to see it play out and be reminded again.

I'm sorry, but you are going to need to be much more clear in your messages because obviously I am clueless to what you are telling me.

This hole that I feel

Since our day on that rock I have been in a perpetual state of 'lost and overwhelm'.  I mean I know where I am, which is nowhere, but really I'm just going in circles here.

It seems my life 'after' has revolved around a hole. Weird right? Yeah. But, it's true. When you didn't ever wake up there was just this space, this big HUGE empty space left in my world.  Picture the deepest hole where once, you had stood. Do you see it?  Well, I woke up in that hole, and spent hours and hours, days, and months trying with everything I had in me to climb out of it. It was exhausting, disorienting, overwhelming and excruciatingly slow. Sometimes I would almost make it to where I could see light but got yanked back down time and time again. The only thing to do was get up and try again, so...I did. And I did and I did and I did.

I'm not sure when I climbed out, but I think I did.  At least, and I don't want to say this too loud in case I get pulled back down (I'm having enough trouble with up, I don't think I can handle down again) but I don't feel I am in a constant climb anymore.  Nope, now it's more like a circle the rim kind of feeling. I seem to hover just at the edge of dark and light with 'one false move' just laying in wait to push me in.

It's all just so fucked up. I mean what the hell is this crap, this living after loss shit. A manual comes with EVERYTHING...how to strike a match, how to use your blender, how to set up your phone etc, etc, etc.  But death and how to do it...nope!  And I know there are mountains of books out there, I've read many, but really, and I mean this in the sincerest way possible...THEY SUCK!  All the words, all the best advice, all my best intentions to do it 'right' mean nothing. When it hits you, you are no longer in control. No matter how well you want to do this thing...tough.  You will do it however 'it' says you will do it.

So yeah, I think I made it out just so I can circle around it. Yippee!  And let me just say...walking this path with a full set of tears ALWAYS at the ready is harder than you might think.  It's like trying to drive in a rainstorm without ever using the wipers. You can't see shit and you know the edge is near and you must stay away from it and the stress and pain and overwhelm is all just too, too much. 

Dear God it's just too much.  All I want to do is open my eyes and walk across the room in a straight line towards normal rather than shuffling through a minefield with tears hanging on my eyelids.  It's no kind of life...

Happy Thanksgiving

In spite of a mind that is not at rest and a heart that is broken still...for the love that I've lost, for the friend stepping on stars, for my son that is out of reach and family that is so far away. For all the injustices in the world, for all the hatred and destruction and too for the fear in their eyes.

In spite of it all and because of it all I am thankful.

I'm thankful for this roof over my head and the heat rising up from the radiators.

I am thankful for the clothes on my back and the running water that keeps them clean.

I am thankful for my pets who I love and love me in return.

I am thankful for my daughter who I worry about relentlessly and I'm thankful she is here to worry about. I'm thankful for the smile on her face that wipes the worry away if only for a moment.

I'm thankful for the friends I call family and the moments they choose to spend with me. And I'm thankful for the friends that I don't see or hear from often, I still hold them dear.

I'm thankful for the food inside of my fridge when so many go without.

I am thankful too for who I am, I'm good and kind and giving when so many are not and there but for the grace of God...

So you see, in spite of the pain and sadness inside my heart I am so very thankful for all that I have been given.

Happy Thanksgiving my David.  Happy Thanksgiving dear Evelyn.  And Happy Thanksgiving Mrs. C, I hope you are safe and sound and in good company.

Peace

Would Be 51

Happy Birthday my love.

Is that how you say it anymore?  After someone has died...Happy Birthday?!?  Should it be 'Happy Almost Birthday'?  or 'Happy Birthday that Wasn't'? or...oh who the fuck knows, truthfully I think all protocol was flushed down the commode when you took your last breath, the one that whispered loudly 'get out now'.

Your first 'after' birthday I cooked a meal you loved with drinks and dessert included.  Two of the kids were here with me and they just looked at me with pity written all over their faces and pretended it was just another meal and that I hadn't plunged off the deep end. I celebrated alone.

The second 'after' birthday I, along with all your friends and family, was invited to join your mom and sisters at a favorite restaurant of yours. To celebrate with dinner and drinks and shared memories. Boy this was a tough one to face, since you left I don't do well with being in public.  However, I arrived early to find no one else had come except the invitees and they had already finished eating.  Awkward. The smile I had pasted on my face before leaving the house remained as I ordered Margaritas and laughed and cried with your family. The women of your life were in so much pain yet trying to be brave and fake our way through.  Doing what appears to be normal yet felt anything but...

So this third 'after' birthday.  Well, it's just me.  The kids have made themselves scarce in my life.  And your family is no longer mine, we tried, for a good while anyway, but without you we just couldn't keep it up. I am sorry about that and I hope you understand. If they said I need you I would drop everything and run to them, always, for you.  But the rest we let go.

So, yeah, just me here and really, all I can do is talk to you in my head like I do every day and say Happy Day to you. Tell you I love you (again) and that I miss you (still) and wonder where the hell you are.

Happy Birthday my love...I miss you and I love you <3

49

I had a birthday.

Another one you were not here for. The third one actually.

I am 49.  An age you never saw for yourself. One age before the big one...50.

You were dreading getting older, you spoke of it often in the months before you died. I could tell you were going to be one of those people who got depressed over the progression of time. You were a sensitive and troubled soul.

You told me often you were going to die young. It wasn't until after the third or so time that I started to take notice for real. For me it was hurtful. Why would you keep telling me such a thing after I just found you again and committed the rest of my life to you. It's not like you were gently trying to warn me of what to expect in the near future.  It was more like 'woe is me...I'm not long for this world'.  Once I yelled at you about it.  Remember?

I had finally had enough of hearing it.  "Would you please stop saying that?  You say it all the time, too much actually. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?  Because that is what you are doing every time you say that.  It would kill me if it happened okay?  So just stop saying it".  Then I left the room and stood at the sink and washed a few glasses.  You came up behind me and hugged me for dear life and said "I'm sorry".  That was it. End of conversation.

And then you did. You freaking fracking frocking did. Just wow.

So now I am 49, which you never were, and I have been dreaming for a week of everyone dying. I never dream but now I am and it's only of death.

Happy Birthday to me!

