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.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Christmas letters

my dearest Dragon,

it is Christmas time again.  this will be my 6th Christmas without you.  no one knows this; funny how people just assume it's "better," that it's all okay now, but it is still so very hard without you.

you loved Christmas.  it was your time to really settle back and reflect, enjoy, accept, and sigh with happiness that we were married, that you and i were us.  it was the closing of the year and you always looked to a brighter tomorrow.  always.  it was simply your nature.  and your gift to me.

what has changed since you've died?  my hair is more silver now.  i'm much thinner, by 45 pounds.  i'm overall healthier.  i do everything the doctor says with regards to my diabetes and blood pressure.  i do hurt a lot.  my knees, my feet, my hands.  also my right arm is pretty bad off but can't really do anything about it more than i am doing.  i cannot afford the time nor the financial obligation that would come with having the surgery so i live with the pain.  the pain is nothing compared to the pain of being without you.  {time has not diminished my memories of your laugh, your touch, your glance.}

i work very hard at a retail job.  it is demeaning at times and other times, it seems like i touch people's lives with a grace that feels nice to give.

i have a grandson that is the light of my life.  curious, joyful, innocent.  he is the best of all of us rolled into one small soul.  Christmas will be nicer with him here.  i wish you could be with us.  i know you already know him, probably met him up in Heaven right before he was born.  

our two rescue dogs, Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums are still with me.  we are besties.  they sleep on the bed with me.  they wait for me to come home from work.  we hang out.  i adore them.  they are my confidants, my roomies, my friends, my family as well.  and they are both getting older.  i see the slow fading starting with them.  it is going to devastate me when they pass.  i won't be able to handle it and yet somehow i will carry on but ..... such huge pieces of me are being taken.  all the "headstones along the way."

my "courage is lesser to do and dare."  i'm getting older.  creeping up on 6 years since you died in Feb. of 2009.  i don't feel as deeply as i used to but then i think maybe i feel too deeply and i cannot let it show.  i keep it hidden.  i find myself calming myself, telling myself to breathe.

i keep going. i simply keep going.  i do not want to die yet.  i want to see my grandson get older.  i want to see my son find a girl and get married.  i want to sit quiet and watch everyone.  i simply want to be a quiet part of it all.  take pictures.  smile.  keep it all inside.  cherish it.  so that maybe, just maybe, someone or something doesn't take anymore away from me.

merry Christmas, my love.  i am still married to you.  i have not taken off my rings.  i find i cannot.  i still adore you.  you still are, and ever will be, my magnificent Dragon.

your Bunny.


My lovely, soulful, gentle Bunny,

You are still my beautiful Bunny as much as I am still your Dragon.  I do watch over you every day.  I am the one who helps Carmen and Scootie still be able to leap up into bed beside you.  To keep you warm.  To keep you company.

Yes, I met our grandson.  He's just like you.  Everyone sees his mother in him, his great grandfather, but later on, when he's learned to talk, when he's older and interacts with his family and the world, they will all see that he is just like you.  He is gentle and an observer.  He will love animals and colors and see the world like you do; because he will look to you as much as he looks to his mother for this.  She is her mother's daughter and together, you and she will guide him and he will be a beautiful soul.  He will change the world one person at a time, just like you do.  You do not see how your kindness affects the people you meet through your job.

I wish I could be there to help ease your aches and pains.  I wish I could fix your arm.  I wish, oh how I wish I could be there with you.  But know that, as much as I can, I am with you.  You made it Christmas every day for me with your love.  

I am now and evermore your husband.  Remember my promise to you, my wedding vow?  It wasn't "till death do us part."  It was "until the sun grows cold and the stars grow old."  So look to the heavens.  The sun still burns hot and the stars are all still so very young.  You and I have Eternity.

