six years, eight months

i am no longer new to grief.  there is no way anyone would give me the consideration of the grieving widow.  it has been too long.
and yet.
i am, in my way, very quietly grieving, still.

i have found my footing.  i work.  i support myself.  i have even fought for myself in abstract ways; in the "hey, i am standing here" kind of way.

i have not "moved on" as it is called.  i am not seeking companionship.  i do not want to date.  i have not taken off my wedding rings.

but i do feel stronger in my loneliness.  it doesn't bother me anymore to be so alone so much of the time.

today, my boss was looking at what we have left of our vacation time.  i spent 4 days of my two week vacation time allotted with my son and it was wonderful.  i do have time left. 

"are you going anywhere else?"

i had to laugh.  where am i going to go?  i do not have friends.  i do not any money to travel anywhere even if it were by myself.  i told her, "put me in for where i can have a day here and there off."

and i will just stay at home.  i will sew.  i will walk my dogs and take photos of the world close by my Sanctuary.  i will read and take naps and paint.  i will dream and plan for things i will never do or go to or see.

but i live a very wonderful, inspiring, decadent life inside my imagination.

and i am content.  i am relatively safe.  i am paying down a small debt.  i am taking care of myself.

and i think of him.  my Dragon.  i love him.  i miss him.  i'd love to hear his voice.  i'd love to talk to him.  i'd love to spend another day with him.

but i want him to be happy wherever he is.  i don't want him looking back, so i don't address him directly.  i talk to God.  i talk to my dogs.

six years, eight months of being without him.

time flies even when you're not having fun.

6 years

i am still grieving.

i have found my footing, i think.  i am living.  i work and visit my daughter and grandson.  i live with my dogs and take care of them.  i take care of me as best as i can.  but what is hidden behind a smile can be a terrible thing.

a widow i knew only online, and through fairly regular phone calls over these 6 years killed herself in January on her wedding anniversary.  her daughter called me.  it seems my friend apologized to me in her note for not being able to stay.  she left my phone number so i could be told in a quiet phone call on a random Wednesday while driving to work.

my heart is shattered.  new grief on top of old grief.  the loneliness of this journey just got lonelier.  and darker.  i wish she had called me.  i wish, i wish, i wish.  "if wishes were horses, then beggars could ride."

a widower i met once but have kept up with through Facebook has received some terrible news.  his new husband is critically ill.  no real way of knowing how it could go.

i have kept myself to myself today, the anniversary of my own husband's death, but i had to reach out to this man.  i wrote to him that i was keeping him in my prayers.  his response was one of great fear and worry; of trying to keep it in check.  new grief on top of old grief.

i wrote back to him and felt it appropriate to put here for myself, for him, for any of us who grieve.  this is what i wrote to him:
love never breaks. it breaks down. it cries. it even curses fate sometimes. but it never breaks.

i met you for a brief time. we only got the chance to sit and speak for a very, very short time, but i remember you. i remember feeling your soul in your words i got to see the real you looking into your eyes. in your voice was sorrow and grief but a strength i wish i had had so early on in my own grief. when your hand held mine for a quiet moment as i cried, i felt your own courage and the solitude that i had been living in slipped away, if only for that moment. you gave me a moment of comfort and it has lasted me these 6 long years.

i have been very much alone with my grief throughout but when i feel despair; when i feel the solitude crushing down; when it hits me very hard that i have no one to really talk to; i remember those few minutes with you.

you have inside you an old soul, but also the resiliency of a young one. you have the ability to keep the candle of hope lit on a very windy, stormy, dark night. cry when you have to. be angry and question when you need to. but know that breaking down is not breaking. it merely gives you the chance to catch your breath so you can stand up stronger to face whatever comes your way.

we draw on what little we get to keep ourselves going; to keep ourselves warm; to light the darkness.

6 years later i still break down. i still cry.  i still miss him.

i am still adjusting the way i think of things.  i think i always will.

i have been asked questions with a "do you" and "why."  here are my answers.

yes, i still wear my wedding rings.  because if feels right.  
no, the thought of someone else does not enter my mind.  because it does not feel right.

i will love him all the days of my life. 

peace to all who read.  peace and light to all who grieve.