How Interesting Is That

I wonder what it means when I sit down to write and there are no words in my head to write.  I've got nothing! I'm staring out the window waiting for words to just pour out. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting

Oh, there are words. It's not like there's dust and cobwebs taking up space in my brain, at least I don't think there is.  It's just that if I wrote what comes to mind it would look like this.

David. David. David. Evelyn. Evelyn. David. Dead. Gone. Cry. Cry. Pain. Cry. Tired. Broken. Cry. Tired. David. Evelyn etc. etc. etc.

So you see, how interesting is that?  Not very.  In fact it is kind of pathetic and sad.  Welcome to my world.

It's been 2 1/2 years today.  I don't know how that is even possible...it just happened. Didn't it? It is the most indescribable phenomenon. If I stop and think and count it adds up to what I just said, 2 1/2 years. But just in general, every day time, it was only last month. AT THE VERY MOST.  And each day is just a replay of that one day. It used to overwhelm me and stop me in my tracks. I spent the first year and a half learning how to breathe again because from the moment I climbed out of that 'well' it was different.  My body no longer did it automatically.  I still struggle with that, the breathing thing, from time to time, but I would say I've gotten back to 85/90 percent. 

I still cry just about every time I am in the car.  No idea why, it comes on so suddenly and my heart breaks all over again. There is no escape. Ever.

My scars are real. I see them when I look in a mirror, It's like a road map is looking back at me. I wonder ALL THE TIME what David would think of this me. He used to love me so much and think I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. I look at my reflection and think he wouldn't know me or want me. It's okay, it is what it is.

Anyway...that's all I've got.

You are my person

Hello? 

Are you there? 

I need to talk to you.  You are my person, remember, you told me so.  You said "Until the day you are no longer breathing, I will be your person...I promise."  We were watching my favorite show, Gray's Anatomy, and Meredith told Christina "You are my person" when she put her as emergency contact on a form. 

I turned my head to the right and looked at you, immediately feeling so safe and secure.  There are all these secret fears you have when you are single.  Who will see if I have a melanoma in the places I can't see; what if I choke while eating dinner...who will save me; who will be with me when I am old; how do I know this outfit looks awful on me before I leave the house; what if I have something in my teeth, or worse, in my nose; who will be my emergency contact once my current one, my parents, are gone from here.  Believe me, those are just a few. But with those words, 'I am your person, forever' I felt warm and safe.  Finally!

So, yeah, I'm in need of my person...I hope you are listening.

Mom called and left a cryptic message on the answering machine the other day.

"Hi honey, it's mum. I need you to look up something medical about Dad.  Call me back 

as soon as you get this."

Umm, sure. Okay, do I panic, not panic, what is appropriate here? Mom NEVER calls me, so there is that to consider.

I call immediately, which is actually several hours after she called me.  No answer.  OH. DEAR. GOD.  Now what?  I can't call her cell, she has no idea how to answer it.  When I was just out there her purse started playing a lovely song, so I looked over at her.  She was smiling and looking out the window as I drove us to town.  Still with the music.  

"Um, Mom, are you going to get that?" 

"Get what?" 

"Your phone." 

"What phone?"  

"The one singing a song from your purse." 

"I don't hear anything." 

"That's because it stopped." 

"Oh."  Back she goes to looking out the window...oblivious. 

"Mom?"

"What?"

"You think you should see who just called?"

"When?"

"MOM!  Did you have a stroke or something?  Your cell phone was just ringing...music playing all over the place.  Loud music. Want to check and see who it was, maybe, huh???"

"I was wondering what that pretty music was." as she fishes in a purse that is half the size of her...this takes at least 2 minutes.  Finally finding it she taps it and waits...nothing. Taps it again and waits... nothing.  Now she swipes a finger across the screen like she is conducting a symphony...nothing.   "I don't know how to answer it." as she throws it back inside her bottomless bag.

"Good thing you HAD to have an iPhone." UGH

And Dad doesn't  have a phone.  Well he does, but he doesn't know how to turn it on, and if he could he would never know what to do next.  So yeah, no help there!

Anyway, by 11pm with still no answer I go into a full on panic and put myself to bed.  The only time I'm ever safe from this life is when I'm asleep.

The next morning Mom returns my call(s).  "Dad was in the emergency room."

"WHAT?  WHY?" 

"Oh, he's okay, he's fine.  He was sitting talking on the phone and got this really bad pain in his right hip that went to his groin and eventually down his right leg. The pain got worse and worse as the day went on and he ended up getting severe nausea but never did vomit. He could hardly walk though." "Finally I said to him, let me know now if you think you may need to go to the hospital because I'm going to need time to do my hair and makeup first.  And that's when he said yeah, I think I need to go to the emergency room."  "For Dad to say that, you know it's bad." "But the on call Dr. said he thought it was just his sciatic nerve and gave him a shot and a prescription and sent us home.  The pain is really bad though and he can't lift his right leg, he drags it behind him when he walks...which he can hardly do, I have to help him to the bathroom." "So when can you get here (laughs)?"

See babe?  This is why I need you, you're my person and I need your help.  What the hell do I do now?  I've been dreading the time when my folks aren't able to do for themselves very well and this isn't necessarily that time yet but it has me thinking about that time, you know, when it gets here. You are supposed to be here for this...for me...I can't deal with this crap alone...especially now.  Before you, maybe, after you...most definitely not!  You took ALL my coping skills with you.  I've always been able to pick myself up and dust myself off and carry on after all that I have been through in life...now, I just don't have it in me. This thing with us...it broke me.  Before I would always jump to action and save the day, now I just want to run and hide.  Let someone else handle things.  Problem is, there is no one else.  I am that someone.

Do I move back there?  Did I really go through all that pain and anguish of leaving my family, my son, to come here and start a new life less than 3 years in the making, have that ripped away, my soul ripped out, just to turn around and go back?  I don't think I can. If I go back I fear I will be lost forever.  Other that my people there is NOTHING there, no friends, no prospect of a life...nothing.  How could it be I am supposed to return?  How?  What would I do with Gillian?  Oh God, but they need someone near and there is no one.  There is no one to help them daily or in an emergency.  No one.  I am that someone.

God I wish you were here to help me babe. I need someone to help me so damn bad.