~ Dragon

Thursday, November 13, 2014


it has been 5 years 9 months. 

i am doing okay.  i still stress about work, money.  even though i have improved my living situation, {i love my Sanctuary} i have lingering fears that bad things will happen.  it's a sickness that i struggle with daily.  i'm working on it.

i miss him and i think of him.  not constantly but every day.  i wonder where he is ~ really.  i wonder how he feels, what he's doing, if anything.  all the stories and movies in the world cannot tell you what being gone from this life is truly like.

only when we ourselves pass will we know.  enlightenment.  finally finding out.

will he be there waiting for me?  will God be there and ........ will He accept me as i am?

enlightenment.  scary stuff.

because when it is my time to go, i cannot say "let me stay a little longer."

because when i go, i'll finally know.

and once you know, you cannot un-know it.

i'm hurting inside.  i guess you can tell.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

in the company of loneliness

for those who asked:  my Sanctuary at the moment.  still working on it.

looking down into my foyer.  the hanging on the door to the right blocks the window that looks into the garage.
 still working on it, most of my boxes are unpacked and most of the painting is done.
 i do have almost all my beloved books out in here
 and the stairwell.
 these photos are a couple of weeks old and more has been done...
 but i haven't posted in a while and wanted to let any readers who may still be out there that
i am still here.

i love my Sanctuary.  it's more than home, it really is a place to come hide, to relax, to be myself.  i do feel safe here.  

i miss him a great deal but missing him is like walking and talking with someone who truly understands what i've been through/am going through.  i talk to him about things.  mostly i talk to myself though.  i am talking to my grief which resides inside me; deep inside me where i do not let anyone see.

people expect me to "miss" my husband.  but they do not understand the depth of that loss as it plays out for me on a daily basis.  i would love some "magic tea."  {you would have to be a reader from the beginning to understand that one.}  i would love to take a walk with him around here.  i would dearly love to have his advice, thoughts on my ever-aching arm ~ la tennis elbow that i cannot get fixed.

i miss all the minute things that go in to being part of a mated pair.  i am lost out here but that intense loneliness i feel is almost like company.

i walk my dogs in the silence that surrounds my rural Sanctuary and feel the wind on my skin, through my hair, pulling on my jacket.  it feels wonderful.  the warmth of the setting sun on my face and the feel of the coolness of the rising darkness on my back make me feel small but important.  it's a communing with nature coupled with the gratefulness in my heart for where i live now that i think is healing.

i am a widow.  i have no pull for being with others, for dates, for outings.  i take myself out to supper if i wish to go and i go in the company of a book.  i do what i want without fretting anymore about friendships from anyone.  i talk to my Dragon and to myself about how i feel and know that no one; no therapist, no support group, no counselor will ever take the time to know me and my story to be there for me.  i can do this alone. 

there was a time when there were no grief therapists, no support groups, or counselors.  people grieved their own way all the time.  the first 3 years were hard and i tried to find someone, believing that i needed outside help.  being rebuffed time and again, i would return home to lick my wounds and feel bad about myself.  i would feel unworthy, unimportant.

as more time passed, now 5 years, 8 months, i have struggled for my job, this place, and my right to be who i am.  so many others, grieving ships that have passed me in the darkness leaving me on my makeshift raft, but you know?  i'm doing okay.

i have my daughter, son, and grandson.  i have two little dogs who love my unconditionally.  i am working at a job that is trying to drain my strength both physically and emotionally but i do not let it.  someone can crush a flower, grind it into the dirt, and in a little while, a tiny green shoot comes up again.  like a tiny little middle finger flipping us all off.  i love that about flowers.

i am still grieving.  i always will.  but it is not an unhealthy grief.  it is the missing of someone who cannot be replaced, who cannot be forgotten, who will never be out of my life.  i love him.  he was an awesome man.

i am grieving and lonely at times, but that loneliness keeps me company.  i know it so well.  and it knows me.  i can talk a lot to it and it listens to me.  it nods it's head understanding what i am feeling.

it lets the wind caress my hair.  it has the sun shine on my face and warm it for those last few moments before it sets.

it also keeps the cool, rising darkness at my back.  

