time

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.

together.

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.

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.

11 August 2010 ~ wedding anniversary

my eyes pour out their sorrow

while my mind smiles

and embraces our memories.

if i keep my eyes closed forever

i'll be able to hold you close

through the darkest days.

i cry out to the night,

and to the morning,

"i need you,

i love you,

come back to me."

but my words fall back

on me like the heaviest snow

on the most brutal winter day

and i fall back onto the bed with

eyes half closed and arms stretched out

to accept the staggering pain of the loss of you.

this day keeps coming back to my mind. there was a brutal wind and gold sunshine before the coming storm. i kept taking my gloves off to use the camera. and i got cold.

i keep hearing your voice, remembering all the words of love and concern from that day

here on the eve of our wedding anniversary.

"oh, baby, don't lay down. oh, my love, stand up."

"no, honey, you're not too warm, you're actually very cold."

"i'll get you home. i'll get you warm."

"don't cry, baby. it's not your fault."

"stay awake for me. look at me, baby. that's it. keep looking at me."

"i'm sorry but the water needs to be warm. oh, love, i know it hurts."

"no, your fingers look fine. they do. i promise."

"these are my sweats. they're heavier, much thicker and warm."

'lean on me. let me put these socks on for you. i just got them out of the dryer."

"here, drink this. yeah, i know. i put whiskey in it, but it'll help warm you up."

"you're looking better. how's my Beach Bunny? you feelin' alright?"

and the one that haunts me so tonight as it did last night

"i don't know what i'd do if i lost you. you're my very soul."

happy anniversary, Dragon, my love, my very soul.

i miss you & i love you.

you are the voice inside my head that keeps me together.

even knowing i'd be sitting here tonight as i am,

deeply in love with you,

deeply in mourning,

i'd do it all over again.

i'd say, "i do."

"Sock" Beach Bunny

i call her "Sock" Beach Bunny. she isn't as lovely as my store-bought Bunny. she looks more like me. her stuffing has shifted with age. she's not as thin as she used to be. she looks a little care-worn. she is definitely more me.

i made her from the pair of socks my Dragon wore the day he died. i cannot tell the story of how this certain pair of socks became so important. his birthday is Thursday. i fly out on Friday morning. i'll cry if i type it and i have sewing to finish up today. i got my hair trimmed yesterday. i have a shaggy bob whatever the hell that is. tomorrow my daughter is coming over to highlight my hair. she insists i do it. she says it will make me feel good. i just like it when she comes over.
i hand-appliqued a silk dragon on the back of her little jacket. Dragon has her back so anybody who wants to be mean, beware. "here there be Dragons." =0} Bunny has a rough, tough Dragon who, though he is not really here, his love and her love for him keeps her getting tougher every few months....you know, these things take time, and i miss him a lot...... *sigh*

i embroidered {tattooed?} a purple heart to her chest since she has been "wounded by life."

she's going to Camp Widow. she will be in the pictures i do not want to be in, or am too self-conscious to be in.......i need a rum and coke. i always look better to everyone after they have a rum and coke.

Beach Bunny signing off until next week.

peace.

what grief will make one do

i miss my Dragon. i have almost finished the top of my own quilt. i am bringing it to San Diego, just the top, unfinished.

i read the words of widows and widowers online. it is my window to a world that is too busy to see me looking out. i am a little worried that i am not trying anymore. i am envisioning myself sitting at a table at Camp Widow alone, waiting for someone to stop by and look, to talk to me. i see myself sitting there while people team up for lunch, to hug and laugh, and i will not have the social skills to walk over much less speak. the last 17 and a half months have taught me that i am easily discarded.

i have had 3 people string me along for commissions. waiting. waiting. each time they email it is, "i'm mailing it this week." 2 weeks pass, 5 weeks. i cannot harass but i need work. i need to eat, to live. i can get angry but i have no voice. so complicated. things i cannot say. no one to say it privately to.

i miss him. he is my best friend. he would talk to me, listen to me, all day, all night, every day, every night. he noticed me. he cared about me so much. he liked me as well as loved me. and now i am silent for hours and days, weeks and months. my daughter calls every day, but we do not sit and talk for even 20 minutes. she checks in on me and then has her life to tend to. the accumulation of my silence is a weight on my mind.

with him alive, i was never alone, even when he had to leave for a mission i was not alone. he was out there loving me.

i can sometimes feel;

i tell myself;

i believe he knows i will never get over losing him.

he knows we are two who are more than a couple.....
we are one.
i miss our days together. i miss his friendship. i miss walking with him, exploring with him, living with him.
i miss our nights together.

and rising out of the heat of the day, it comes.

i have nothing to say that has not been said before. i have no new photos except for one. the moon. time passes and i grieve. i have nothing new to offer. nothing has changed for me. this is what grief will make one do. i reach out to a world that is aloof. i write to anyone and no one.

that's not true. i write to him.

maybe he knows. surely he knows. i pray he understands the power he had over me, the magic he shared with me, and the love he wove around me. i cannot breathe without him even though i do. i cannot sleep without him though i do rest upon occasion. i cannot live without him even though i am still existing.