Where the hell are you?????

 

 

*WARNING...Bitchy rant ahead! Read at your own discretion.

In a conversation recently, there was a lull.  I just turned my head and looked out the window lost in thought. Well that's not true exactly, I wasn't lost, I know right where I was. Today the vision was stronger than the current moment and it pulled me in. Not long, just until a string of words pulled me back to now, these words..."I know how you feel, I went through a divorce."

Please NO. Not you too.

I suppose you saw my lack of attention as a shared experience kind of moment.  Damn, I hate when that happens! Why?  Because you have got it so wrong and I don't want to feel 'less' about one more person. I try not to, always I do, but somehow I just can't help but think those 10 little words just brought your smarts down a peg.  Far too many times in that awkward need to say something...anything, people say the STUPIDEST, most insensitive things of all. I know it comes only from a place of good, never meant to hurt or offend, but it so would have been better to say nothing at all. Just be silent in the moment and wait for me, I will be right back, I'm never gone for long.

Please don't think that I believe your experience of divorce wasn't painful.  Oh it was painful...gut wrenching, drop to your knees, silent stare, soul sucking painful. That for you it may have been the single most painful experience of your life, I mean, statistically speaking it is way up there in the 'Most stressful life situations' category. It's excruciating.

I know. I do, really...I've been there too. 

I went through a divorce, a 4 year fight against a madman who knew the lay of the land, where I did not. I was warned, by him, "If you don't smarten up and get your ass home I will ruin you, discredit your name and turn everyone against you, take every last penny you have, leave you friendless, and take our baby boy from you." I wasn't afraid of him, I stood my ground and fought the battle of my life...and lost. He wasn't lying, he did everything he promised to do...and more.  But first!  First I had to go through a horrific marriage that I finally fled after 15 weeks of co-living.  Don't let the short time of 15 weeks fool you, when living it each day is an eternity.  I never had the pleasure of many wonderful years together living, loving, laughing, dreaming etc.  My marriage was one giant mind suck manipulation after another.  He was an ex Army Ranger who used psychological warfare on me to the best of his ability.  I was violently sick all the time, being poisoned does that to you I suppose.  Every night I went to sleep with a shotgun pointed at my head.  It wasn't until too late that I learned he was discharged under suspicion of severe mental 'inconsistencies' listed as psychotic and sociopathic behavior.  He never even made it past training.  And it was even later when I learned he was a pedophile. Wow...really!  Thanks for the heads up everyone!

So yeah, I've been divorced and lost custody of my baby by the time it was over.  But this, this other experience, well...there just aren't words to compare.

So no.  No, you do not know how I feel.  I can relate to how you feel, but you cannot relate to how I feel.  And you won't, ever, until the day you watch with your own eyes,  your husband and your girlfriend die.

At. The. Exact. Same. Moment.

Rant over.

This is Good

Found this on Soaring Spirits International, written by contributor Stephanie Vendrell:

I'm reposting for those in need, and there are many...Peace to you!


"The more I learn and understand about the grieving process, the more I also clearly see how deeply our culture is uninformed about it and how horribly damaging it can be to some of us already damaged by the loss itself. So be forewarned: this post is a bit of a rant.

I can’t remember ever in my life being taught anything about death other than the undercurrent of panic and fear of dying. We are not taught how to grieve, what feelings can be expected, or how to treat those who are grieving. It’s too bad, and kind of weird, because death happens all the time, everywhere, to everyone. The sad fact is, we have to figure it out ourselves by going through it. We have to search for counseling or support because for some reason our western culture likes to brush it all under the rug. To give a firm, fake smile and a quick pat on the shoulder as if to say, there, there now, everything is fine, get over it already, no one likes a sad mopey. We’d all like to go back to pretending death doesn’t happen, thank you.

So when we find ourselves suddenly members of this most terrible club we don’t quite know where to turn. After the initial brief days or, if you’re lucky, couple of weeks, during which family and friends come together to mourn with you, well, that’s it. Yes thankfully there are exceptions to this, but it has been my experience that for too many people it’s closer to, We’re all going back to our lives so you should too. And when you don’t, you either never hear from them again, or get: what’s wrong with you? You must be not right in the head. You must need medication. You must not understand that we have determined that the time for grieving is over and it’s time to put our blinders on again and paste on the smiles.

And then these uninformed morons either completely ignore you (because who wants a sad widow at a party?) or somewhat ignore you (sure come to the party but don’t you dare mention your dead husband) or even, shockingly, spout some kind of stern lecture about how you are not doing it right. I can’t even believe some people have the gall to do this sort of thing, but they do. Sometimes they try to compare losing your life partner to some other experience of their own. Yes a divorce can be awful. Yes that injury was painful. I get it. We all have our things. But you can’t use that shit to try and tell us we should be over it or don’t have a right to grieve in our own time - and you can’t tell me it’s really comparable. If someone you shared your life and home with hasn’t died you have no idea what you are talking about.

Just because we are participating in the world, just because we are going to work each day, just because we might even have a new relationship or enjoy ourselves at social gatherings does NOT mean we are “over it.” That our grief and sadness is still present should not surprise you. And we have a right to talk about our missing halves. We have a right to say, when asked how we’re doing, that we are feeling sad or missing them, and shouldn’t have to feel guilty about being honest. We have the right to cry and should not have to hide it. We don’t have the obligation to play all nicey-nice to the fake cheery world out there. We shouldn’t have to lie about our grief just to avoid making you feel uncomfortable or awkward. And if you are the kind of person who gets upset when we are sad, or avoids us just in case we might be, then you are no friend at all.

We widows and widowers know by now that we each have our own different timetables and ways to process the loss, which is an ongoing journey no matter how long it’s been. But others out there don’t know how it works. So I’m going to explain it clearly. We ALL are STILL GRIEVING AND ALWAYS WILL. It doesn’t mean we will be crying 24/7. But it means we will have bad moments. It means there are triggers and memories that hurt our hearts. It means sometimes we will be overwhelmed with loneliness even if we are not alone in the room. It means the pain of our loss has left a scar that will ride with us forever.