i said it was company.  i never said we were friends.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

finding home

the word home can bring about deep feelings.
we all want a home, to feel at home, we all have ideas of what home is,
of what it looks like.
i have been blessed with the opportunity to create a home for myself.
i am unpacking as fast as my work schedule allows me to.
here is one photo.
 give me a little more time and i will post more.

but back to finding home.
i have my sanctuary now.  it will be where i go to get away from the world.
it's a quiet place IN a quiet location.
just as quietly i love this place.
when i get finished painting and unpacking, it will look like the inside of my heart.
once you see it, you will have seen me.

but home.....
truly home was with him.
in his arms.
in his eyesight.
within the warmth of his smile.
i quietly got through his birthday and our wedding anniversary.
i got through the 5.5 year mark.
i got through another full moon.

i have found my sanctuary here now.
i pray it lasts for a long time.
i need some peace and feeling of safety in my life.
i am still searching for home.
it is him.
so i guess let me say it differently.
i am waiting for home.
i am waiting for the chance to find him.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014


i am starting the move to my sanctuary.
i have pictures.
i'm painting it and making it my own.

 the walls of the stairwell will be lavender.

my street.

i'll be moving in by August 1st.

i am in love with this space, with the yard, the street,
the peace and quiet.
i will post more photos as i get moved in.

i just wanted anyone who still reads this blog to know
that i am doing this; that this is my choice.
this is part of my journey to find a place for me that is all mine.

i got the transfer to the new store.
my fingers are crossed for a gentler life.
for a quieter life.
for a less stress-filled life.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

change in the air

there are changes in the air for me.  the possibility of chances to do different, be different.
okay, not really be different but to live differently.
i went on a job interview that looks promising.
we'll see.  it's a process.

i am waiting to see if i can transfer to a different store, a store closer to me.

i am going to really try to play a bit of golf here and there.

it's something i really like to do.

and i have the opportunity to move to a different place, a cheaper place.

i'll have to do all this when the time presents itself.
nothing can be hurried.
i want to make the right decision.
i want to make a good decision for myself.
i want to live more simply and try to start saving money.
the apartment is over someone's garage.
and it would be much smaller and considerably cheaper,
and a lot more private.
i'm going to go look at it on Monday evening.
i'm excited about it.

i got to see my son again.
he is working the U.S. Open {he works for the Golf Channel}.
he got me a ticket to get in.
he got a bit of time off to show me around.
he drove us in a golf cart to some exclusive areas that he, by virtue of the Golf Channel,
could get us into.
it was very nice.
he was so proud to be able to do this for me.
i was just so happy to be with him.
i love him beyond words.
he and my daughter are my everything.

my longing for my Dragon is still there though.
it is a quieter longing.
it is a soft whisper when i am alone.
it is the sigh from my lips in a silent room.
the television is off.
the lights are low for sleep.
it is the heavy awareness that he is so far removed my where i am now.
or i am so far from where he was, where we were when he died.
and my heart breaks a little bit more.
i'm fine.  i have some chances here to make my situation a little better,
and i will be grateful and content.
but i still miss him.
i wish he were here to share in this with me.
he's gone.
he died.
and i accept that.
but i worry about him.
{not a crisis of faith, just being human}
i love him very much.
i miss him.
i miss our marriage.
i miss our friendship.
yes, still.

there is a change in the air.
i am hoping and, yes, praying, that things work out for me.
i really need them to.
but wherever i go,
whatever changes take place,
or don't take place,
i still love him and feel married to him.
i'm not looking to make any changes in that area of my life.

summer is here again, my love.
and i still love you. 

