the hug

there is this thing we did that i miss.

we would hug.

or more than hug, by definition, but it was a hug.

 we hugged like people imagine a hug, but we also did this one other thing,

do it this one other way.

i have had a life of being starved for human contact, for the need of being touched.

my parents did not touch us, my brother and me.  they were not affectionate people.

my grandparents would hug us, hold our hands, but our parents did not.

and oddly now that i think of it, our grandparents did not touch us in front of our parents.

my first husband hated being touched.  he hated touching me

he told me once to never touch him.  so i was very careful if we stood in close proximity.

no holding hands.  no sitting on the sofa together.  no touching.

he slept in a different bedroom and for 15+ years, i was not touched by him.

as my children grew up, i kept holding their hands, ruffling their hair, kissing their cheeks,

and hugging them.

i never wanted them to feel alone in the world.

 i never wanted them to feel worthless, or like there was something wrong with them.

there is nothing wrong with wanting a hug, or wanting to hold someone's hand.

my Dragon liked touching me.

he would hold my hand.

he would hug me.

but he would also do this one other thing.

i would lay down on the bed and he would lay down on top of me and hold me.

i would feel his big body pressing down on me.

he would nuzzle my neck and whisper in my ear,

"i love you.  you are mine and you are safe.

i will never tire of touching you.

you are my love forever and ever."

i had told him what it felt like to realize the people

who are supposed to love you to not want to touch you.

he never wanted me to feel like that again.

i feel that again.  so i close my eyes

and remember the hug.

birthday

i have this weekend off.  today, tomorrow, and sunday.  laundry done.  a bit of food in the fridge.  going in the morning for an oil change.  cable television cancelled.  only internet now.  counting pennies.  filed a waiver of hardship with the VA....waiting.  exhausted and lonely and......

but i have my dogs and a job and my children.  i do have my bit of money even if i juggle the food end of things.  i have health care.  i had love.

i had my time at the ocean's edge.  i had my love, my Dragon.  {i still have him in my every thought.}

i went to the doctor for my hand.  it's in a splint now.  bone chip.  all this time it was a legitimate health issue and not my being tired and fretful or arthritis.  well, there is arthritis there, too, but he said, "chipped bone in there, so that must be hurting quite a bit more than regular arthritis."  it does.  it will for a while.  i didn't accept a pain script.  i can deal with pain.  don't need to spend that money.

it's coming on my "season."  my birthday is next week.  i will be 2 years older than my mother was when she died.  it feels weird.

9 February will be 4 years since he died.  it feels so long ago and then i gasp and it feels like last summer.  the pain can burn inside my veins and my neck feels hot.  my tears burn my eyes.  i shake.

eyes open, eyes closed, i can still feel him beside me; remember what it was like.  i remember holding his hand.  touching his beard.

but i look at pictures of him and i feel lost from him.  the memory, vivid though it is, feels far away.  there is an ebb and flow to the intensity of my memories.  i feel like i strain for more - like the way he smelled, the sound of his voice.  touch is all i can remember really well and the warmth of his body.  is it because my mind is purposely trying to cloud the memories behind a veil to protect me from continuing this hard grief?

i miss him so.  i miss the simple companionship we had.  i drive home from work at 10 PM and i hang up from talking to my daughter.  i know i will walk into my apartment to care for my little dogs, but i will have no supper waiting, no warm arms to embrace me, no questions about how my day was, no one to wonder should i not make it home that night.

my birthday is coming up and there will be no party.  i work that day.  it's not big deal.  i'll be turning 55.  not any big deal at all.

and it's childish of me to wish it were a small bit of a big deal.

i wish i could call him back to me.  i always, still, look to the moon.  but is it more the analogy that i have put myself on the moon looking down at life?  am i the one that is still and lifeless?  or is my image of my Dragon flying off to Heaven, around the moon, looking back at me that is the correct one?  is any dream of a lost loved one, dreams that last forever, healthy?  am i moving on as they say?  i am living.  but i love him.  i am supporting myself, fighting for myself, but i still love him.  the ebb and flow of the salt water that makes up my tears.

LOOK how the pale queen of the silent night

Doth cause the ocean to attend upon her,

And he, as long as she is in his sight,

With her full tide is ready her to honor.