One day (and this is not a curse, but just a simple fact), unless you die first, it WILL happen to you…unfortunately it seems like this is the bottom line. Unless you are a very good grief therapist you probably will not really get it until then. Because there are no classes on bereavement in high school. Marriage does not require a seminar on what to do if your spouse dies. There are no flyers passed out when we are born that explain what happens when we die or how we will feel when our loved ones go before us. There are no lists of “what not to say” passed out at funerals either. (Maybe there should be.)

That said - there is good information on grief out there for those who make a point of looking for it. So I’m not going to go into all that again here. But I will give one simple piece of advice I learned from my own experience and felt should be put into words somewhere. Maybe some other widowed people out there might be able to use it one day to help the morons along a little.

If someone close to you is sad; if someone you care for is breaking down and clearly having a terrible time of it, just be there. Spare a little of your precious time, please. Hug us. Sit with us. Listen to us. Don’t lecture or try to change the subject to something cheery and unrelated. Don’t say lame open-ended things like let me know if you need anything or you know he is always with you. So many of us are dealing with this alone; just so alone - you may not understand our grief, but you can’t fix it. What we really need is a compassionate friend. We need support in our grief, not guilt for feeling it. So you can agree that it totally sucks. It sucks really, really bad. It’s awful and devastating and I’m so sorry and then hug us again and tell us you love us. And then do it again, and again, and again, until the sobs recede a little. Talk about our lost loved one. Ask questions about them, ask for stories, what we remember. If you knew them, tell some memories of your own. Tell us you understand how life will never be the same without them.

Just be there. It may not be easy (or fun), but it is simple, even though so few people ever take the time. So f***ing busy with their own lives and obsessed with their self-importance and misinformed sense of authority and denial and fake smiles and so strangely uncomfortable with someone else’s feelings.

It’s so sad. So sad that we damaged souls often suffer needless further damage in this often unfeeling and superficial culture. I feel so deeply sorry about it all."

Hello My Love

It has become cold, having just left summer and entered fall.  Leaves haven't started turning just yet, at least not many have.  Today it is pouring.  Well, actually the past 4 days it has poured water onto the ground. We needed it though.

It all started with the coolest sky I have ever seen...the full super moon solar eclipse.  Did you see it?  I wondered. Do you still see what I see? I remember when I used to travel and you would be here, we talked of how even though we were far apart all we had to do was look up and know that we each were seeing the exact same picture.  Somehow it made the distance seem not so big.  Silly, I guess, but comforting.

I watched for this red moon for hours thinking of the last super moon and how we kept running to the windows to see it and take pictures.  And I recalled the nights we sat on the back porch of our first apartment, all snuggled up under blankets, candles all around. We would stare into the sky talking of how vastly different it was from an Ozark sky.  You would point out the satellite skimming across every so many minutes and I wondered why I NEVER knew of it before you. You taught me that.  And of course, all of this made me miss you terribly once again.  Looking up has a way of making you feel tiny and insignificant.

I've been sick this week, seems I picked up something at Kate's on Sunday. Sitting with her I noticed I was getting more and more stuffed up, I was hoping it was just from a burning candle, but it stayed with me and by Monday night I was down for the count.  Didn't sleep a wink with a screaming raw throat, finally fell asleep around 5am and proceeded to stay asleep for 22 hours. Scared the crap out of me when I woke up two days later.  It made a world of difference though, I'm not tip top but I'm upright and awake!  

Last night I laid here on the couch thinking how crummy I felt and how hungry I was and how I SO did not want to get up and find and cook something but I'm alone, this is my life and this is how it is.  I have no one to look out for me or after me and no one to help me when I need it. There is no one to make me feel safe in this world anymore, you took that away when you left...you took many things with you when you left.  So many things.

I didn't want to get married, do you remember?  I mentioned it during one of our MANY phone conversations before we were ever face to face. I had been through such physical, mental and emotional hell during my 10 years in the Ozarks and I had erected such a fortress around my heart and soul. I had fought so hard for some kind of normal and happy with my two little babies and it worked. I learned to push all feelings and emotions down deep so that all that would show was happy and strong and thriving. My kids needed that from me. I made a good life for us far removed from society, we were happy, we were great in fact, at least as far as the children were concerned. In me though there was a whole world of missing going on. A whole big wide world. 

And then came you.

With one phone conversation you turned my little well built life upside down. In one hour you had managed to crack a brick in the walls I had built. That world of missing, I could hear it in your voice and it brought me to my knees because it reminded me of wanting. Nine months after that first phone call, knowing I didn't want to get married, you asked me anyway. You said 'I lost you once, I can't let that happen ever again'. How could I say no...three months later we were husband and wife. I finally knew what it was to feel safe, to feel cherished, to feel like I had one person in this whole entire world that would be by my side through great moments in life and the tragedies that come too. I felt so so safe knowing that you would be with me in those hard times and I wouldn't have to face them alone. I never dreamed the first tragedy to come for me would be your death and Evelyn's death.  My girlfriend died and you were not there for me to turn to, to help get me through. You couldn't hold me while I cried from the pain.  My husband died and she was not there to offer her always comforting words. To come running without being asked.  All of this happened seven weeks shy of our third year of marriage.  You made me take my walls down, my safety barrier, and then you left me alone.  I no longer feel safe or secure.  I don't even have the kids to distract me...they are grown.  I am on my own now learning to deal with the good the bad and the ugly all by myself. I haven't fully dealt with your death, I have mostly pushed it down deep inside.  And Evelyn, Heh, I almost can't even bear to begin that journey.  Dear God, how could I. If I can't sit in the reality of you drowning before my eyes how the hell am I supposed to sit in it with her.  As for my own near miss, ugh, that is a whole other issue.  And being the only survivor...forget about it.  I know I have only been grieving the loss of you, your absence from me and our life.  I haven't even begun to put into perspective the events of that day.  I'm not sure I will ever be strong enough for that.

Do you think I miss you love? Pouring these stupid thoughts out here like I can put a stamp on it and mail it to you. I suppose just thinking the thoughts gets them to you.  Who really knows.  I love you David, still, always.  You must know that in a head full of 10 words 7 of them are about you, right? Okay then...signing off.

Peace to you

P/S -  Please put your arms around Evelyn and hold her and hug her hard for me.  Tell her I love her so much and I miss her laugh and her face. Tell her I am so sorry we came to see her that day...we never should have gone.

A Good Heart

So I was thinking...

