730 aka 2 years

because by tomorrow, it will be too hard to write........

"i didn't hear you leave.

i wonder how am i still here.

and i don't want to move a thing.

it might change my memory.

oh, i am what i am.

i do what i want,

but i can't hide.

and i won't go.

i won't sleep.

i can't breathe

until you're resting here with me.

i don't want to call my friends

for they might wake me from this dream

and i can't leave this bed

risk forgetting all that's been......."

i still see him sometimes. it is more of a pretense than any real feeling that i have caught a glimpse of him. when i am stressed or upset, or scared, i pretend he is close by. i imagine that he is near and all i have to do is say his name.

how can it be 2 years? how have i live through 730 days and nights without him? how am i going to survive another 730, or another 365, or simply another day?

the same way i have been. if i wake up, i get up. i take care of my little dogs. i keep up with my adult children. i go to work. i come back and work here. then i go to bed. i pray for him at least twice a day. i think about the little things i need to do to keep going. i do not falter so much as just collapse sometimes from being so tired. the pneumonia this time around really took a lot out of me. i still have a little bit of a dry cough that i keep up with. when i do die, i do not want anyone to say that i did not "live," that i did not try to do things or take care of myself. i am living. i am just not living with as much enthusiasm as i did when he was with me.

i used to worry that i would die before my children became independent adults, that i would leave them with their father. now that my Dragon and i got them all grown up, and now that he has died, i do not worry so much about death except for becoming ill and lingering, costing money. i do not want to be a burden.

i have always predicted and yet, never thought that my life would end like this for me. throughout a childhood of not being loved and then through a first marriage of not being loved, i always thought i would end up alone. but then i met him and i was loved. and for the first time in my life, i was allowed to love someone ~ openly love a person.

he is so easy to love. such a warm man, so much gentleness in him. raw power, earthiness, passion, all the things that excite me. he has such an irreverent sense of humor and an intelligence that challenges me. he is handsome, adorable. his soul is a match to mine. his body is a match to mine. his mind is a match to mine. two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces that joined together to show the picture of a couple whose spirits intermingled to such a degree that it is difficult to untangle us. and yet, somehow, it happened.

what he saw in me is beyond me, especially since things have gone back to the way it was before. i have had more than a few people here treat me like i was treated before i met him. i am a "non-person" to some. to them i am apparently incapable of emotions, or they do not matter. so what he saw in me to love, to keep close to him, to cherish as he did, i cannot fathom. but i am grateful to have had it. when he was alive, i would look at him and think, "i love him so much and he loves me. me! i am with him which means i am not alone anymore. i will not die alone. he sees something in me worth loving, worth staying with."

but he died first and now i am alone with only the memories of what was and what we dreamed of for ourselves, but at least i have those memories of him to add to my ruminations. now i can add the secret knowledge that i was loved even if no one understands how or why.

one of the women i work with asked me how it feels to have finally gotten my chance at love only to watch it be taken away. she asked this sincerely, with wonder and wishing for some knowledge she seems to think i possess. she says she does not love her husband as i love my Dragon and for me to lose him after so short a time together, what do i think about it? how do i feel?

all i could think to say was that he was like a shooting star. he burned so hot and shot across my life so fast. i was in awe of him. i desired him so much. i was allowed the privilege to hang on to him for as long as i could, but his journey had to continue on to a place i cannot go. at least not yet.

she cried. i do not know if it was for me or for herself; that she does not have that connection to her husband to be able to feel that deeply about him. either way, she has a deeper understanding of me and who i am, and why i can connect to our guests in the store as i do. now they all understand how i can so quickly get someone to impart their life story while i stuff a bear or tiger, or bunny; then create a "Heart Ceremony" specifically for their life.

i do not know what is to become of me. i am meekly surviving. i am being creative. i get to make quilts and embroider things like jeans for little girls and Bunnies. i get to think of him and dream of him. i get to remember him and all the things he did for me, gave me, helped me become. he was trying to set me free from all the demons of my past. he wanted me to be able to fly.

i cannot fly, but i can drive now. it means freedom for me. i have named my car Midnight. it is black so that makes it easy. also that is about the time he died, well, 3 minutes after. midnight came and my life changed forever. during the nighttime, when my nightmares slither and snarl close to the surface, he had to leave me. on the night of a full moon, he was called away.

but when i dream of him, he is always in the light. he is always out walking with me, holding my hand, laughing with me, teasing me, smiling at me.

i was loved. only someone who has been treated as i have been all my life can understand the significance of those 3 words. I Was Loved. he held me. he smiled at me. he kissed me. he wrapped his arms around me and loved me.

oh, please, help me. i love him. i miss him. this is a heartbreak that either will not let go of me or i cannot let go of. he is the only one for me. it is not that i cannot love again. it is that i do not want to. no one can compare to this man, this Dragon with the giant spirit that lived inside him and is now freed from his body, and from me. how i can risk being fooled by another Voldemort? over half a century of abuse from people i trusted, people who were supposed to love me, or promised they did. broken promises. out right lies. such betrayal. and then to find my Dragon. to be given such a short time with joy. so little time with any real peace and security. not enough time to explore the love we shared and still do.

