how did i get here?

my husband, my beautiful Dragon, died suddenly at 12:03 AM on 9 February 2009. there was a cold, lovely full moon and 3 feet of snow on the ground. i "slept" for the following 10 months and "woke" to the physical and emotional pain and torments of deep grief. i "woke" to find i had moved the day of his funeral and that i am lost. i am looking for me while i figure out the abstract, unanswerable questions that follow behind any death. my art has evolved. his death changed that as well because i am forever changed and will forever bear the mark of losing the only man i can ever love.
there is alive and there is dead and there is a place in between. i am here wholly in my heart for my children, but i feel empty inside at this time. i miss him. i have not gotten very far in my grief journey. i make no apologies for this.
this is my place, my blog, where i write to tell the universe that i am still here.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Soul Widows Spiritual Retreat ~ Five ~ Saturday ~ Meditation

i was not the first to go to her room to try for sleep, and only a widow or widower knows what i mean when i say "try" for sleep. but i did sleep in the Whimsy Room. and i woke early as is my habit. it was still dark outside and i felt cocooned in that lovely, small space. so much had gone on the day before, so much enlightenment. i wanted to quietly explore this old inn. i wanted to mull over what i had experienced on Friday, and gather my strength to face the revelations that were to come. we were going to be talking about isolation and that is a heavy subject for me.i walked downstairs and peered out the old door. dawn had arrived. so lovely. so soft. i like this time of day.
i had seen her when i first put foot on the porch, but there was a carved wooden angel i wanted to visit with. her expression is somber and it seemed she carried her own sorrows. but she is solid and firmly sitting there. she is close to the door but not beside it. she is beside the window to the alcove where we talk and laugh, and sob. i asked her if she listened to us, but she kept her silent counsel and i smiled at the wisdom of it. sometimes all you need to know is that someone is sitting there. sometimes there are no answers to the trouble. but to have a friend who comes to you in the darkness in your soul and is willing to keep vigil is enough. it made me think of the women still asleep upstairs.
i wandered down the porch to a twig bench and i sat and had my quiet communion with my beliefs. i pray. what i mean to say is, i have 4 prayers i say and i hope it does not sound rote to God and the other Holy names i speak to. but i also have a conversation. i am not a good Catholic. i wish i were. i have not found a way to the closest Catholic Church since i have lived here and i admit i am getting tired of fighting for it. so i talk to Him.

before my Dragon died, i only prayed my prayers twice a day. now, since my Dragon died, i have conversations, much like when i talked to my Dragon. i do not expect an answer, or one right away, and yet somehow, with regards to faith, i do not feel alone. and that is all i will say about faith, not religion, faith. i do not impose but in revealing with honesty about my morning meditations, i will speak to it.
as the day brightened and i heard stirrings and footfalls on the stairs inside, i sat on the steps for a self portrait in homage to the architecture, the treasures placed all about, and to nature. i love this inn. it is a refuge. it was a perfect place for a spiritual retreat.
i went inside and found my tribe smiling, talking loudly as women well acquainted will do, and the wonderful smells of a hot breakfast.


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