I had a conversation with my son Eric the other day.  He was telling me that he had driven by Grammy & Grampa's mailbox and noticed that Grammy had repainted it and it looked really beautiful.  He had wanted to stop in and tell her but he was in the middle of a 4-wheeler ride with a large group of people from church, so he couldn't, but he would for sure call her and tell her later.  Sweet kid.

After hanging up the phone I thought to myself what a beautiful heart this child has.  I mean really, how many 14 year old boys do you know would pay attention to a design on a mailbox?  Unless of course it was painted like an X-Box controller or something.  HA!  He paid enough attention to be able to bring it up hours later in a conversation.  I can't really even recall what the mailbox looked like before it's new paint job and I was just out there for 2 months. Really sweet kid.

A few nights later we talked again.  He told me all about how school was going and life in general.  His best friend, his dog Sammy, got sprayed by a skunk.  Oh No!!!  Eeeeew.  He said he had opened the front door and Sam just casually walked out and over to inspect this dark spot in the yard and that's when it happened...Blam...lethal doses of yuck filled the air and wrapped itself around poor curious Sam.  UGH  And then the chore to un-stink the stink began.  So so glad I was not there for this part of his life's adventure. 

As conversation was winding down I asked him, as I always do, "Is there anything else you want to talk about, anything else going on?"

Not really he says, then quickly adds, "well there is one kind of bad thing." My gut immediately twists...

"okay, lay it on me" I say.  

He says, "remember when I went on that 4-wheeler ride and I saw Grammy painted her mailbox?"  Yes.  "Well, I forgot to call her and tell her I like it.  I really wanted to tell her because how would she ever know someone liked it, who else will even see it, and who would call and say it's pretty to her?  I feel bad I forgot to call her.  I wanted to make her happy."

I don't say anything.  I can't. My heart has swelled so huge that it cuts off my airway and my words can't make their way out.  Who is this child of mine, this love of my life.  God he is such a good good boy.

Get a grip Kristen, say something.  "Oh honey, that's okay.  Only you know you didn't call, she won't be hurt because she didn't know.  And anyways, after 4 hours riding 4-wheelers in the blistering heat and dust, it's no wonder you didn't remember.  Don't give it another thought.  You are so kind to think of it though."

"Yeah", he says.  Dad's driving me over as soon as we hang up here.  I cut her a big bunch of our Sunflower's and I'm gonna run in real quick and give them to her and tell her the mailbox is beautiful."

"You are?  Right now?" 

"Yup, we're headed into town but I wanted to do this first before I forget again."

I'm stunned.  All I can say is "I love you so very much Eric, you have a really good heart. You are such a nice boy, you are thoughtful and kind and caring of others.  I'm so lucky God gave you to me.  You are about to make Grammy very happy today. Please tell them I say hello and hug them for me, okay?"

"I will mumma, well I need to go so we can get over there and into town before it gets too late."  "Okay handsome, love you and I'll call in a few days.  Be safe! Bye babe." "By mumma."  I hear kissing sounds and then a dial tone.  He always kisses me through the phone. I am so in love with this boy!

I sit thinking about his heart, the one that is planted inside the vehicle that is his body. I know, strange, but since I lost my husband I tend to think things on a much deeper level. I am always saying/thinking my son has a really good heart. But...isn't a heart just an organ?  It pumps blood, and that is all?

It can't be a heart that is good. Right?  Oh, I know, it is good, in the sense of the job it has of keeping the vehicle alive.  Kind of like the roots of a tree. Without them the tree would die.  So if this is true then do we not attach too much emotional significance to the heart? Is it really not just an organ?  No one says "you have a good liver", or kidney or spleen.  Right? Are they not kind of the same thing...all organs that help run the machine that is our body?

What happens then when the heart dies?  If the heart is all that was good in a person, as we so often attribute it, then when that vehicle stops being alive all is lost?  It can't be. That goes against everything we have ever been taught. Right? It does. Whether you agree or not.

It's the soul that is good then, not the heart, right? It is the soul that is the light of our being.  It is the soul that drives the vehicle that is our physical body.  Not the heart. So why do we all say things like...bless his/her heart, he/she has such a good heart, when what we really should do is replace the word heart with soul. Am I right?

And who is it that decided love is the shape of a Valentine's heart?  Is it because to picture love as the venous muscle that it really is would be gross? Is this muscle even really where all emotions live?  No.  I think it's the soul. It has to be. I can't bear to think that when the love of my life died all his feelings and emotions stopped when his heart did.  That would mean...that would mean...no, I can't think it and I can't say it.  It is the soul then.  The soul makes someone good and kind and loving, the soul is where all emotions dwell.  It is the soul that is energy and light which carries on once the heart stops beating so then the heart really is just a muscle. Got it!

We have all just been saying it wrong all our lives.  Bless his heart...he has such a good heart. Maybe so...but the soul is the thing.  The soul is the real deal.

The soul is where it's at.

Mary Jane

These past several weeks have been bad, really bad.  Not in the sense of being embroiled with visions and memories of the accident or long crying jags for missing my husband, not that that doesn't happen from time to time still, but something has it's grips on me. I don't know what it is.  I've been calling it anxiety but I don't know if it is.  Someone on WWS mentioned depression but I don't know if it is. It's bad though, really bad.

If I'm being honest there has been a slight touch of this in me for about a year, a slight touch.  Now, huh, now I am ALL this new thing with a slight touch of me quivering in the darkest corner of my soul hoping the evil monster doesn't realize I'm still there hiding, trying to gain strength to fight. Praying I can conquer this unwanted entity and reign queen of my mind once again.

It started small, but seemed big at the time.

The phone would ring and immediately I would tense and think "Oh my God, someone wants something from me, I've got nothing left," and with fear in my eyes I would answer the damn phone. Wait! What? Seriously...what is that all about?  It's the phone dumb ass, just answer it, it even tells you who is calling...no surprises there!

See, small but big.Then it morphed into something else.