i sometimes feel like i am breaking apart. little pieces are falling off me and drifting away on an unfeeling wind, like the ash that is all i have left of him. i was burned up with him in the crematorium. the terrible thing is i still need him. i always needed him more than i thought he needed me though he loved to debate me about that. i never wanted to know a moment of time without him and yet, here i stand staring at the number 2 on my metaphorical cake. or 730. and i am staring down the barrel of however many more years i have been blessed with/cursed to have to live without him. and i still need him. do you hear me? whoever is listening up there/out there; i still need him. i still love him. i still want him. does this make you cry as much as it does me?

he is so handsome. he is so strong. he is so necessary to my happiness, to my mind, to my body, to my heart. thank God i gave him my heart to take with him. it feels right to have no heart anymore. i still do have my spirit and that is what i use to warm myself, my daughter and son, my little dogs, anyone who needs my words or my way with a needle and thread. i call upon my paltry, little spirit. but i really wish he were here with me.

i do not feel like i am where i belong. i am driving now but the whole world is different. i feel out-of-place. i am not driving to meet him. i am not going anywhere that he is. i wish i could wake up from this dream but then i see that i am already awake and then i am wishing i were dreaming so i can be with him.

he is my peace of mind therefore i am not at peace.

i have seen other widows' photos and writings of the memorials they have given their husbands. plaques and benches and large rock gardens. they are all so beautiful. there are photos of a great many friends and other family members who gather to commemorate a wonderful life. they console each other and share stories. i wish i could do that for my Dragon. i wish i could gather people beside the ocean and build a standing stone garden; balance rocks on top of each other into sentinels by the water's edge and then have one large one with his name carved into it. my Dragon, carved in stone for all time.

i wish i could tell you the stories that made up his life. i wish i could tell you what he did when he was away on a mission. he lived a life in the shadows but always dreamed of the light. he wanted absolution for the "sins", he called them, that were committed in the name of God and country and patriotism. he did dangerous work for very low pay and always knew no one could ever know. he knew his life's work would forever remain a secret, but he did tell me some things. he was careful. he chose his words so that even i do not know everything, but i know what spending that time in the darkness cost him. i know he had his moments when he dreamed that his sacrifices would be allowed to be known, that he would get credit for what he did. and when the job ended, when he came back from his last mission and the bullets stopped flying, he told me that at least i knew him. he said, "you know what i did and why i did it. you know what it cost me. that's more than i ever thought i'd get. i love you for taking on the burden of my life. i love you. i feel safe with you."

so i cannot ever tell you what he did. i cannot have a big memorial service for him. the few men he did know and trusted are either dead or retired to other places and must remain anonymous. no one would come. they would simply honor him by raising a drink, not to the sun, but to the darkness where they spent so much of their time. if i managed to get anyone else to come, i could only stand there and say, "he is my Dragon. he is a great man. and i miss him." such a short testimonial for a life i knew to be legendary. and my own stories of him? you never met him. it would simply be a story about a man you never knew.

and now, with Brick's death, i no longer have his stories about their times together. my friend has died; honorably, heroically, but still, he has been taken away from this world and it has wounded me. i never met the man. we talked on the phone. he had a sixth sense about calling me. "i just read your blog" or "you sound down on Facebook, talk to me. what's going on?" then he would say, "want to hear a story?" he was kind. he honored my Dragon by checking up on me, never being flirty, always respectful. he maintained the boundary of "widow of my brother." he was my friend and i am better for having gotten to know him as i had, and the world is less for his death. he was killed in a fire fight with Somali pirates and i was told his death was instantaneous. a blessing. like my Dragon, Brick was not the kind of man to probably do well lingering. i pray he closed his eyes for the last time here and opened them with my Dragon reaching out a hand to him.

730 days and nights without my Dragon. i honestly do not know how i am doing it. how am i breathing? how am i laughing? having Bunny as my alter ego and taking her photograph amuses me. making bunnies and bears and tigers at work helps. sewing quilts for others helps a great deal. i can do something unique that i have really not seen very many other places. i have a little bit of a purpose.