Tuesday, May 27, 2014


there is nothing to stop time and life from moving on.
certainly not grief.
life just keeps going.
bills must be paid.
chores must be done.
you just do it while you hurt.

the thing now is to find the smiles,
the tiny things that make the passing of time,
the moving away from the moment of his death,
the realization that my life is forever changed,
those things that make me okay ~ for the time being.

she could be any young mother holding her baby looking out the window.
it could be from any time period.
i took it today while i was over visiting her and my grandson.
she is my baby.  my oldest child.
all grown up.
time passed.
i turned around and she grew up.
she married.
she is now a mother.
the little girl with the long, tangled hair who
loved to wear tutus over her jeans and sang so loudly to our dog
had left me for a time as she did all the adult things of college, work, getting married.
she was as gone as if she walked into the forest to never come back.
but i see her again
as she discovers the magic of being young again.
she sings to her son.
she holds him and cuddles him.
she talks to him about ducks and flowers and ladybugs.
 she sings the songs i used to sing to her and her brother.
she carries him around and doesn't put him down for a nap,
but lets him nap on her,
as i used to do her and her brother.
she says she remembers how i was when she was little
and she wants to do the same thing for her son.
i got teary.
we hugged and she asked me to teach her the words to a song she remembers the tune to but not the words.
so i taught it to her today.
that's what she was singing when i took the photo of them.

time will pass.
the sun will rise and it will set
all without him here.
but he is here with me.
i don't feel him near as in a presence.
i simply acknowledge to my quiet life that i love him.
and always will.

i work a lot and very hard.
but when i am home, i read, sew, and do it all while sitting with my lovely, furry roommates.
this is how we roll.
comfy on the sofa.
snuggle buddies.
 but again i can see the passing of time; that cold, careless, unsympathetic torturer of relationships.

my gentle Scootie Wootums is getting older.  i can see his soft little face getting whiter.
he can't leap like he used to.
he likes to lay in the sunshine so that the warmth seeps into his bones.
 i understand that kind of pain.
i hurt deep in my back.
i hurt deep in my arms, my hands, and my knees are failing.
but i cannot stop working.
i have to provide for myself.

my sweet Carmen Sophia is getting older as well.  she and Scootie are litter mates.
they have only been separated once.
they were sold to different homes as puppies and grieved for each other.
they were returned to the breeder because they refused to eat.
once together again, they were happy.
i was called because i was on the list as a rescuer of dogs, given mostly senior dogs who were abandoned due to age.
so i took them in as puppies and have had the privilege of being in their lives all their lives.
and now, they are both older than i am.
time marches on and it's crushing me to see them get old.
i know what's coming.
so i take pictures.
i have so many pictures over our years together.
i love these dogs like i've loved no other that i have had in my life.
and i have deeply loved all my dogs.
i do not know how i will handle their passing.
but i will have to find a way.

time is not an enemy.  it simply is.
i try every day to appreciate the few who remain in my life.
i adore my Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums.
and i adore my daughter, my son, and my grandson.
time will pass and i will grow old.
but i have them.
and they make time worthwhile.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

the years not spent together

i miss him.
i don't know if other widows or widowers; others who have lost their mate, their partner, do this, but i see other couples and i feel a twinge of, not envy, but longing.
i miss him.
it doesn't happen often, but i sometimes see couples who are truly mated.  perfect partners in life.
there is an obvious bond between them and i know they are a match.
like he and i were.
and all the feelings come rushing back of what we had together and i ache with longing for him.
i want to talk to him again.
i want to hold his hand.
i want to go to the grocery store with him.
simple things.
the everyday things that make up a life with someone.

i miss the years i would have had with him.
i still love him actively.  not passively as in my life is going forward or whatever phrase people use for someone who is ready to go out and actively search for a new partner.
i cannot fathom someone else on our sofa.
i cannot fathom someone else making my tea.
i cannot fathom the touch of someone else when i can still feel his so strongly.
i am thinking that ours was a true love story.

 i am exhausted these days.
i am working very hard and not making ends meet.
gas prices are so very high and i have to drive so very far.
when i get there i am tense and stressed thinking about where my gas needle sits and when i will have to get more of this black gold.

and people who come into the store are, pardon the expression, batshit crazy.
the collection of humanity who walks through our doors are, for the most part, selfish, arrogant, self-serving, hostile, and do not hesitate to show you their bad side.
all of us who work there have our stories of being treated like non-human servants in bondage.
it truly is retail hell.
and the things i see....the way these people treat their children.  it is scary.  i don't believe they realize the impact of their words and actions on these children.