About six months ago I noticed I would look at my To Do list...call so and so, go to such and such store, make such and such appointment etc., easy right?!  WRONG!  I would immediately tense up, and my mind would race like wildfire.  Here we go...Okay Kristen, let's start with item one shall we?  Call so and so. Um, yeah, I can't. Why? Well, I'm really not sure, I just can't. Sure you can...just pick up the phone and dial. Oh, is that all?  Just pick up the phone and dial?  If it was that simple would I be having this ridiculous conversation with myself? Don't you think I know JUST PICK UP THE PHONE AND DIAL?  I know how to do this...I just CAN'T. 

For an hour this would go on, me mentally kicking and screaming and begging for the ease of it. The ease that I so did/do not feel. An hour of beating myself up, holding my head in my hands, rocking back and forth crying "why can't I do this".  And then I would...I would pick up the phone and dial, and wait and listen.  "Hello?" "Hi Mom...how are you?" 

I did it...cross item one off my list.  What's next? Go to such and such store...okay, let's do this. Grab phone, purse, keys and let's go.  Easy Peasy!  Start the car, open sunroof, turn on tunes...sing and bop to the music.  Life is good!  Um...hold up.  I can't go in there.  What?  Why? Don't know, by mind and body is screaming I can't go inside there.  Huh...I wonder why?  Is there a madman inside do you think?  No, of course not...I'm the damn madman you idiot.  Clearly.  I just spent an hour fighting with my brain and my arm to pick up the damn phone and call my mother.  Madness?  Yup, I think so.  Now I'm sitting in front of the store where I buy food for my daughter and I.  And I can't go in.  Madness?  Oh shit yeah.  I am so fucked it's not even funny.

What in God's name is happening to me? Seriously? Have I not been through enough? Is God just up there thinking "Oh there she is, looks as though she can take just a little bit more...blam...now she's a semi functioning idiot." Well thank you very much! 

NOT!!!!

Some days I just pace in circles fighting an internal battle with my brain.  That tiny little me hiding in the corner is waging a war with the evil that is holding me hostage to myself.  All I want is to be normal but this thing won't allow that.  It wants all of my soul and is pissed off that there is still the tiniest piece in MY control.  I'm not sure I can win this but I will not give up, I'm still trying.

Yesterday was bad.  I have a 'gathering' with friends to attend today and I offered to bring a salad and roasted potatoes. Do I have that in the house?  Nope. Do I need to go to the market? Yup.  Craap! For an hour and a half I fought and cried and paced and begged for help.  I pleaded with David, Evelyn, my Grandmother...anyone up there who gives a crap about me to please help me get over this nonsense, to please help me get out of this house.  I had made it in to my room to change out of 'hang around the house' clothes and looked in the mirror. Oh God, I look HORRIBLE!  Just change and go to the store Kristen...this isn't a beauty contest. I can't! What should I put on? OH. MY. GOD. You have freaking got to be kidding me. Just grab those shorts there and a baseball cap and run to the damn store. Um...I can't. Holy shit!  Grab my head crying, PLEASE HELP ME!!! I started to leave my room, clearly unable to change right now. Wait? What? Did I just hear the word pot? Oh my God.  Yes! Why have I not thought of this until now.  Why have I been fighting this horrible demon for all this time and not even considered it. Thank you David!

Okay, here goes.  Where is that stash I confiscated from my child 4 years ago? Is it still even good? Should I really do this? What if the house smells? What if I smell? Oh no...paranoia is creeping in and I haven't even found the bag yet. Seriously, I am such a mess, will this even help? I've heard there are beneficial aspects to it...medically speaking. But in this house it is a big no no. I'm all about teaching my child the dangers of it and the damage it will cause her brain.  Yadda yadda yadda. Should I really do this?  AH HA!!! Found it! Okay, good, let's see if this really can help.

Where should I smoke it?  Can't do it in my room it will stink and my kid will know. In the kitchen?  Pft...no. Bathroom! No, neighbors might smell it. They aren't even home stupid, you've got the house to yourself so to speak.  Ok, I will start in the kitchen, take it out of the bag and see what all I've got. Open one zip lock...take out bag, open that zip lock, take out another bag...open third (or 4th, I lost count) zip lock, take out THE bag. Rolling papers, lighter, smokeless pipe, roach clip, film canister with pot in it, and a half smoked joint.  WOW Look at all this stuff I laugh, paranoia floating all around me.  I don't care, I'm doing this! But where? Bathroom it is. Out the window...no neighbors might see me. Near the window, I'll do it near the window in the bathroom so the smoke can go outside.  I attach the roach clip to the half smoked joint, grab the lighter and head to the bathroom, look outside to see if anyone is around.  Nope, I'm good.  Click (that's the lighter) and suck, did it light? Don't think so, oh yeah, the edge of the paper lit...suck some more. Did I get anything. Doesn't taste like it.  Watch in the mirror dummy!  Ok, light it again and suck, just a small suck, got it! Now I am coughing all over the place and the room STINKS.  Shit.  Put it out, spray Glade Balsam Fir room spray.  Awesome!  Now it smells like burning pine needles in here.  Oh yeah, my kid will know instantly.  I'm screwed.  And all for nothing, I didn't even really get a hit. Will it still smell at 2am when she gets home?  I sure hope not. Run to the kitchen to wrap, wrap, wrap, and wrap it all up again to hide it once more. I laugh, what a paranoid fool I am.  HA

Wait!  Heeeey, guess what?  My mind is clear, it worked. Holy shit, it worked.  Unbelievable.  I hardly even got a hit, so now I know...the smallest possible amount helped tremendously.  I figure this all out as I'm changing.  Yup, changing...and I didn't even realize I was doing it.  HA!  Damn this stuff is great!  Off to the store I go, got what I needed, load the car and look up.  Oh, I've needed to go there since May.  Lock the car and head over.  March myself through the door. 

Wow, just...wow! 

Relief.



PS...Don't judge me! ;-)

Grief is isolating

I just read that somewhere. 

Grief is isolating.

It so is to! Damn. I have worked so freaking hard from the very beginning of this crazy mixed up journey to 'get out there', 'do', 'live'. Well, ya know what?  It ain't working!!!

Two years and 4 damn months into this shit storm and I'm screaming UNCLE...I'm tapping out. Let me out of this ring now...don't want to be here and I definitely don't want to play this stupid game anymore. I feel like I am the definition of isolated.  Look in the dictionary and there I am pretty as a picture wrapped inside the meaning of the word.  God, could I be any more pathetic?