730 days and nights.

i cling to two things, two signs that i do not know if they are signs from him or i simply want them to be. one was a radio that never played, that was not even plugged in, popping on at 12:03 AM exactly 24 hours after my Dragon died. it was playing the chorus from Sarah McLachlin's "Angel." "in the arms of the angel far away from here......" at first it terrified my children and i. it broke me down. it was the first time since i was told they could not save him, that he had died, that i sobbed uncontrollably. now i do not know if i should look to it for comfort. i do not know what to do about it, and yet, i cling to it because it was so mysterious.

the other sign was when my daughter and i were driving the U-Haul across the state line into the state i now live in. i was teary. i was saying, "he won't know where i am." my daughter was trying to comfort me saying, "mom, if anyone can find you, it's {Dragon}. he loves you. he'll find you." we were quiet for a moment and then she gasped. she pointed to the sky and there was a heart cloud. a perfect heart cloud floating over the mountains. she said, "see, i told you he knows where you are. you haven't lost him. he's with you. he'll be with you always."

have i mentioned that i was his shadow and he was mine?

i can no more imagine my life without him here beside me than you can conceive of a quiet little girl absolutely terrified of her mother, yet both those things have happened. both those things are true.

i hurt so much some times i pretend he is simply away on a mission and will come back to me soon. it is a bold faced lie that i tell myself to try and quiet my aching soul, much like a child telling herself after a severe punishment, "mommy loves me." i absolutely will myself to believe it. it helps that i believe i will see him again. one of the perks of having my car, Midnight, now is that i can return to Church. i can go every Sunday and, as some people have told me, "fill my head with that useless drivel that there is a God and He cares about you." there is one person in particular i would like to ask this of: how can you be so very angry at someone you do not believe is real?

730 days and nights without him and only more of the same to look forward to. but i live. i try to live well. i have recently made someone else angry with me by not being someone they wanted me to be or not being able to do something they wanted me to do. i do not know exactly what i have done wrong this time, but Christmas through Valentine's is a very bad time for me and i cannot, i no longer have the strength or energy to knock myself out anymore. i need to try to keep myself healthy so i can keep working both jobs. i need to make ends meet. i need to survive.

i still love him. i am still so very much in love with him. nothing has lessened those feelings. nothing has changed. i do see him, faults and all, and i love him. he is most definitely on a pedestal, but if you knew what i knew; if you had seen the artwork of scars on his body and watched me nurse him when he came back to me all shot up, you would not begrudge me my hero worship of him. he is my Dragon and i adore him.

this face. how can i go through another day not being able to walk over to him and kiss him?

my dearest Dragon, my heart, i think i will always remember you outdoors; the wind blowing, the gulls crying overhead, the sounds of the waves against the rock, and the awe in your face as you looked out at the majesty of the sanctuary that God has created by the ocean's edge. i will die loving you.

lost soul

i feel like a lost soul these days. because of circumstances, i exist in a very limited way and space that makes me feel like a wraith in my own life. i wake. i work. i sleep. i do not go out. i am taken to the grocery store, for work supplies, and the used bookstore. then back. mondays allows me 3 – 4 hours out and away. clerks see me because they are the ones who finish the transaction i initiate by bringing what i would like to purchase to their counter.

i am lonely. would i like a woman friend, a peer to talk to about woman things? yes. it is hard here. i think the drawback of befriending me might be my lower financial situation, my lack of having a car which makes my company a burden, and my having come into already established lives that are flush with friends and extended families. i can only bring me to a friendship and so far i see that i am not enough.

my phone has rung twice since before Christmas that it was not my son or daughter. there are not many from anyone i have met here who check to see if i am okay and i have stopped calling. it feels too much like i am begging. it breaks my self-esteem. i did it for the first 11 months after i met a few widows but i was continually put off due to their busy lives. it lead to few of my calls being returned to none. like the song says, “I can’t make your heart feel something it won’t.”

i did get one “curiosity” call about my issues with the dentist. i said “hello” and the woman immediately advised me on what i should be doing, explaining that i was a fool to go back. she closed with, “See, you get phone calls. I just called.” the dial tone prevented even my chance to say “thank you,” and “goodbye.”

i do have a constant friend, that’s what i call him, my constant friend. he is my pen pal if one can be called such a thing when communicating solely on the computer. he is my husband’s Marine “brother.” i want him to know i am most grateful to him. one, he tells me stories about my Dragon which adds to the painting i had started in my head. two, he talks to me and has yet to find fault with me.

the stories. i seriously wish my husband’s friend had come for a visit. i would have plied them with alcohol and then taped them reminiscing about all their “adventures.” i would have been allowed such a legacy in that tape. two men whose lives were spent serving their country in places like Vietnam, Angola, Beirut, and Afghanistan, dancing on the tip of the iceberg. they have so many stories, both separately and together. some are wildly funny. some are just wild. listening when my Dragon told me things, i was always studying his body language to make sure he was okay during the telling. listening to my constant friend, i can continue my visions and empathy of what my Dragon and he went through. i can sense the fear they sometimes dealt with as well as the adrenalin rush. i can close my eyes in wonder at what these men were asked to do. most of all, i am continuing to learn what my Dragon and my constant friend live with.

i miss my Dragon. as each day passes, each week, i miss him more and more and yet, oddly, i am becoming more accustomed to feeling this way. it is not any easier. i am doing what has to be done to continue. I am adapting.

i am lonely for him. i miss the thrill i got when he smiled at me. i miss flirting with him. i miss his presence. i miss his words, his brooding, his nightmares, his laughter, and his breathing next to me in bed. i miss his warmth and his love. i miss his legs, arms, hands, mouth, and his eyes looking at me.