But when the silver waggon of the moon

Is mounted up so high he cannot follow,

The sea calls home his crystal waves to moan,

And with low ebb doth manifest his sorrow.

So you that are the sovereign of my heart

Have all my joys attending on your will;

My joys low-ebbing when you do depart,

When you return their tide my heart doth fill.

So as you come and as you do depart,

Joys ebb and flow within my tender heart.

Charles Best

 my birthday is coming up.  i have two friends who will be waiting for me to come back to them after work.  i think i will stop off and get a cupcake and a candle and make a wish.

Mr. Scootie Wootums, Lord of the Dance with the Stardust Eyes

 Ms. Carmen Sophia, the Wild Gypsy Girl with the Sensitive Soul

the kind of friends who are constant in an inconstant world.

Christmas

Christmas night is here.  i had my to children with me today.  my son got here on the evening of the 23rd.  spent all Christmas eve with him and my daughter, and all Christmas day.  my two babies together.  the Three Musketeers.

she left after supper to go back to her place with her husband.  he is leaving tomorrow on a plane.  hard to see him go.  so hard to see the sun set and know that this time of togetherness is over.

they are the lights of my life - fun, funny, decent, kind, sensitive, strong, protective, helpful, caring - i adore them both.  i need them so much.

i wish this Christmas would never end; that the clock had broken and we were just sitting there talking and laughing forever.

i think that that is how i will always remember them; us; laughing and talking and just being together in that moment.

the best gifts do not come in wrapping paper.  they come in cars and on airplanes and they wear clothes and they smile and talk and they call you "mom."

i wish he were here.  i miss him so much when the children return to their lives.  this "empty nest" would be a tad easier if i had his arms to turn to.  but i will cuddle down in bed with the dogs and think about one day at a time.  worry about one day.  that's all i can handle.

$12,380 is what the VA wants paid back.  it's their fault.  i wrote to them.  they admit it in their letter.  my son and daughter got together to read the letter today.  we are fighting it.  we are going to file for a waiver.  financial hardship.  can't pay that back.  not my fault if they kept sending me money.

my fingers are crossed.  i hope they see reason and let one widow just slide on by.  just let me go, please.

i wish all who read a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  i wish all who read peace in their hearts and minds and rest for their weary spirits.

i am headed to bed to thank my lucky stars for my two children and this one Christmas that we got to have together.

home to the puzzle box ~ my grief at 3 years 3 months

first off, don't be startled with the first "song."  it really is what you're hearing.  i found a fog horn.  keep reading.  it has meaning.

i'm ahead of myself.  it won't be 3 years, 3 months until tomorrow night at midnight, but i have a bit of time this afternoon, taking a break from embroidery work, and i wanted to get my thoughts down.

at this point in my life, i sincerely believe what i wrote up there in gold under my main photo.  i had once thought of my whole life as a journey.  i was arrogant, and so very wrong.  it was simply my life.  now that my Dragon has died, i am truly on a journey.  grief, dealing with his death and all the questions, guilt, and fears that came with it; this is my journey.

in the days and weeks that followed his death i used to ask myself, why did we only get 8 years?  why had all the terrors of my life lead me to the warmth of his love, only to take it away after so short a time?  i told myself, i have convinced myself, that his death was predestined and that his guardian angel was not going to let him die alone.  after the life he lead, the missions he went on as a Marine, all the times he must have wondered, "will i die out here and nobody come claim my body," all the times he came home wounded, the fears he must have had, he died with me holding him, giving him CPR, talking to him, soothing him, telling him he was so very dearly loved.

and it is me left to deal with what's left all alone.

i read once that "death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind towards some resolution which it may never find."  in my experience that is true.  my relationship with my husband has not ended.  i still wear my wedding rings.  at this point, i most likely always will.  i cannot take them off without feeling claustrophobic.

i do have my memories of him, of where we walked, of our little place by the ocean, up in the cove.  there was  a small gate off our property that we walked through to get to the beach.

 we had to walk through our gate and across the top of the ridge to get down to the beach because we were set up a bit high.

this view is from the back yard, looking southeast towards Thatcher light.

and this is from the edge of our backyard looking east northeast toward what i always called, my island.