after a long day i....okay, hold that thought.  immediately upon arrival i want to turn around and go home.
i want to go back to my little apartment where my two dogs wait for me.
i want to go back to my life as a hermit.
 i had thought i was lonely and needed a friend.
what i needed was my life as a hermit.
i am not strong anymore.  and i also get so pissed and wish i could say something to someone who treats me like these customers do.
i want to stand on the counter and shout to the entire store:
"i am a human being with a past and a present and a future however small!
i have feelings just as you do!
i have wishes and hopes and i have value!
stop being so mean !!!"
but i don't.  and they continue being mean.
and i stand there and take it and wish i could go home.

making that long drive home i wish he was waiting there for me.
now that the weather is warmer, i keep the radio off and have the windows down so the rush of wind buffets my face.  i see the moon, the stars, the occasional moonlit cloud pass close to that silver disk and i sigh with want.  i love the moon.
it also makes me lonely.  when i talk to him, i will look at the moon.
when i talk to Him, to God, i also look at the moon, as if the moon represents all that i long for.
i long for my husband.  i long to know that i will go to Heaven when i die.
i want peace and quiet.  i want the stress to go away.
i want to feel safe.

but then i get home and they are waiting for me.
i could have been gone 5 minutes or 12 hours; their joy at seeing me never changes, never waivers.
i love my dogs as much as i love my children.
 they are my roommates and my friends,
my confidants and my father confessors.
 we wait together for the time when our little pack is reunited.

so you see, i'm not doing very well, i guess.
i'm the same.
the intensity of the pain is less but it is still there.
memories and longing have replaced it though and my memory is very good.
i feel it all deeply.
and i miss him.
the years we won't have together are no less not spent together.
he is here with me.
i carry him in my heart.

"i carry your heart with me {i carry it in my heart}
i am never without it {anywhere i go you go, my dear;
and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling}
i fear no fate {for you are my fate, my sweet}
i want no world {for beautiful, you are my world, my true}
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
{here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than the soul can hope or the mind can hide}
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart {i carry it in my heart}"
~ e.e. cummings

so you see?  the years we do not have together are still years together.
i love him.  i do not want anyone else.
i have my tiny family.  my children, my grandchild, my dogs.
and i have him.
i carry him in my heart.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

the long, slow goodbye

"every true story ends in death."  ~ ernest hemingway

grief is so very different for everyone.  it is also a very private affair.
it's an affair of the heart and only the person going through it knows how deep the pain goes.

he meant the world to me.  he means the world to me.

i admit i find secret comfort in widow(er)s both fictitious and real who have not moved on,
who have kept their sorrow inside and simply lived on with the memories.
there was a short-lived television show titled "10 things i hate about you."  in it the father character is aggressively, and unsuccessfully, seduced by a divorced woman.  he tells her he is not ready to date; that he is a recent widow.  the woman extends her sympathy and asks him how long it's been.
"7 years."
i loved that.  his face.  his expression.  the soft, lingering love for his dead wife.  he was still wearing his wedding ring.

or Jessica Fletcher of the television show "Murder, She Wrote."  she never dated nor married again.  she had a full life writing her novels, welcoming company to her home, and solving murders all over the globe.

and Betty White. she has been his widow for 34 years.  she's having fun with her acting and her animal charities, yet when she was on Inside the Actor's Studio and she was asked that last question, her answer was so very poignant.
"If heaven exists, what would you want God to say at the pearly gates?"
Betty said, "come on in, Betty.  here's Allen."

i've been told to never say never; that i do not know what's around the bend.
but .....
it's been 5 years and i still feel the same about him.

i will love him forever.
i think this is one of those long, slow goodbyes.

he was so much fun
and he gave me so much.
laughter and joy,
confidence and love,
and the ocean.
he took me to live beside the ocean.
we talked and shared.
we were a true meeting of the minds.
i love him.  he is so dear to me.

a long, slow goodbye.
i think of him quite a lot.
i do still dream of him.
my memories of him are so vivid.
i can hear his voice.
i can hear his laugh.
i feel this deep and abiding connection to him.
it is my most fervent hope and wish that i will be with him when i die.

a long, slow goodbye.
my memories keep me company.
and as i will one day die,
know that this is a true story.

i leave you with the words of a fictitious widow ~ Jessica Fletcher.