i wish he had not died. i sometimes want to go back to where we lived so much that it breaks me. i wonder if i could find peace back there. it was more a small village than a town. people knew us, they knew me and liked me. it was okay to be exactly the person i am. like my Dragon, they saw me, listened if i spoke, and liked what i made. i wonder if i had had the wherewithal to stay, if my grief would have been more poignant and less stressful as i settled in to wait to be with him rather than being here with this lonely gut-wrenching pain and not having anyone to talk about him with. the pull to go back to the cove is so strong inside me but is also one that, even with all the money in the world, would be impossible to fulfill. i cannot explain. the pain is so great that taking the time to explain would send me to bed. accept that it is beyond my reach. to quote another song, “you can spend your whole life working for something just to have it taken away.”

it was all taken away. it is for everyone who loses their spouse. i am not worse off than anyone else. i am simply trying to find a way to be heard. i am saying it was the same for me. here is the only place where i may try to express what i am feeling with any hope that someone will hear me.

when my Dragon died, i did not ask for any of my love to come back to me. i do not want it back. it belongs to him. i gave it all to him a long time ago. but i also lost my place in this life. i lost people seeing me, realizing i hurt as well. i lost our location. i lost our cove, our small slice of the ocean, our island, and all our dreams.

i lost the love of my life, the one i am meant to be with. it was sudden and he went quick. i did not get any last words. i wish i had. just to hear his voice again. once more.

sometimes, when i first wake up, or in the early afternoon with there are still hours and hours of living still yet to face in the day; i can get tricked into believing he is not really gone from me for the rest of my life. for a second i sometimes think that he should be back from his errand. but then i look out the window, not at the ocean, but at asphalt, and i remember.

Dragon turned loose

Dragon is fourth from the left? the breadth of his shoulders and back look right. he told me of one time when you had a war photographer with you, but he never had any of the photos.

i miss him telling me his stories. i pray he felt good about himself before he died. i pray for him every day. i talk to him every day. a lot. i wish he were still here. i miss him so very much. it almost seems wrong that the world, that life can go on without him.

there should not be a world without a dragon in it.

thank you for calling and getting a copy of the photo. thank you for sending it to me.

Valentine's Day ~ Dragon's Funeral One Year Ago

i got the quilt in the frame tonight. i'm working hard i think to bury what day tomorrow is. Valentine's Day.

it had always been a day we spent together honoring our love and our marriage. we did it right. cheap and intimate at home. being me, i made him books. i wrote stories with illustrations inside. i spent a lot of time on them. i loved doing it for him and he always loved getting them.

he told me that he'd never had anyone love him as i do. and i do. i love him. that his funeral was planned on Feb. 14th, what that day meant, never occurred to me. maybe it was fate. for my last Valentine book that i made for him, i'd researched the origin of the day, of the Saint. i read Dan's blog earlier tonight and he mentioned St. Valentine. for my first Valentine's Day alone, i mean the one that isn't his funeral since i was never technically alone, i think i want to relate what i gave to my Dragon two years ago, our last Valentine's Day together.
"Valentine's Day has it's origins in blood, violence, persecution, and sacrifice, all the things that make love so infinite and worthwhile. Valentine's Day has evolved into something that is a mere shadow of the power it once held. except for us. you and me."

i use several pages to explain all about why i love him, admire him, and am in awe of him. i give him the words to make him smile, blush, and shake his head at my adoration. he is so funny when he thinks my writing enters hyperbole.

at the end of this book i wrote and made for him, i tell him why Valentine's Day is so special.

"you, my love, are a warrior and you above all should not be in the dark about Valentine's Day. the priest Valentius secretly married soldiers because he felt Claudius's edict that no soldier should marry was wrong. if anyone should have a blessed eternal, sacred love, it should be a soldier. thrown in prison and awaiting execution, he had hope enough to fall in love with his jailer's daughter and he sent her love letters signed 'from your Valentine.' he was executed on February 14, 270 AD.

Valentius died for love while loving someone. he was a warrior as well, albeit on a different battlefield. we celebrate this day as we do every day. for you and me, for all of us, a priest risked his life for the warriors of his parish and they risked all seeking him out for the sacrament of marriage, for love. love is never a waste. you and i share a love that is a sacrament, that is a bond for all eternity.

never wonder how or why i love you. never wonder why i am here for you. no one deserves love more than you and no one can possibly love you more than me. no one will quietly hold you in the night, stroke your hair, your arm, or speak in low, soothing tones to you like i do and always will. i'll face down your demons and banish them all from your mind.

i am the person your soul talks to in the night. i will always be there....

because i love you."

my Dragon is my life and i was his. we had talked once about what to do if one of us died. we had also talked about how we thought it would feel, how we’d “be” when the other had died. he and i both spoke of it as if we were the same coin and one side had been obliterated. damaged. we spoke of it as if we were Gibran’s “lute quivering with the same music.” yes, we were two individuals but our lives, our dreams had evolved to become one instrument, Gibran's lute. i know if a string breaks on an instrument, the musician simply replaces the string but in a marriage such as ours, the string cannot be replaced. they don't make them to fit the instrument that is us, the Dragon and his woman from the shadows.my Dragon is a Marine, Force Recon. he fought hard for his country and his will to survive was very strong. there were a myriad of reasons he earned his nickname. his inner strength to live and get his men back home was one of them. "Dragon" was an honorable name to be given. his stories are wild and simply incredible to me. he told me once, though, that nothing he did or endured during his years was as bad as the mere thought of having to live without me.