this the view looking out from the den toward "my island" that i saw everyday.  we'd hear the fog horn sound sometimes, especially at night, and know that lonely sound was reaching out to any mariner who was still out there trying to find their way home.  we'd listen to the wind rattle the windows.

i took this set of three photos the day before one Thanksgiving.  a nor'easter was expected that night with high winds.  i loved those nights.

he and i would lay together upstairs in our small bedroom under the eves and snuggle.  we'd hear the ice hit the glass behind our headboard.

i hold onto those memories when i drive the now half hour to work and all i see is concrete and red earth and traffic.  i humbly thank God for my job that pays my way to survive, but when i am back at the apartment with my little Carmen Sophia and my dashing Scootie Wootums, i remember when i could walk them on the beach.  i remember when we would sit and laugh at them bite at the water rushing the sand and rocks.

i remember feeling the sunshine on my skin and the wind in my hair.  i remember the smell of salt and the sound of gulls and water.

oh, and that Thanksgiving morning?  we woke to this.

i miss him terribly.  i miss him and still sometimes cry.  i miss him in songs i hear.  i wish i could tell him things.

i talked to a widow i know who lives across the Pond in Europe, and she agreed with me.  she and i will probably never look for another man.  she is two months longer into her widow journey than i so we are at the same place time-wise, and seem to be at the same place emotionally.

we miss them.  we are doing what we can to make this journey tolerable.  she in her way.  me in mine.

i look for peace.  i try to create it when i cannot find it.  and i tell myself that i'm doing alright when what i feel is sort of the opposite.  i am lonely, but not for anyone but him.  only he will do.  i look at myself and say, "you're out of the box."  we were a puzzle that had two pieces.  he is back in the box.  i am still out here in the world struggling to make sense of what's left.  he got to where he was supposed to be, but it was much too soon for me.  he left me behind.  our timelines were off.

in every life there comes a journey.  maybe we think we choose it, but i don't think so.  i think it chooses us.  i am what i am making of myself with what life has left me with, which, compared to what i had, isn't much.  well, it certainly isn't as scenically beautiful.

i miss the ocean.  i miss the snow.  i miss the wind, water, gulls, and the fog horn.  i sometimes wonder if, when i dream i hear that fog horn, it really is sounding off up there and is reaching out to me trying to call me home.  home to the ocean's edge.   home to the beach i knew and loved.

or maybe that fog horn i still here in my mind and in my heart is letting me know that it is out there in the fog i cannot see through, the fog of what's to come; letting me know i have a sound to walk towards so i can find my way home.........

home to the puzzle box where my darling, beautiful Dragon's piece sits and waits for me.

3

see that main photo up there? that's Beach Bunny with her Home Buns. {omgosh i can't believe i typed that. it's the antibiotic talking. and the hot tea. and the mist from the humidifier. and the, oh give it up. i'm just a silly woman who loves her Bunny and the comfort that she brings.}

Bunny came back from work to find flowers from SSSF, his new fiancee, and his daughter. thank you. she was dragging her weary white tail up the stairs to her door in the fading light and there they sat.

bright. cheerful. but more importantly, they were whispering that someone remembered and understands.
Bunny got lots of very nice comments on her Facebook posting about what yesterday and today means to her.

she's moody tonight. teary.

yep, very teary, but not breaking down into sobs.

see that photo below? he was laughing at Bunny. and he was signing. "i love you." he could tell i was zooming in on him. he was just back from being "out-of-town." his stomach was all bandaged up from being shot. such a Marine. he called it being "nicked." "hi, honey. i'm on my way home. got the job done. oh, got nicked. nothing major."
he was so happy to be home. he was so funny when he was mending. "it's not as bad as it looks. i've had worse done. well, you remember last fall." {yeah, Baby, i do. and i love you so much. now just rest and i'm going out to take these shots for the magazine. they've already paid me for them. i need them off by Sunday.} "wait up. i'm coming with you."

so i told him to just stand up on the rocks while i went down to where i needed to set up the tripod. and there he was. enjoying the day. enjoying being home with me beside the ocean.

enjoying being alive.

and now he is the shadow man of my dreams. he is the rising sun and the setting sun. he is the moon at night and the stars in the sky. he is the wind in my hair and the warmth of the day on my skin. he is the end all be all of my life.

he is my Dragon and i am forever his.