Dragon days are coming and i am having a hard time. his birthday, our wedding anniversary, our first date. all in August. the month of my Dragon.

and 18 months ~ a year and a half. i will be alone for it. flying back from San Diego surrounded by strangers. trying not to cry. shit.

surely he is waiting. please, God, just this one thing. let him be waiting for me. i need the comfort of his embrace, his smile, and his eternal love.

i need my magnificent Dragon.

separation anxiety

hello, my Love, can you hear me? where you are? do you know i’m still down here, longing for you, missing you? or are you protected from the travails of this life? am i writing only to myself, to be heard by myself only, which means this is a pointless endeavor? but if in writing this, if it comforts me and gets it all off my mind, it is not time wasted. maybe it is time spent getting through this latest mood. writing is what i have to say things i cannot say outright to my children. and it is not like i can call up a friend and say, “i need to talk about this. i need you to come visit me, maybe have lunch.” i am not connected to anyone here. not like that.

so here i am, writing to you knowing that when i check back, there will be no answer.

i’m still here. i still miss you as much as the night you died and i wish i could talk to you face-to-face. i need you. i am in pain. i am not sure if i am supposed to be “better” by now or not. i am not even sure what “better” is supposed to feel like. i can honestly say i am further along than i was based on the fact that i no longer cry multiple times a day and there are days i do not cry at all, but i am pensive everyday. i am melancholy, which i guess can be looked at as the lighter side of sadness. that is a kind of improvement from where i was in those first months.

i am lonely for you. i pine for you. i miss you terribly. i do not need to fill my calendar with a plefora of people. i really only want you. i admit i am weak sometimes and would not mind having a friend i could call. i would like to talk about you and tell someone stories about you without fear of being interrupted or the awareness that, like in the grief group i went to for a while, that people are simply biding their time, half listening, until they or someone else jumps in to take over, and then i am forgotten. the kids tell me i do not stand up for myself anymore. our daughter is especially angry with some of the things that have happened to me and i know you would be mad as hell. but what i feel is that i could get mad and tell people how their actions and inaction has affected me, but they quite simply will not care. i was a only blip on their screen and that is okay with me. i really only want to be with you.

i wish you had not had to go. i really need you to go through this life with me. i am tired. i feel so weak sometimes that i am not sure if i can do this yet there is no other choice. the kids are grown so it is not like i have to wake up and say, “i am here for them. i have to get them through school, or through college.” we did that. the realization that life is going to be this quiet for the rest of my life is a terrible thought especially considering how far i am from the ocean. day in and day out i will be without your laughter, your voice, and your touching me. it is a vacuum. i am living in a vacuum. i have been condemned to sensory depravation, the loss of your physical presence.

the kids were both here for the July 4^th holiday – all weekend i had them both. it was so wonderful and yet all three of us missed you. we talked about you and looked at pictures. we tried to work on my scrapbook album thing but there were so many other things we wanted to do together and a very narrow window of time. i wish i could get my scrapbook finished. c’est la vie for me.

our son told me that he sees how different i am. his living in Florida means he does not see me like his sister does so he will notice this. he was a bit shocked and more than a little worried. he told me i am quieter than before. he said i am quiet like i am when i have to be around their father. careful quiet. i had to tell him that i would never be the same.

i told him that the greatest man i will ever know died. i told him that he influenced me and did more for me than all the people i have ever known put together. and now he is dead. i explained that maybe i am taking longer because i have grieved alone, without benefit of a friend to come sit with me, and without the benefit of being in a familiar place. from the moment he died nothing has been my choice or my decision. he died in February and i really did not wake up until late in November. and i was here.

august is coming and i am already blind again with grief. your birthday, the one and a half year anniversary of your death all occur during that Camp Widow thing i am going to. our wedding anniversary will happen the day after i get back. all this will hit when i am surrounded by people who are vested in so many other people and things. and the kids are right. i do not know how to speak for myself. i will be in the middle of a crowd and i will not tell them i am being crushed inside by this sorrow.