"if you died, i would continue. that's all. i would just continue like a wolf that had lost it's mate. i would lose the sun and the moon and the ocean. i would lose my joy of watching you live. i would just continue and wait to be able to join you."

i feel the same. i have no idea if this Valentine's Day culmination of my first year without him has me so deep in melancholia that i am wallowing, but i will ride this ride to the end. i will feel fully what my heart and my mind give me to experience. i will fully live this grief until it evolves. then i will experience that.

as Jimmy Bufftet sings, "some of it's magic and some of it's tragic but i've had a good life all the way."

i had a good life starting when i met my Dragon. i had a wonderful life with him. and i will have a life as his widow albeit a sadder, lonelier one. i will hold my memories of him and keep his stories safe in my heart. maybe next year i will be able to hold a special celebration for him.

my warrior. my Dragon. my beloved husband. "my immortal beloved." you are worth all this pain. i love you. i always will.

my birthday thoughts

if you are reading my words and are among us who mourn your spouse/fiancee, there is nothing i can tell you that you do not already know.

if you are here reading and have never known such a tragedy, there is nothing i can tell you either for there is no way to prepare.

my birthday is Saturday, the 16th, the first since my Dragon's death. i feel a wave of depression coming on that i do not know how i will handle, but probably i will not say anything. i mean what's the point. most of you reading here understand. so i will do something different, something to argue with the cold that lives inside me. i want you to meet my Dragon.

i know. you've read about him, BUT, you haven't been introduced to him. you only know him as my hero. let me introduce you to the man.

he hated having his picture taken. he was wanted in several countries for patriotic actions against said country and having his picture taken went against the grain. he never got a tattoo for the same reason though he let me paint a dragon on him once. that was a fun night.

he was my height which made kissing him and dancing with him in the sand perfect. he had big shoulders and thick muscles. his back even had muscles. his legs were tree trunks but speaking as an artist, he was perfectly proportioned.

i could wear his shoes but he could not wear mine.

he loved black coffee but being a Marine that kind of goes without saying. Rule #23. Never mess with a Marine's coffee if you want to live.

his favorite color was brown until i showed him the color of the ocean before a fast moving squall when the sun was still out. "turbulent sea foam turquoise-y green." (i reserve all rights and privileges to the use of that color name though i don't think Crayola will ever be upset or make a crayola long enough to stamp it on the sleeve.)

i was the only one who could tell him to do something and forget to say please and thank you but i never forgot and he appreciated that. he never "told" me to do anything. he asked sweetly and we did it together.

he wasn't afraid of anything and i had to be careful not to dare him to do anything i didn't want to see him do. he'd do anything.

he never thought it was odd that my relaxation reading was theoretical physics.

he could figure a way out of anything and contrary to popular myths about dragons and Marines, his first thoughts didn't involve violence. but he knew how to do that if it meant saving his men, his country, or his family.

he wasn't afraid of the dark or heights. for training once, they had him do a HALO dive after midnight landing on the deck of a darkened ship in the middle of the ocean. i asked him if he was scared and he said no. he said he'd been more scared of me saying no to his marriage proposal than anything else he'd ever done.

he knew a lot about survival. he hated that guy Bear Grylls but respected Les Stroud, as long as his show didn't look faked.

he'd been in every country in the world except for eleven. i'd point out a country on the map and ask, "what did you do here?" once he said, "i walked through that one to get to this one." i smiled and teased, "did anyone see you?" he smiled and said, "no, because that would have been bad." he meant it. you always knew when he was serious, even if he was smiling.

he loved the Marine Corps. he loved his country. Semper Fi.
he was the leader of his fire team. they got little ceramic skunks because they were always stuck with the "stinky" jobs.

he told me that he and his mom never admitted to each other that he'd been in Vietnam for even one tour much less three. she referred to it as that "time you were off with the Marines." her letters were addressed to California so he let her pretend he lived on base there.

he'd eat anything, cooked or raw. if it crawled, walked, swam, or flew, he had a recipe for it. he'd eat a lot of things raw, too. he said that when he was away from home, he usually wasn't in the tourist part of the country so he would find something to eat and keep it down. protein was protein. but he didn't mind that i was a picky eater. he called it an "endearing quirk." and he'd eat the sides i didn't like.