14 February 2011 // SSSF's gift of a book

tomorrow is Valentine's Day. there will be gifts or the memory of gifts. there will be affection and passion and romance, or the memory of such things.

it will be all those things for me and one more thing. it is the anniversary of my Dragon's funeral. bad family things happened at his funeral that i have not surrendered to the universe. i am working through it, but just not quite there yet. no one to forgive because no one has asked.

i thankfully work tomorrow. i hope the day is as busy as Saturday was. i hope today is crammed with people so i am focused on the here and now.

but ever present in my mind is him. my strong, magnificent, beautiful Dragon. such a man.
none will compare. i feel no connection with anyone. i have no interest in sex or romance, or passion. i had so much overwhelming, heavenly, incredible sex, romance, and passion with him that, well, his scent is all i want. his touch, his voice, his love.

i am reading the most wonderful book anyone has ever clued me into since my Dragon's death. thank you SSSF. Madeleine L'Engle. "Walking on Water Reflections on Faith and Art." i love this book.

"in our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God." ~ Aeschylus

i love you, my handsome, lovely Dragon. i miss you. you are my sunlight, the stars in my sky, my happiness, my breathe, my life. and now you are my moon. happy Valentine's Day. you are my heart.

stress, fear, grief

the full moon is returning. i get anxious for it. what if there is cloud cover? what if the new camera stops working? what if whatever is growling out there in the darkness comes out of the stand of trees and gets me? {another story. *sigh*}

i have a quilt in the frame to get finished in time for a young man to receive it before Christmas. what if my hand keeps cramping? what if the double quilting takes me longer? what if i get it to the post office too late? what if the mail is slow?

Build-A-Bear has not called. what if they do not want me? what if i do not ever get the chance to wear the blue blouse and build a bear for someone?

i have a job interview at Sears on Tuesday morning. what if they do not want me?

i have filled out a job application for Michael's Craft Store. what if they do not want me?

i am a f*cking artist! i can type between 78 and 88 wpm. i am detail oriented, meticulous with order, filing, notes, appointments. i have a crazy, off-the-charts memory. though no one who has met me in the widow world would believe me, in the business world i am on top of all my responsibilities. i will get the quilt done and to the post office in time if i have to work 24/7. i am intelligent, resourceful, on task, look for more work to stay busy and earn my keep. i have experience in a number of capacities. i can balance a spreadsheet. i can clean well enough for surgery. i can strategize for multiple problems. i am intuitive to people's moods and feelings. i would never say anything to hurt anyone. i think very hard before i speak. i would be good at customer service.

i have so many skills. why can i not get a job in the real world? my art is my life and soul but i need a steady stream of income. i need it yesterday. i was awesome at the interview at Build-A-Bear. the only thing was that i was not 18 - 21 like the other women were. i had more on the ball and answered first. those girls answered all their questions with the lame-assed, "well, like she said" and pointed to me! ah, nevermind. maybe Sears or Michael's will hire me, but what if they don't.

what if? what if? i am killing myself on the "what ifs."

i want to go home.
i want to go back to where he and i were. but different. i want the financial worries to be gone. i want him to have not had to go out on that last "out of town" trip that took so much out of him. i want to be safe financially. not wealthy. not rich. just safe. i want him to be safe and well. i want to be with him back where we were, haunting the water's edge, scavenging for treasures the ocean tosses up to see if we are paying attention.
i want his hands on my neck and shoulders. see, now that the clock is ticking and it is imperative that i find a job NOW, i work so hard to keep a clean apartment and to get these quilts done and the jeans done. if i am not working on something, if i stop work for the night before 10 PM i feel like i am lazy. i feel terrified that i am failing. and working on any commission work is not bringing me a weekly, or bi-monthly paycheck. i am terrified. i have panic attacks all through the day. it is my second job or i guess i multi-task. sew, send out resumes, fill out job applications, try to breathe.