i am afraid to go. i know if you were here listening to me tell you this in person, you would come sit down and pull me in your lap. i miss that part of our relationship. we always had these wonderful, very tactile conversations. i always felt comforted, always felt valuable. now, our daughter hugs me. our son hugs me. it is not the same. i miss your eyes looking at me when i talked. i miss using so many words out loud. i have tried to talk to others but i can hear the clock ticking on the time i think they want to hear my voice. i think i am my own worst enemy.

i have aged so much. i have gained some weight from not being able to walk like we used to. to go from climbing on the rocks, from walking six to eight miles a day to walking the dogs within sight of my apartment door so i can run with them back inside when loose dogs attack is depressing. i miss you so much because you did not seem afraid of anything. you were not even afraid of the dark.

i was born a mouse. i learned to be a shadow during my childhood so i could try to go unnoticed as much as possible. i married and became the head Musketeer. i adapted myself to stealth and subterfuge so i could protect the kids. then i was allowed a moment of grace. i was allowed to be your wife, a real person, loved and valued. i got to taste a life lived in the light until that light was extinguished. now i want to live somewhere else because i am someone else. i would not mind being separate physically because i feel separate mentally.

you died. i hate euphemisms. you are not lost to me. you did not pass on. you died and i worked on you and tried to save you and i failed. i FAILED. i failed you. i could not bring you back. i sat beside you after you died and the world fell away.

and so i am different now. i am quieter. i look at myself and i see an old woman who does not belong anywhere because the only place she belonged was with you.

except maybe ……

i want to go home to the ocean. i am so tired of all this concrete. i get despondent seeing only a small swath of sky that peeks through two buildings. the only water nearby stinks because it is littered with trash from people who do not give a damn.

i want a small house with a small yard. i am not asking for luxury. well, i am because a little place by the ocean is a luxury. sorry. i would carve shutters for my house. i would die-cut out lobsters and starfish. each shutter would have a different design. i would fence the yard and call it Scotland Yard. the puppies would have room to play and i could have a garden again.

i would paint, and sew, take photographs, collect driftwood and shells and things for my sculptures. i would carve wood and build stained glass windows. and i would do what i am doing now. i would fantasize about you. i would draw on memories and go back for a while to living in the past when the present without you is too painful. and if anyone tells me that i am grieving all wrong, i can honestly say, as i do now, where were you when you knew i needed you? what do you care what happens to me?

then i would have a door that i could close. i would turn away from them and look out my windows at the eternity of the ocean. and i would dream of us.

i always dream of us.

the art of grief

with all the books i’ve read, all the writings online i’ve read from those who grieve, and the way i, myself, feel, i do not see any true path to grief. there is no lighted runway that we are all circling in the darkness above trying to find. there is no single path to enduring this pain. i have seen people reaching out online and find it a struggle to be understood. i hear of struggles with family and friends not understanding what is "taking so long." even those who are grieving sometimes have a hard time finding it in their hearts to be compassionate towards their fellow widows and widowers.

each road in life is different so it stands to reason that each road of grief is different. for me, i was holding hands with my Dragon beloved on the road we both had chosen. we were a force to be reckoned with because of our love and devotion to each other. united, we faced whatever came our way.

and then he died.

it was so sudden that while he gasped for breath, i was gasping for air. confused and devastated, i worked on him, talked to him, left him to open the door for the Paramedics, sat in the police car racing to the hospital, to wait only 5 minutes before they came to tell me he had died.

and so i am left here on this earth with people who do not know me, people who have not accepted me, people who do not see value in me. i met two widows my age that could have been friends but used me in an unkind way. i was one’s “last ditch friend if my other friends aren't around,” her words to me. and i was the “crutch” for another and eventually abandoned because i did not call her everyday to check on her and do not own a car to bring her her meals.

in college i majored in art and psychology with a minor in philosophy. i took an argumentative logic class and on the wall above the chalk board was a sign that read: It is so seldom that we feel listened to that I wonder why it is we spend so much time talking. that semester he used it as the only question on our final exam. i believed that statement then and i believe it now.

however i fight against the sometime reality of it.

on that final i wrote that if we ever stopped talking to each other we would become disconnected and then we, ourselves, the part of us that longs for companionship, would suffer greatly. i wrote that we needed to try to communicate, however frustrating it is, because to lose the desire to try and connect means we have given up on being seen; that we were giving up on ourselves. then when we are in real trouble, we will not have anyone to call out to.

i tried to call out to others for decades, but no one listened. then i met a Dragon and he heard me off in the shadows. he wanted me. he loved (loves) me. i have value to him.