he didn't kill spiders or mice, etc. he'd catch them and set them free outside, and yes, he sometimes could catch a fly in the air. he never killed those either.

he loved old houses, history, the ocean, and John Wayne movies. so did i.

he loved going to bed early and not going directly to sleep. so did i.

when he found out that i collected rocks and shells and sand dollars, he started collecting them, too. he picked up every rock he ever found.

the day of his funeral, after it, when it was time for my daughter and i to drive away from my ocean forever, i took all my rocks and shells and sand dollars to our beach. it was Valentine's Day. it was my gift back to our beach since i don't think i will ever see it again. i set all my collected treasures free.

i kept his shells and sand dollars and rocks though. i put his bigger sand dollars in my grandfather's cufflink box. i covered some of his rocks to "protect" his fingerprints which i fully believe with all my heart are still on his rocks.

he finally grew to accept that i adored the ground he walked on. i never thought he was a monster. his ex-wife learned what he did and screamed at him. she called him a murderer. that's why she divorced him. he was a terrible, evil person as far as she was concerned. he'd been divorced for 12 years when we met. i thought he was a patriot. i thought his eyes looked closed off. i wanted to make his eyes smile so i made it my sole purpose in life to let him know that his ex-wife was just a person, one person, and that she was wrong.

i told him i loved him every day, several times a day because i thought he was just so cool. he always blushed.
when he got a call, picked up his go bag to leave, i never cried. i kissed him and told him to be careful. he said he was proud of me for not crying in front of him but he knew i was scared for him and cried while he was gone. when he would come home, it would take me two weeks to stop smiling. i held his hand all the time. i would sit in his lap, on the floor at his feet asking his questions, letting him talk it out, or i would sit scrunched up against his side. he loved that i would do that.

the day my ex-husband met my Dragon, he had dropped my son off from taking him out to supper. my ex was upset about something and called me out to the driveway. to make his point he grabbed my hand and bent it back in a way that physiology and nature did not intend it to go. it was just what he did and i never showed emotion or he'd get too excited. if i waited him out, he would stop and let go. but my Dragon didn't think i needed to wait like that. my Dragon came out and said in a voice that was low and soft and devoid of emotion, "release her." when my ex did, my Dragon slapped my ex with an open hand. the crack was very loud. louder than they ever show on television when someone does that. my ex fell on top of the hood of his car. my Dragon leaned over him and said, "if you ever touch her or her children again, i will come into your home and wake you up. mine will be the last face you see. i know how to do it. it's what they trained me for and i have to tell you that for you, my moral compass would bend way back, as far back as you had her hand. that means that for you, i would enjoy it."

my ex has never touched me or either of my children. i still ask though since my son has elected himself as the ambassador to keep the peace. he still goes to see his father but only, as he says, "you keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

i never saw my Dragon threaten anyone before that or after that. it was a side he didn't let me see. he was upset that i saw it that time, but i told him, "i know you only use your powers for good." he hugged me. it was a turning point for us. he believed i was in his life to release him of his demons. he said, "because you love me, i'll find absolution." i cried behind his back because it hurt me so much that he felt that way about himself.

he thought it was funny that i don't care for diamonds. but he wanted me to have one so he found the ring you see below. the diamond is very tiny. it's called a "pinpoint of light." it made him think of a star in the sky. it's my engagement ring. the other band is my wedding ring. it has "love always" engraved in it. i've taken the set off twice since he gave them to me. the first time was when i sat beside his body in the hospital after they told me he was dead. i took the ring off and turned the heart that he had facing out towards him, back towards me. my heart is his. it is not for anyone to feel is open to them in any way but a quiet friendship.

the second time i took my rings off was for this photo. so you could see how well he knew me and accepted my jewelry quirks. i put my rings back on before i uploaded the photo.
he taught me all i know about love.

he isn't here for my birthday. he died. i believe the world is a darker, colder, and less safe place because of that. i'm sure there is someone out there who has taken his place in the seedy, not tourist parts of the world, where things need to be done, but i think my Dragon was the best and most honorable. but that's me.

i miss him. terribly. and now with my birthday coming i feel a darkness rising up, threatening to make me hurt hard again. so i wanted to introduce you to the man i know. now i don't have to think too hard. i can come back here and read on Saturday when i need a fortress against the pain.

thank you for sticking with me. btw, i love him.