if he were here we would figure this out together. if he were here i would deeply massage his tired muscles and in turn, he would gently massage my hands. he would deeply massage my neck and shoulders from being hunched over the sewing. if he were here someone would be touching me and i would not feel alone. my children are there and they are adults. thank God. but they are my children and i am supposed to take care of them. at least protect them. how can i protect them from you know who, from life, from everything that money can protect you from without having money? i cannot even take care of myself.
our life was not a fairy tale but it was as close as it could be without the money to feel secure. we loved. we loved each other. we loved where we lived. we loved the people we were getting to know. we loved the storms and the sunshine. we loved the seasons and our walks. we loved being with each other. every day was a blessing and we were working hard to build a future. his deal was falling through but the woman was charged with embezzlement and fraud. she is in prison, but my Dragon did not live to see that justice. he is removed from the pain of that and in a way, i am glad. but then i think about the time he was dying, and i wonder.

was he even cognitively processing? did he know he was dying? was he screaming in a voice no one heard that he could not leave me like this? did he die worried about me? that's when i shatter into a million pieces all over again. i want him to feel like his life was successful. i want him to know i love him and am proud of him. i want him to feel peace. i want him to forget the cruelties of this life and only know peace and relaxation and joy.

i hope Heaven has an ocean for him to be walking beside. and a place like Bearskin Neck. old places where passing time has no meaning.

i have been in a tailspin ever since he died. i am under so much stress, i am so afraid that i cannot grieve at times. i can only miss having him there to comfort me, help me, share with me the trials of life. i can only miss crawling into bed beside him "and all but your presence forget."

i am tired of fighting for a life. i would settle for an existence. i do not need much. my wants are fading with each passing day. dreams are something i write down in long hand in a journal that no one will see. trying to capture and keep hope close is like trying to light a trick candle. it is a cruel and embarrassing joke. i strike the match and the flame catches to the wick, but then it goes out. i keep striking match after match and i am running out of matches, and time. the darkness is coming, a dark so absolute i may as well be at the bottom of the Challenger Deep. it is a place where i will no longer be an artist. i will no longer be me. i will be prey. dramatic? maybe. truth? pretty close.

stress and fear are hindering my grief. i am not grieving. i am crying out for him to come and save me. Bunny's one long, single and only howl. please come back and save me, Dragon. i want to go home.

i need you, my darling, my darling

with it's yearning my very heart aches

the load that divides us weighs harder.

i shrink from the jar that it makes.

old sorrows rise up to beset me

old doubts make my spirit their own

oh, come through the darkness and save me

for i am alone.

sucked down

my digital camera died last night. it is the one that my Dragon bought me before we moved to Rockport. it is the one that took all the photos of my harrowing road trip away from the ocean to move here. it is the one that has kept vigil over the moon. and now it has died and i am sad.

i know it is an object, but it was a link to bDd (before Dragon died). it is as familiar in my hands as a needle and thread, and floss. as familiar as a paintbrush or a pencil, or a woodcutter's tool. i have lost my friend and i am devastated. i have put it on my mantle which has become a shrine of sorts. i even have empty pill bottles with his name on them. my daughter brought over her camera to me this morning on her way to work. bless her.

i have finished the last bag E. wanted. it has passed the Bunny Weight Test. i also put pretty ribbon on it and embroidered the "life is crap" stamp to make it visually appealing.
i hope she likes her bags.

it is after September 1st. after 27 years in New England, i know that Summer is packing up fast to move south. Fall can come early up there and i miss it. this will be my second without seeing those changes. it was pretty here last year, but, i don't know. my heart longs for the coast and all the vines around the driftwood. i long to smell salt air and that snap of cold that makes your skin tingle. the talk of frost on the pumpkins will begin in a few weeks, maybe sooner depending on nature this year. i miss it so much that i feel hollowed out by what has happened and how it came to pass.

memories assail me lately. at moments i feel overwhelmed with them. i feel like i could get sucked under if it do not fight it off and yet the call of these memories is a candle flame to my moth. not all the memories are good ones and i guess it is the residue of having been recently lectured and questioned as to why am i still here. please don't ask me to explain. i wrote it only to quantify the level of self-worthlessness i am made to feel and have to fight against.