he left me behind and though i know he did not want to, the result is the same. and i still feel that if one of us had to go first it should have been me because i am so tired of people and life handing me sloppy fourths. but that is the weak, selfish part of me, my id. the part of me that wants to do the right thing, to be a better person, my superego, wants to try to do good things with my life. i want to feel brave enough to set free all that i am and have kept hidden and protected through all the years before i met my Dragon. he was working on my self-confidence. i need to honor him and honor myself with continuing that work. i want to earn my dragoness scales so when it is my turn to fly away from here, i can, with dignity and grace.

but it is tiring to work on my self-confidence and grieve for him while facing all that has happened to me since he died.

the VA, God bless them, are still working on my monthly stipend. i swear, if i owed them money, i would get a letter a week plus phone calls.

so i make things. i make them for other people and for myself. i sew. i bead. i quilt. i hand appliqué. i do it all by hand. it is solitary work. my own art of grief.

for this kind of work i should be living in a lighthouse on some remote island with a mail boat coming twice a month. now that would be heaven on earth. imagine my view of the moon and stars from there. imagine the storms coming in off the ocean. imagine the wind, the shells, the driftwood on the beach. imagine the things i could make.

and if i wasn't heard from out there, there would be the reason of geography rather than neglect. but having the pull to the ocean that i have inside me, i do not think i would be sitting inside much. i would set up my work outside for as long as weather would allow. my music would be the wind and the water and the gulls. and i would always believe i could hear dragon's wings behind the clouds. fantasy. whimsey. delusions. on an island like this, it would only add to my imagination, to my creativity.

there is another kind of art to grief. it is in facing it without letting anyone get to you with their pressures of how you should be doing or what you should be doing or feeling at any given point along the road. i have been looking for 16 months for someone to talk to to no avail. i do not have money to pay someone to talk to. i do not seem to be a good enough friend based on that same monetary limitation. what i say and what i give freely of myself is not enough. and so i make things. art is my grief therapy - my art of grief. all my creative work through every day and all my thoughts of my Dragon are what are seeing me through. these two things are my company on this road.

i am doing the best i can while i amble along this lonely road. i am going my own way. i am reassuring my children i will be okay. and without him, without the wondrous love of my Dragon, okay is the best i can hope for. dear Lord, i miss him.

i used to feel him there before i woke. if i had to tell you something great about being with him off the top of my head, it would be that i could feel him near without having to see him. if i had gone alone to the beach, i would sense him coming to me. i would look up and wait for a pause, and there he would be, standing at the top of the drop off casting his eyes to find me among the rocky shoreline. i would wave. he would smile and head down to me.

he would say the same about me. we always felt the presence of the other.

i used to wake in fear and trepidation for what the day would bring but when he came into my life, it all changed. the entire world could fall away, or we could fall off the edge and it would be okay. i would be with my Dragon and we would be holding hands.

i pray that i will be with him again and this time, we will fly together beyond the ending of time.

loose ends

i am at loose ends. see them all? bits and pieces of colored threads are all over me, all over my apartment. i vacuum everyday. and then i sit down to work for about 12 - 15 hours and when i get up to go to bed, there they are. all over me, all over the place.

loose threads.

loose ends. me ~ at loose ends. it's a metaphor.

i feel myself quietly falling apart. or, i fell apart when i saw them coming to me to tell me he had died and i have not, as of yet, put myself together.

my heart is gone. i know i have told you that. i do not feel it anymore. but that's okay because i know where it is. my Dragon has it in his safe keeping. knowing i was not going to be going with him this trip, it was all i had to give. i need my mind, but since he had to leave me, he can have my heart.

i won't be needing it here anymore.

i have settled into depression. it is the kind that there is no pill for. i miss him. i love him. i wish he were here for me to talk to. i would even settle for talking to him on a sat phone if only i could know that he was somewhere on the planet. his voice did such lovely, warm things to my insides.

i look at his urn and i cannot believe he is inside there. he is larger than life, a myth come to life. how can he be reduced to that?
but it is his soul that is larger than life. his soul that filled the room, filled my heart, my life, my whole world. and his soul is not in there; just the part of him that i could hug.

i still cry at the drop of a hat. the tears are not going away. i drink green tea and V8 all day to keep me hydrated. i do not know what to do with myself. i feel listless. i feel empty.

i feel like my soul is gone from me. it is off out there somewhere aching, crying, calling for its mate. i still have to be here and be alive, but my soul at least has the power to grieve properly, wildly, deeply. very Queen Victoria-like.

my whole life has been turned upside down and all the stuffing is rushing to my head. and i am at loose ends without him.
we were going to go out together, "Bicentennial Man"-ish. holding hands. very old. ready to take the next step. together. but someone screwed up the scheduling. he did not get to "grow old along with me." we are not together.