Christmas

i am feeling better. i still have my cough. it doesn't want to leave yet. it adores my lungs with a depth of feeling that annoys the hell out of me. c'est la vie. my lungs are just weak little balloons of wimpy-ness. but i'm more up and about, working on my dragon handkerchiefs and the first quilt for Suddenwidow. and i wanted to tell you all. we had Christmas.

my children and i did Christmas at Thanksgiving. it's all about the ex and i cannot speak to it here anymore nor can i explain. suffice to say, my son has been claimed, again, for Christmas. i was hoping for a stay of exclusion with it being my first Christmas without my Dragon but no. i'm resigned to it. i will have my daughter here. i won't get to see her Christmas Eve, and she has to go to her in-laws Christmas morning, but then she and her husband will come back to me. i think her father-in-law is coming, too. but nothing more to say on that subject. it's carved in stone.

so, back to the Christmas we had.

it was very nice. my son gave his sister his old reformatted laptop with an extra hard drive. she was so happy. i gave my son prints of some of my photographs in dollar store frames. i'm giving my daughter an eye exam. my daughter gave us her smile and her love.

they gave me a bunny rabbit with a scarf around his neck that has my Dragon's initials monogrammed on it.

he's from a catalog called Soft Surroundings. he can be put in the microwave and heated. he has herbs in his long bunny belly that smell heavenly. isn't his face cute?
my Dragon had a nickname that his parents called him. "Rabbit." he wasn't called the Dragon until the Marine Corps and it has something to do with all that power and might stuff that the Marines are known for. i called him my Dragon for his honor and integrity and his ability to destroy anything that might hurt me with one breath. but before he became the Dragon, he was Rabbit. it always made him think of his parents. it made him think of when he was a boy and innocent of things like power and might and Vietnam and war and dark alleys in Europe with their own nicknames like "Murderers Row."

so my almost flawlessly perfect children remembered the name Rabbit and found this one. he smells nice and heats the muscles in my neck and shoulders. he has my Dragon's initials on his scarf and i already love him.

i've been so grim with feeling so poorly and the lingering cough that, if you can tell, still frightens me a bit. i wanted to post something uplifting.

we had Christmas together, my children and i. we had a good, quiet time. and Rabbit/Dragon was there.

buddies

i made the big gray dog on the left from a pair of socks from one of the widow's in the group.

the little red dog on the right I made from my husband's old cheap dollar store gloves.

both have buttons from the respective men's clothes.

my little dog has part of the broken strap from my Dragon's bivy bag from the Marine Corps. and one of his Purple Heart ribbons.

they are my trial runs.

big gray dog has gone to his home but for a short while, they sat together and shared stories. they were buddies.

letter to my husband

my dear, sweet dearest, my husband,

i miss you. tomorrow it will be six long, weary months since you died so suddenly, so frighteningly sudden, and i don't know what kind of shape i'll be in. i know i'm going to hide from the world. but i don't know how i'll tackle each hour that ticks by. will i be able to sew? will i be able to work on anything? what will i do all day long alone with just my thoughts and memories of you?

if i could send this letter to you i would first want you to know that i love you still, always will. i think of you every minute. that sounds obsessive but it's not really. i think of you the way i always thought of you, even when we were in the same room together. my life is linked to yours. my heart, my soul, my thoughts were of us as a couple and that way of thinking hasn't stopped simply because your heart did. you were always such a presence. larger than life. people noticed you wherever we went and either gravitated to your smile and gregarious nature or got out of your way if your eyes told them to. you were like my very own guard dog. i loved that feeling of safety. i had never had it, not even as a child. so first, let me say that i love you and i will not stop. no one can step in my field of view and dim even the memory of you. no one will capture my soul as you did.

the second thing i'd want you to read would be a lie. i know. lying is wrong, but this kind of lie is not. it is a lie to protect you. i'd lie and say i'm doing okay. i am in a way but in other ways i am not. i need you. i am back in the abyss with you know who. money. our girl's wedding. just surviving. he's out there in the darkness. i can hear him. he's laughing. i'm alone and so very tired. and i can't stop to rest or dedicate myself to grieving fully and wholly so i can get past it. i have to walk this minefield so my brain is split. grieve. where am i compared to where he is. grieve. wait. he moved. what do i do now? step this way, avoid the hidden mine. grieve. miss you. cry. damn. he did something else. stop and think. work. work. worry. grieve. so the second thing i would tell you is that i'm doing okay. i'm going to keep breathing, keep living after a fashion, and i won't let anyone get behind me. i'll keep my back to the wall like you taught me. thank you for that. thank you for all you taught me. thank you for your strength and belief in me. so, i'm doing okay.

third, i don't know. is there a third thing? i've found a way to earn money for myself. i make quilts now like i did for us. i take in clothing and make Memory Quilts. i think it helps people. i see something indescribable in their faces when they see their finished quilt for the first time. i think maybe it's going to be one of those things that they will cherish and fully get the emotional impact of much later, when i am far out of the picture. when they are alone with their quilts in the night and can touch them and wrap them around themselves.

i'm working on one for me. it's taken me longer than it should because i work on everyone else's first, then all the things i'm making for our girl's wedding, and then if i'm not too tired, i work on mine. after the wedding, i'll be able to really work on mine parallel to the others.

i guess that's all i can think of for a six month milestone like this. six months. i can't imagine it. your birthday is coming up, too, and 5 days after that our wedding anniversary. since you won't be actually reading this letter, i'll just say i don't think i'm going to make it. well, i'll make it because i have to, but i intend to wallow. i'm going to sulk and cry and curl in a ball and hug my Marine Dress Blues teddy bear that i put two of the mini medals you had on. i'll look at your picture and dream of your smile, your laugh, your warmth, and your love. i'm going to miss you so much that i know i'll think my heart will shatter - again. it's already so fragile with the burden of this grief and dealing with the wedding politics.