one summer when my children were 11 and 9, my father-in-law asked where we were going on our family vacation. my ex told his dad that we did not take vacations as they were a waste of money. his dad scoffed and prodded me, thinking ours was a marriage where i had any say. he was the patriarch and it was only respectful that i answer him. i told him i had always wanted to go to "Cape Cod." i really had always wanted to find a little shack of a vacation beach house to rent north of Orleans so that the children and i could walk along the beach, the eastern arm of the Cape where Henry Beston had spent a year alone. i knew the storms from the Atlantic threw all kinds of wonderful treasures along it. my father-in-law had been and we started conversing about how austere and beautiful it was out there. talking to him was always easy. we were of like mind. but when i turned and saw his face, i knew there would be hell to pay.

we had to go now. instead of letting me make the plans, he did it angrily. he got us a room at a Holiday Inn in Hyannis and every morning he got us up for breakfast, took us to the beach, and then took us back to the room with take out. he stayed on the phone a lot, or brooded. he was pissed at spending the money.

there was this one day of terror where he took my son out too far in the water. there was a storm less than 50 miles offshore and waves were high. flags were flying for dangerous surf and you were allowed to wade up to just above your knees, wherever your knees fell, but no further. he said he hadn't spent money to just wade in the ocean, so he took my son out to make him body surf. the tide was coming in and the waves were building. i told my daughter to sit with our towels and went to pace the edge of the water. i couldn't let him see me be anxious because that meant i was making my son into a mama's boy. i could not defy him but i kept watch.

when i saw them go under i went in after my son. i got to him and treaded water with my knee bent so he could sit on it and catch his breath. i talked to him, told him how to swim back in letting the waves carry him, and then get to his feet at the last minute when the sand was almost scrapping his knees. don't fight it but try to keep his head above the surface. where we were, the water was deep enough that my toes could not touch bottom. my son was strong. i told him to go and that i was right behind and beside him where i could see him. if he faltered, he would be pulled in my direction and i could again give him a rest while i treaded water. i was a strong swimmer. his dad? already on the beach toweling off. he had seen me go in.

i kept my eyes on my son. i saw him catch a crest that i missed and get a pretty good ride actually to shallow water where he got to his feet and ran onto the beach. his sister had his towel waiting. i was still further out and i got sucked down into the draw. i was turned and rolled and slammed hitting my head on the bottom. i saw stars. i swallowed water and it felt so warm inside. i choked and coughed and more water got in since i was still rolling underwater. i fought it rolling to my side and then pushed myself up to try to stand. i was in water just under my armpits. i coughed up the water i had swallowed. my stomach recoiling from the salt and my fear. both my children were standing at the water's edge calling to me. i glanced behind me as another wave was coming in and i caught it. i was drained. i needed the ride. my arms and legs were cold and tired and felt like noodles. as i got closer to the beach i felt a strong hand catch me just above the elbow. the young man who was life guarding that stretch of beach helped me out. my daughter had gone to get him after her brother made it to the beach. the lifeguard saw that i was okay then promptly walked over and wrote a ticket to you know who. yeah, they can do that.

i'm telling this story to help with the metaphor for what i mean when i say i feel like i am being sucked down. i have memories like this day at the beach that suddenly appear like a flashback. but then i have the memories of when i got cut off taking pictures and my Dragon waded in frigid water to get me, laughing, making jokes about "calling in the Marines." there was (is) so much love between us. i have been having nightmares that started the day before the lecture and also dreams that my Dragon never died. i cannot control them. they just come. i try to control what i do after they arrive and cover me, and roll me over and over.

i am trying to get to my feet.

after i got the borders pinned, i did have to fall on it and smell it. it has been almost 19 months since my Dragon wore any of these clothes, yet i know i can smell him. tonight after i stop doing some embroidery i have been commissioned to do, i will walk over and hand sew some of the border down. i will have my quilt. i need it so badly; much like a small child needs to hide under the covers believing in their power to keep the bad things away.

i wish whoever reads, peace.