"i won't tell you that the hurt will disappear.
it doesn't,
but sooner or later it becomes different.
the pain subsides and the memories take over.
it isn't wonderful,
but it's better."

Saturday, February 8, 2014

five years of grief

five years

it used to burn ~ this grief that i still feel.
it used to burn me up inside.
it was as if someone had started a fire inside me to burn all that i was.
the fire ate away my insides for a long time yet it deliberately stopped short of killing me.
that was it's way of torturing me.
it never finished the job.
i continued to live.

and i got used to the heat.

then grief changed tactics.
it showed me loneliness.
it brought me back into the crowded world where no one notices me.
no one sees my pain.
no one accepts you can grieve after a year, after two and a half years,
after four years.
the world is a place where sympathy stops while the pain continues.
that is loneliness;
when your pain goes unrecognized, or unaccepted.
when you are expected to rejoin a world that fundamentally hasn't changed,
but you have.
i have.
i'm grieving.

and i got used to the loneliness.

it is now five years.
five long years.
grief is introducing me to it's next experience.
i am cold.
i feel chilled inside.
so cold i burn.
i feel detached at times, like i am a spectator to the world.
i am there but not included.
i refuse to be what i not and what i am not is this:
i am not through grieving.
i do not feel comfortable away from my tiny home.
but when i am home i still feel cold.
i can vividly recall his laugh.  i can conjure up an afternoon spent with him.
i can hear his voice in my head, my heart, deep in my soul.
time has taken nothing from my memory.
nothing has faded.
nothing has dimmed.
it is all still there.
but it is like being on the outside looking in on my own life
during that time we were together.
i remember what it felt like being with him but that is the one thing i cannot get back;
that feeling of safety, that feeling of being loved.
so i feel cold.

so i crawl on.

a mental picture of me is this:
imagine meeting a woman who is kind, funny, genuinely easy to be around.
you can tell she is a heartfelt listener and cares about others.
and you listen to her for a brief moment.
her words are soothing, make you smile, make you feel warm inside.
but there is something a bit off about her.
for all her smiles, her eyes seem sad.
even when she looks at you, you can see that her soul is split.
and her voice.
it sounds as if there is another voice speaking in chorus with her.
two voices from one soul.
that is me and my grief talking.
she and i speak simultaneously.
we are no longer separate.
we are a unit; a team.
we are entwined much like he and i were entwined while he lived.

my grief lives inside me or i live inside her.
it depends upon the day.
we color my existence together.
we share my life.
she is company.
i know her very well.
she lets me ask the hard questions and counsels with her silence.

my one and only consolation ~
the night before he died, we made love.
the night he died, i was lying in his arms in bed.
we had said, "i love you" to each other;
not with that peck on the cheek or a quick press of lips that makes a travesty of passion.
it was as it always was between us.
it was a soft, lingering kiss.
it was shared breath.
it was the silent acknowledgement that
"parting is such sweet sorrow"
even if only for sleep.

ten minutes later his body betrayed him.
it began separating his soul from me.
twenty minutes after that we were severed.

but we had that kiss.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

beauty among the ruins

there is a wonderful book by Robert Clark titled "Love Among the Ruins" about two teenagers who fall in love during 1968.  the title has stuck with me for a long time and came around to my mind again shortly after my Dragon died.

and approaching 5 years, which, if you're read the previous couple of missives here, is hitting me pretty hard.
 i love my dogs....
... and my children.....
...and my grandson.

