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.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

a thousand ways i miss you

 a thousand ways i miss you.

seeing your eyes crinkle when you smiled.
watching you while you were lost in thought.
admiring the sunlight on your hair.
gazing at your lips when you spoke.
all these moments are memories now.

there are thousands of things i miss.

starting to talk about the same thing at
the same time using the same words,
and catching ourselves, and laughing.
your hand on the small of my back as you
guided me in front of you, then holding my hand
after we got inside.
watching you drive, looking down at your hand on my leg.
we were never not touching each other.
i miss that.

a thousand ways i miss you.

the simple everyday things we did,
talked about; it's all over.
the nights, and afternoons,
and mornings, of loving, are all gone.
you, you are all gone.  no more a physical presence
in my life.
no more fooling myself that you are "just away."
no more illusions.  no more delusions.
you lay down and died and i miss you more as time passes.

thousands of ways i miss you.

you don't have a key to my apartment, but your
shoes are in the closet, and your clothes are in the dresser.
i no longer get mail in your name and that bothers me more than when i got mail in your name.
you never lived here with me and yet i have kept signs of your existence all around.
hundreds, millions! ~ thousands of ways i miss you.
i am less without you.

a thousand ways i miss you.

going to bed alone at night knowing your warm body is gone.
opening the refrigerator door to see an almost empty pitcher of tea,
knowing it's up to me to make more.
some days are over bright and the sunlight is harsh.
rainy days are lonely without you to talk to.

a thousand ways i miss you.

waking up to the cruelty of the alarm
facing another morning, another day without you.
laughing at a show on television and turning to look at you ~
oh, yeah.
crying over a song lyric and turning to find your arms ~
having something nice happen, or something bad, coming home to tell you
all abut it ~ so i tell the dogs and tell myself they understand.

i miss you in a thousand ways.

my feet hurt to high Heaven, but that's where you are,
so you can't rub my feet.
 my shoulders ache and burn, but
i can't massage my own shoulders.
my calves cramp and i can massage them, but not like you can/could.
your hands were strong.
and oh, my stars, my hands hurt,
especially the one i broke.
i wish you could rub my hands.

but you can't.

{the next one is for you.}


Debbie said...

Beautiful...simply beautiful. By the way, how's the new job? Life has been overwhelming here lately but hopefully it's all settling down to a dull roar and I can get more time on the computer. I hope... I wish you peace.

abandonedsouls said...

i've missed talking to you. i'm sorry like is overwhelming. i hope it's just simple busy-nes with school and your sons, nothing bad. i'm gonna email you.

Anonymous said...

: ) a lurker here - for a long time. But I love this, so simple, so true. My missing is for my son Jon gone two years now. He would be 29 years old and if things had gone according to plan I would be holding a fresh grandbaby.
But truly it is the million little things that sting the most. I wish you peace in your longings.

Sandy said...

Oh Susan, this is absolutely beautiful! We both have so many pieces missing from our life....

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