they made him go by himself. and i would like proof from an angel that he's okay. okay?

please?

hello, God?

i'm at loose ends here.

okay, well, You're busy. but at least note that in all my prayers through the day, i ask to be reunited with him, on Your timetable, of course. i am not pressuring You, just begging. i do not want to make You mad.

please. he needs me and i need him.

marriage is a sacrament and he and i took our sacrament very seriously.

and love is the most powerful force in the universe, and can conquer time. "faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13

and i love him with all my heart and soul.

so, is that a yes?

old photos

my dearest Dragon, my lovely soul,

it's another Sunday. in one week and 14 hours, you will have been gone from me for 15 months. and i feel it. in my mind, on my skin, in my lungs, and where my heart used to be.

i still cry. often. i do not know if that's okay or normal, or if i am stagnating here at the realization that i am living without you. i would look at you, and at time, my love, i would never think it possible. i took so many pictures of you. from behind you all sneaky and making you pose for me. you never got used to my taking pictures. you never thought i would run out.

but 14 months and 3 weeks ago i stopped being allowed to take your picture. and no, i do not have enough. what happens when i run out of pictures of you to fiddle with and post?

you are cute. you are handsome. funny. adventurous. daring. charming. dangerous. trustworthy. mine. and i am yours.

i sulk sometimes. i know it is wrong. but when i think of the home we were planning on buying, on all our dreams that ceased to be the moment you died, it cuts me in half. our lovely old fort at the end of the Neck - we are not there. i miss us. i miss the ocean. i miss our walks. our island. the gulls. taking your picture. i miss you.
i miss your laugh. where do i go from here now that you have had to go so far ahead of me. you are out of sight but not out of mind. Lord, help me i think of you and wish things had been different. i wish you were here with me. not even in our dream house, just here with me. i am so lonely. it is often a physical pain and my only recourse is to write, or to close my eyes and fantasize of you, or go find the moon.

your serious face. i zoomed from the other room. you were reading contracts and being all working and focused and thinking. i love you mustache and beard. i miss touching them. i miss your eyes, the intensity and the joy. you have such powerful emotions. you were so articulate but your eyes, even more so.

i talk to you even though i will never hear your voice again. i tell you everything, still. this happened. i felt like that about whatever. all the little things that make up a day i still share with you. like today. that woman with the two chihuahuas turned them out again - no leashes. they snarled and circled us. pinned us against a tree. and i had our dogs' leash wrapped awkwardly around my hand. it was tight against my knuckles and when Carmen and Scootie tried to protect me and each other, it crushed my knuckles. hurt really bad. not big deal. iced it and then went back to sewing, but it would not have happened if you were here. you would have reached over and picked her dogs up by the scruff of their necks and probably done something outrageous like head for the trash can. you would never hurt the dogs, but you would have made your point. or you would have our dogs tight in your own solid hand, strong, safe. you would not have gotten pinned against a tree.

just stupid stuff like that that upsets me now that i am alone - now that you aren't here anymore. nothing is horribly wrong but nothing is right, not without you.

i miss our adventures. i miss our walks. it is 2:233 PM here on the east coast. Mass would be long over. we would returned home to have had our usual languid morning together. then lunch and we'd pack up for the afternoon. we'd be on the rocks. the beach. collecting all the miracles that can be found at the ocean's edge. i miss the roar. i miss the gulls. i miss the salty smell. i miss the wind. i miss the utter freedom that comes from being with you.

safe yet wildly exciting. every day was grand. every day was filled with love. even the bad times had the grace of your love and care for me. in all our years together we had two fights. two. and being the man and therefore being wrong, you admitted you were wrong. i am trying for humor but i failed in making myself smile. because i miss you so much.

i miss our life. i miss your love. i miss your being here with me so i could talk to you, tease you, and touch you.

i am running out of pictures that show you in all your worthiness to be put online. the others are either missed shots (that i am keeping regardless) or shots where you have made a funny face and those are for me alone. silly man. playful. fun.

it is hurting so bad to think that these can almost be called "old photos."

you are now free from this life we shared. i wish i could have gone with you. i wish you could have stayed longer. but i do imagine you free and wild, your spirit so joyously happy. i know how adventurous you are. you must be having a glorious time.

i am lonely for you. i need .......... whatever. it does not matter. i cannot have what i want and there is no one to call to come over to talk to me. so i crawl away and get back to work.

two souls separated. one is free. one is earthbound. i pray you remember me. i pray that one day we are together again. off on another adventure.

and i will not need pictures anymore because nothing will separate us ever again.