i like sewing.  i would like to get back to painting and making stained glass.  this last quilt commission to finish; which is approaching over 550 hours of work, and i will be free of the pressure of another person's judgement. my time free time off from work will be my own for the first time in 5 years.  i look very much forward to that.

this commission has been huge.  hundreds of hours.  no more compensation for my work. after asking for so much, she now says she is "strapped for money."   i have ended up resenting this commission.  i am finishing this pro bono.  *sigh*  i do not understand as i see her photographs of her and her new husband, the things they get to do, their trips.  but maybe they get those things cheaper than they appear, or they were gifts.  i do not know and should not judge.  it is my duty to finish this quilt and i will do so.
i feel like i am living among the ruins of my life:  a tiny apartment {but it's mine}, a job that takes away a lot of my soul {but i renew it everyday with thoughts of him, my children, my grandson, taking photos of the sky, etc.}, loneliness for him i can do nothing about {i talk to him though, and i talk to God}.

there is beauty among the ruins of my life.  i brought the photo up there under my blog title over from a page from Facebook; a page called Earth Porn.  it reminds me of Van Gogh's painting, "Starry Night."  i made me smile and stare at it, and come back to it.  i think it is beautiful.  had i be fortunate to be present on that day, i would have stayed outside until dark, or the clouds passed.  

there is beauty in the world in the shape of clouds and those of us left behind.

i miss my Dragon so very much.  five years is a long time to be without him.  it's a long time to sit here and know it will be longer before i hope to see him again.  five years of life among the ruins, but there is so much beauty here that i can take in and keep in my memories.
there will be a lot of tell him about when we meet. 

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

59 months still.......

since he died, i've crossed paths with quite a few widows and widowers.  i know everyone is on their own journey, feel differently, react differently.  it has been interesting to be the wallflower; to watch everyone, hear from them, hear about them.

so many have done very well.  a great deal have found new loves and married.

very few of the first ones to write to me here are actually still reading or writing anymore.  their lives are busy and reading one widow's blog?  keeping up with her here?  just no incentive anymore.

i'm still here though.  i'm not really in the same place emotionally that i was during that first year, but, to be honest, i am not too far removed from it.

i am still in the same vicinity that i was.  i'm wandering, i guess.

i have thought about this a great deal of late.  i am not still shell-shocked.  he has died.  i have a full-time job and work very hard for my money.  i count pennies very carefully.

i am a new grandmother.  i love that baby and have wonderful ideas of what i can teach him, of just playing with him.  grief has not tainted this blessing.

i do not want to take off my rings.  i do not want to date, or meet anyone.  i do not care about finding a friend anymore.  i am very used to being alone now.  it is not something i would have chosen, but i have grown accustomed to it.  it suits me.

i think if any one of the people who used to read all the time, at the beginning, were to stop by now -- just to see -- they might be concerned, or bored, depending upon how they feel about me.

i am still in month 59 with that 5 year mark - that 60th month - staring at me, glaring at me.  and i feel apprehensive about it.  5 years is a long time.  5 years is nothing compared to.........

i think i'll go to bed and try to sleep.  sleep is a good escape from the impending agony of hitting that 5th year.  

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Enoch Arden

it's January of 2014.  that means it's been 4 years, 11 months.  59 months of living without my Dragon.  it feels like a long time.

there are days when i miss him a great deal.  there are days when i think of him and smile.
still, even on the good days, i have fleeting moments of wonder.
where is he?
is he safe and happy?
does he sort of remember me?
it's that whole mystery of death and afterlife introspective journey i take.

i have faith.  i just don't know what really comes next; what it will feel like, be like.

the days get strung together.  i live for my days off.  i get physically tired.
December was hard.  i worked 112 + hour weeks.
the overtime was nice, but getting that run down catches up to you.

i have been melancholy.
i have been evaluating my life.  am i okay?  what do i really feel?

i feel like 59 months is a long time to go without your best friend.
it's a long time to go without holding hands, talking, knowing they are waiting for you when you get off work.
it's a long time.
and it's hardly any time at all depending upon how long i have on this earth.