Where am I?  Where did I go?  Am I coming back? Will I know me when I see me?  Will you?  Ugh!  What the hell man.  Not only do we have to come to terms, whatever that means, with the fact that our spouse has left the building but now we have to figure out where the hell we went? Craap!

All these many many months clawing my way through the muck that my life is and this is where I end up?  Isolated.  Alone.  Again...what the hell man.  Why can I no longer find the words to carry on a conversation, why do I cringe when asked to do something or go somewhere?  Why? 

Is it always going to be like this? Will I ever be able to feel joy again?  Will I laugh again with more than just my voice? Will I be able to do what needs to get done without thinking it to death and making myself crazy.  God, the questions.  The boat loads of questions and not one single answer.

Stick a fork in me because I am done!

Losing the will...

It's been an interesting time. All these months, two years worth of months, and I think I am finally losing my mind...and my will.

I'm not sure what is happening to me, my anxiety level has reached epic heights. I am paralyzed. I am turning inward. I'm losing my words.  My brain won't ever stop running.  I cry all the time.  I can no longer put one foot in front of the other...and I'm scared.  All. The. Damn. Time. 

I spend all day, every day, alone.  Well, except for weekends.  Weekends I still manage to drag myself to visit with friends.  I don't want to half the time, I have nothing to say. I just can't carry on a conversation with anyone anymore.  My friends, they don't know, they wouldn't get it, and why would they? This hasn't happened to them and they have families and jobs and lives.  I do not.  They know nothing of how I feel, how I am.  They don't ask and I don't tell.  I am a friend who once had everything they do and now has nothing.  I don't talk because they won't understand, can't understand. I just don't fit in this puzzle anymore.

To say that I am lonely is laughable because what I am is a prisoner inside my head and no one can hear me scream.  I thought my life had been spared because I was needed here but that was just a stupid lie.  The kids don't need me anymore, they are too busy building their own lives, as they should be.

I don't want to play this game anymore.

Losing Ground

I can feel the rungs of this ladder that I'm on, break away with each step. I can feel myself losing ground.

This is not a life...I am not living.  I breathe because my body does not know how not to, but I am not alive. I am just fooling everyone. 

It's been two years.  Two damn years and I cannot get past this feeling of soul sucking sorrow. I am slowly slipping away.

I can tell you the constant visions stopped, so there is that. That peace came at the two year mark. I still see it all, hear it all, but NOTHING like it was, so yeah...there is that.

I miss you love.  All I do is slip around this house like a ghost, a ghost of the person I was before. I still look out the window in the bathroom like I used to do when I knew you would be coming home.  I would watch you pull in and stop to get the mail. You were so damn handsome with your sunglasses on and your work clothes. You never knew I was there with my heart overflowing, did you? I still look but you don't come. Nothing is the same here, now it is silent. There is no love or laughter or joy here. There are no kids here.  It is just me, yet not.

I am a prisoner inside my head.  I am a prisoner inside this hell.  All the trying and crawling and climbing and trying some more have done nothing but distract me to time passing. I am no better and I just feel lonelier.

I miss you love...I miss you.

Graduation

Well I got my oldest graduated! 

 I say that like I alone am responsible for this magnificent accomplishment.  I know I'm not...believe you me.  But I do know that my experience in this 12+ year endeavor was mine alone.  My worries and my fears were all mine.  The stress...mine.

Our educational journey, Gillian's and mine, began on the floor of her bedroom before she could even walk or crawl...I see it so very clearly. I had bought a plush cream colored area rug that almost met all four walls of her room.  It hid the nasty old, as in double digits old, brown carpet of that room.  We lived in an apartment.  Carpet in an apartment should be replaced every two years!!! Eeeeew, but I digress...

The beginnings of life for my baby girl happened on that plush cream colored rug.  So many important life lessons started right inside the clean little bubble of her nursery.  It is where I helped her learn to roll over.  I would gently roll her tiny body from back to front and then back again. She would start to whimper when she realized she couldn't see me, then smile huge when I rolled her back.  I taught her where her eyes were and her ears and her nose, she learned she had 'stinky feet' and mommy always wanted to 'eat them up'.  She learned to 'pat-a-cake', and that I loved her 'so big'.  She learned 'arms up' when I changed her dress or shirt, and she would whimper when she couldn't see me, then smile huge when her face emerged from under the clothes.  She was taught 'peek-a-boo' which was not an immediate hit, again with the whole 'can't see mommy' thing. And it is in just those moments of fright that I was teaching her the most important lesson she would ever learn in her entire life...Mommy could ALWAYS be found. It was on that cream colored rug that this child of mine was learning that no matter what, I would do my best to be with her when she needed me most and I would have her back always. Whether she liked it or not! 

I have taught her EVERYTHING!  Well, maybe not calculus or the metric system, and definitely not string theory or the evolution of man.  But...well...I did teach her to read and write and add and subtract.  Her teachers spent years expounding on all of that of course so they do deserve some credit <wink>.  It was me that taught her to be kind and compassionate.  It was me that showed her that coloring outside the lines was perfectly acceptable because sometimes maybe those lines shouldn't have been there in the first place. It was me that taught her that being a 'lady' was very important, but being a lady who got dirty and sweaty playing in the mud was cool as hell.  She learned from me to treat creatures well and with respect...live and let live, and that it is perfectly acceptable to smash that little critter to bits when it is midnight and you find it crawling under your covers.  She learned that women can and should be able to do for themselves first, if someone wanted to come along and help carry the load then smile and say thank you but if not then she needs to be able to say "I've got this".

She learned many hard lessons far too early in life and she has handled them with grace.  She learned a simple life, growing up in the Ozark Mountains, but it is there too she learned about abuse, about lies, about deception, about betrayal and about hurt.  She watched her Mom go through it all, and I can only hope that my behavior, my actions and my strength made a lasting impression for how a woman can kick ass with grace and dignity.  And at 13 she learned what it was like to leave her brother, her grandparents, her home and belongings, and the only life she's ever known , behind and start all over...new place, new people, new life.  At 13 she learned what it was like to, finally, have a Dad.