what is it about weddings that bring out the worst in people? the day belongs to the bride and groom. whatever they want is what should be. her veil. her ring pillow. her aisle runner. she's asked me to make it all and i am. she asked me to draw her wedding cake for the baker and i did, exactly to her dreams. i'm being tactful. i'm being quiet like i always am. but i'm making sure she gets what she wants and that no one gets upset with her. they can get upset with me.

since i'm such an unknown here, i can get away with just doing things silently and not explaining myself. but they did see all the things i'm making and they love my handwork, all the colors. i think people get nervous when someone says "handmade." they prefer machines to do things for them and have forgotten that sometimes handmade can be just as pretty and maybe even more special. you always loved my quilts, and my embroidery on your jeans. you didn't feel emasculated. you were always proud to say, "my wife patched my jeans."

so i guess this is really all i can say. i hate to stop this letter. i really feel like i'm talking to you. as if we're on one of those instant message venues, only i'm doing all the talking. you're not winking at me. ;o) no flirting. nothing. but i know you would if you could.

i know you'd talk to me if you could. i know you'd reassure me if you were able. i know that if you could swing it with God, you'd once again be here beside me. in fact, i wouldn't be on the computer. i'd be sewing a quilt for us. or sitting beside you on the sofa with your arm around my shoulders.

i love you, husband. i always will. i will endure, but i know i will not "get over" the loss of you. you are too much my soul mate. you are too much my heart's desire. your empty space is far too empty.

i love you with all my heart.

good night, for now.

~ your wife

Gratitude to you and photos of the new stuff

First, I want to say here, publicly, how much I appreciate what Ann, Supa Dupa, and Widow in the Middle wrote to me on my last blog, Writing in the Sand. I was feeling more melancholy than actually horrible, but in writing it, I have to be honest in saying that I sort of stayed off the computer out of trepidation that no one had gotten on, or they wouldn't leave a comment. There seems to be so many grieving, so many sites that can be read. Mine is just another voice out there in the fog of those of us trying to find our way.

I write to get all the pain out. I write to talk about him and what he was and what he did for me, how great he was, and how very much we loved each other. There's no one else for me to really talk to, to monopolize the conversation and have it be all about him so I write.

But I do other things, too. The first photo you saw was the new Memory Quilt I'm still piecing together. It's for a little boy who is now 7 years old. His dad died 2 1/2 years ago. The big gray Henley is the shirt his dad wore the last time they took a photo of him and his dad together, I think the weekend before he died. I think about you guys and your stories when I make the quilts. This time I thought about this little boy's dad and how they would have been together. So I sewed the shirt as a whole. I am leaving the sleeves open and the bottom hem open so that as the little boy grows, he can slip into the shirt, wear it in a way, to see how big he's getting compared to the size his father was.

As soon as it's off the wall and in the frame, I'll be piecing together chillinwithlemonade's final quilt. And I'll have her in my thoughts, her relationship with her husband, and I'll try to make her something that I would want to be handed to me. Always you and your stories do I keep in my heart when I sew the quilts.

The second and third photos are the ring pillow for my daughter's wedding. I know. It's not white satin. She's not like that. She has a beautiful white satin and lace dress but she's also had me take off the white ribbon and bow around the waist and replace it with a purple one, and put an antique dragonfly pin in the middle of the bow.

My daughter is my wild gypsy girl, a true bohemian in how she perceives things visually. She loves earth colors, dragonflies, fairies, and butterflies. Her friend's 4 year-old daughter is the flower girl and she'll be handing out clothespin butterflies that have the happy couple's names and wedding date on the clothespin. We are getting together next week to sit and make them together. And while her flower girl is handing out butterflies, she'll be wearing tulle gypsy moth wings.

The last photo is the burlap aisle runner I'm embroidering. It will have flowers all over it. 8 feet of flowers. lol. 8 long feet of flowers, bees, dragonflies, their names, their wedding date, and more flowers. One type of flower is the daisy, for my husband, who sang that song I wrote about a few weeks ago, "A Daisy a Day."

In his honor the first chair, front row, will have standing in it a Teddy Bear wearing his Marine Corps dress blues with my husband's medals pinned to him. he has so many so we're picking the top four. My husband had a long career serving his country and my son and daughter and I are so proud of him. We wish he were here to walk her down the aisle but her brother will do that and the Teddy Bear in his dress blues with medals will have a place of honor. I'll post a picture of him from the wedding photos after her wedding in September.

I just want to say thank you for writing comments to me, for thinking of me, and most of all, for remembering me. I think of all of you I've gotten to 'know' and read. You all mean something to me, a very bittersweet and good something to me.

Peace to us all.