i'm melancholy and i can't put my finger on it.
i'm doing okay.  paying bills.  holding on.
i love my new grandson.
wish i could see him every single day.
hoping he loves me.
secretly hoping i'm his favorite gramma.  would never say that out loud.

if you met me you would say i have it all together.
i'm funny.  people gravitate to me.
i have some talent with creativity; art stuff.
but if you look into my eyes; when i look in the mirror,
i don't see the me i was when he was here.
i'm less.
i'm sadder.
it's in the eyes.
it's in the moments when i am utterly alone that a voyeur could tell.
i am definitely less than who i was before.
i bow out of things, like at my daughter's baby shower.  i had made this book for people to write things in for her, advice for the new baby.
her mother-in-law had purchased cards for that and stood in front of me to speak to it and pass them out.  i slipped back down in my seat and hid the book i made.  i was embarrassed and a bit hurt.
i had wanted to participate more in my daughter's baby shower but it became her event and i felt left out.  and i stayed out.
i bowed out and let her have it.

i'm low on everyone's list; even my own.

i am, however, very high on the list of two little hearts.
my dogs are my roomies, my cuddle-buddies.
i don't want them to die.  i know they will.
and i know i will react very badly when this happens. i already feel it inside my heart.
 my little Miss Carmen Sophia the Wild Gypsy Girl with the Sensitive Soul is showing signs of her age.  she's my little girl with such a big attitude and a willful spirit.  but she's also a momma's girl.  she loves me so much.  when i finally sit down, she is in my lap in a heartbeat.  she stretches out with a sigh as if she's thinking, "at last.  momma is home and she's mine."
 Mister Scootie Wootums Lord of the Dance with the Stardust Eyes is still a bit more lively, but even he has his moments when i can tell; i can see he no longer has a puppy heart.  he's slowing down.  to this day he goes in search of my Dragon.  he'll go to the closet and get one of my Dragon's shoes and lay with it.  nose inside the shoe sniffing.  if i equate his actions to what a human would do, it breaks me.  it looks so very much like he misses my, our Dragon.
and then there's my new grandson.  such a cutie.  i adore him.  i'm am so ready, so excited about playing with him, reading to him, singing to him, showing him things, but i am careful about what i write in public about that, and what i mentally plan for him and me.  i cannot infringe or overstep.  i dare not intrude on the plans and expectations his other gramma has.  i can't get in the way.

call me Enoch Arden.

{Enoch Arden is an old sea story.  it's the tale of a man who left his wife to go on a two year whaling trip long, long ago.  neither knew she was pregnant with their son when he left.  word came back that a terrible storm broke Enoch's vessel apart and all aboard drowned.  however, Enoch had survived.  he recovered and it took him 5- 7 years, depending upon which version of the story you read, for him to work his way back home.  when he did arrive, he found his wife had married his best friend.  he saw his son.  he also saw the three of them together standing at a memorial to him.  a man who recognized Enoch approached him saying that his "widow" honored his memory; that his son knew who he was, and that his friend was taking good care of the little family.  but he also asked Enoch why he wasn't rushing down to make his presence known.  
Enoch said, "it would destroy the happiness she has found and the security my son knows with my friend.  i cannot do that to them.  please do not tell them i was ever here."
Enoch gained a berth on a ship leaving the harbor that evening never to return.  the man held the story inside himself until Enoch's "widow" had passed and his son had grown and moved away.  then he spoke with awe and reverence of the selfless and heartbreaking decision Enoch made to sacrifice his own happiness to let his family have theirs.}

in an insignificant way, i am a bit like Enoch Arden.
i bow out.
i let others have their way.
i never speak up.
i get my feelings hurt a lot, too.

59 months without him here.
59 months without someone speaking out on my behalf when i never would.
59 months without that certain someone who always knew where i was at all times,
of him waiting for me.
59 months of being without him.

i'm melancholy.
i wish ........

see, funny thing, i don't even know what i wish for.

i'll just bow out now;
before i say too much.