It is here in Rhode Island that she became a 'classically' trained teenager <sigh> much to this mother's dismay...Oh, I know I'm not alone...but aren't we really?  I mean each of our experiences is our own personal experience, there may be similarities but still...you are not me, you don't know how I feel.  Nor I you.  So, even though there are  like a gazillion Mom's out there I think it is acceptable to say "I feel alone" sometimes. (insert picture of arms crossed over chest and foot stomp here).  Her learning morphed into a whole new entity.  The words I taught her...she won't use them!  Ugh!  At least not with me...silent treatment...just because.  She learned to push her luck and to push my buttons.  She learned the fine art of shock value and it's effects on Mother.  (Ha!  Joke is on her...I outwardly 'love' every look she creates while cringing on the inside.  I think she 'hates' me for it...score for Mom!)  She learned to assert her independence in all the wrong places. It is about now that she also learned an excruciating life lesson. Less than 3 years into our new life with the only Dad she has known, he died very unexpectedly.  She saw her Mom broken to pieces on the floor trying desperately to put herself back together, I'm still trying...every minute of every day.  I hope she can appreciate this and be proud of me for it some day.  Her pain is her look I believe. She has also learned that she doesn't fit in at her school...jocks and cheer leaders and bullies, oh my!  So she appointed herself part of the misfits group, and they made her the leader.  Why wouldn't they, she is stunningly beautiful and she wants to hang with them, she is trendy and completely outside the box with her looks (insert picture of purple mow-hawk, pierced septum and small gauges in her ears, and tattoos everywhere), she gets great grades without much effort, and she drives everyone around everywhere.  Why wouldn't they make her their leader??!? Let me add that the description above doesn't do justice to how she looks.  As much as I hated the gauges, the piercing and learning of all the 'home' tattoos her 'friend' did on her,  she rocks it all.  It's subtle as opposed to the in your face with studs collars kind of look.  My girl is a beauty and whatever look she creates for herself, I must say, she wears it well.  To me she is a really cool shit.  

So yeah...last night the girl I've taught everything I know, including the hard lessons, graduated high school.  She did it with a NHS award, a plaque on the wall at school, an art award, a high GPA and a diploma.  God bless her...she did it and I am deliriously proud.  All my stress and worry and angst can leave now...HA, yeah right!  I wonder what I will worry about next.

Peace Out!

My Rock, My Wild and Beautiful Tree

Two years...those small words mean nothing to me, other than to count how long I have been crawling, how long I have been lost, how long I have lived inside pain and darkness.  How long I have been fighting without you.  They mean nothing because it still feels like yesterday.  

It is an odd experience, you know...where you poor people died and yet were freed.  Where I and those who loved you were not.  I walk this earth with that day like a ball and chain.  I can not run, I can not hide.  I can only grow accustomed.  But free...never.

I keep a jar on the windowsill, inside are the moments I feel joy.  It hits me every now and again that I have not unscrewed the lid in a while so I make stuff up, I want there to be many moments.  I need there to be many moments.

I miss you both.

Evelyn...I miss your voice, your laugh, your advice.  I miss your face.  I miss your friendship and our talks.  The private moments between just you and me sharing our truths. I miss your crazy.  God how I miss you Eve.  I visit the neck from time to time, I sneak in and then sneak out.  I sit where we sat and I remember the things you told me, the things we said that day.  I remember it all, and I cry.  I cry for you, I cry for me, I cry for your beautiful boy and all the friends you left behind. I cry for your life cut short and your joy being extinguished.  I shake my head then I stand and walk away. I love you sister, my wild and beautiful tree.

My David...The hole inside me grows bigger and I fear that soon I will just collapse inward, never to look out and around again. It scares me huge and I fight it big. every. single. day.  I miss the scent of you. I miss your oh so handsome face. I miss your hands and their touch. I miss your love. I miss being in love. I miss taking care of you. I miss your smile.  I miss your laugh and I miss your voice.  As I write this I feel a little more of me dying. I have yet to reach a place of peace. I have yet to reach life. What I am doing can not be called living, not yet, but I hope some day. I'm working at getting my body stronger then maybe my head will follow.  I love you my sweet man, my rock.  I just so love you.

And still I shake my head in wonder of it all.

When great trees fall,

rocks on distant hills shudder,

lions hunker down

in tall grasses,

and even elephants

lumber after safety.

When great trees fall

in forests,

small things recoil into silence,

their senses

eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,

the air around us becomes

light, rare, sterile.

We breathe, briefly.

Our eyes, briefly,

see with

a hurtful clarity.

Our memory, suddenly sharpened,

examines,

gnaws on kind words

unsaid,

promised walks

never taken.

Great souls die and

our reality, bound to

them, takes leave of us.

Our souls,

dependent upon their

nurture,

now shrink, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and informed by their

radiance,

fall away.

We are not so much maddened

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance

of dark, cold

caves.

And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly.  Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed.  They existed.

We can be.  Be and be

better.  For they existed.

- Maya Angelou

Hold onto the Joy

The past few days have been simply beautiful, the sky blue, the air warm and the sounds delightful.  This time of year brings me huge amounts of joy.

It is chilly in the house, so in the moments of down time and I can't stand the cold another minute I have been going outside to read, to warm up. Yesterday I was struck by the sounds of traffic, lawn equipment throughout the neighborhood, birds chirping, dogs barking and the voices of people I can't see from here. I felt JOY, plain and simple. Outside is where I am at my best, soaking in the heat of the sun and the sounds of life.  It was good.

I sat thinking of our many conversations of getting the kids graduated so we could finally move to an ocean paradise and live the rest of our days. The little beach side B & B we wanted to run with a tiki bar right on the sand. The excitement that would build the longer we talked, the plans and ideas that poured out. Yeah...the excitement, we were so ready for this next chapter, we had a ways to go, but we could see the light...

Sitting in the sun, soaking in the warmth, I look around and you are not here. I am alone in my memories and the joy trembles, it becomes blurry. I shake my head to dislodge from the past because I am not ready to visit there for long. It hurts too much. It just hurts too damn bad. I enter alone and I leave alone. Some day I will be able to go all the way in, but today isn't some day.

I once again hear the birds chirping and the dog barking and I reach back for that joy and hold on with all my might. I need this joy dammit!

I miss you my love, I miss you in a way that feels like every bone in my body is breaking from the power of it. 

Oh well, time for me to go back inside to the cold empty home we once shared.