23 August 2010 ~ full moon

i can close my eyes and see him. i can see him as he walks towards me, that stride of his that ate up the ground.

i can close my eyes and smell his skin. it smelled a little bit of sweat and salt and cool outside air.

it doesn't take much to call up the memories, especially on the night of a full moon.

i can hear his voice, his laugh that was so big and booming, the one that came out of him spontaneously whenever i did something that was a little off the wall. i can also hear his low tones when he and i would just sit and talk, and talk, in the dark, long after we had turned the lights out.

i can close my eyes and taste his lips, feel his soft beard, and his breath. he favored slow kisses. he said when he met me he had become a connoisseur.

i vividly remember what it feels like to hold hands with him, and i can feel the pressure of his arm when it draped across my shoulders. he and i thrived on physical contact. right now, i am starved for it, for his touch. i had turned into a connoisseur of him.

every night when i go to bed and turn off the light, i roll to my side and i almost believe i will see the outline of his shoulders. i think i will be able to turn into him and rest my hand on his chest, over his heart, like i did every night. almost. i almost believe it. if i close my eyes so i an deny where i live now, i definitely can.

i don't really have to close my eyes for my senses to see, feel, hear, taste, or smell him, but i admit it helps to shut out the sight of this place he never lived in.

hello, Moon.

can you see him?

do you even remember him?

i do.

every time you come back

to turn the fullness of your face

on cold me

in this hollow world

i pretend,

that you can pass along a message to him,

that you can tell him for me,

"i see her. she's looking for you. she loves you."

~

hello, Moon.

can he see me?

inside Beach Bunny's head

it’s been 18 months now, plus another week. i still cry a little bit every night during my prayers. even if i sleep i wake up and for the first few minutes, i already feel drained. another day without Dragon. my beautiful, handsome Dragon.

i responded to a comment in the last post. a person complimented my site. she thought it was pretty and “inspiring.” it gave me a little boost in confidence. artists always like it when someone likes what they do. anyway, i responded that here, on this site, i can do whatever i want because i control it all, colors, photos, content, etc. it’s all me. it’s a little glimpse of what it’s like being inside my head and i suddenly remembered an email from my Dragon during one of his little “out of town” trips to save the world; i always called them that. Dragon signal hits the clouds in the night sky and off he’d have to go. actually it was a phone call but it’s part of what goes on inside my head.

he used to be amazed at what i would do or say. do not think i am off on an ego trip. he and my children are the only ones who get amazed at what i do or say. he’d be caught off guard for a moment but then he’d smile and maybe even hug me, kiss the top of my head. “I love living inside your head.”

i got an email through my business website, the renaissanceartist.webs.com site that the link for is over there on the right. this woman loves my photography. that’s the word she used. "Loves." i like that word. my Dragon always loved everything i did. we’d be out somewhere and i’d be taking pictures and he’d say, “What do you see?” i’d laugh a little and say, “you’re looking at it, too.”

“Not the way you do. I can hardly wait to see it again on the computer when you upload your shots. It's inside your head. I love being inside your head.”

i think every devoted couple have a language all their own. they have little things they say that show their attachment, the bond they feel to their spouse. my Dragon's was, "I love living inside your head" and he always called me his "bride." "My lovely bride."

anyway, this woman wants to buy some of my photographs so i have been a little busy setting up a new website for a gallery to display a lot of my photographs. i have to put watermarks across them, which is taking time. the money isn’t huge for my photographs, but it’s something. every little bit helps. i am kinda proud. i used to have prints of my photographs along with my sculptures in a little shop on Bearskin Neck but the lady closed her shop after her husband died out on the ocean in a storm. they never found him. that kind of pain horizons anything i feel, i think, because i can go over to my urn and touch it's coolness. her husband was a lobsterman. and like me now, she went to live near her daughter far away from the ocean. i think she has a different perspective of the ocean than i do. i feel such deep empathy for her. i think that woman from time to time. i wish i knew how to get in touch with her to see how she’s doing. she had faith in my artwork and together, she and i made a little bit of money. i sent an email to one of the Library Ladies so see if she knows how i can find her.

as i leave the fog of shock and devastation of my Dragon’s death, i am remembering more and more details of my former life. bDd. before Dragon's death. memories are swirling around me like the warmth of a fire after coming in from shoveling snow. i like this feeling right now. i liked looking through my photos the last couple of days working to set up my photography website. it has brought me so many memories of being with my Dragon, of being inside his head.

when i got my Cube of Love from my daughter, even though my place is a shrine to my Dragon, i carried it everywhere. i love those photos. they comprise the few of the two of us together. when i walked to the registration desk on Friday of Camp Widow, i saw my Dragon’s Tribute Tile. i wanted it. right then. i wanted to touch it. Saturday night i couldn’t wait a moment longer. i asked Dan if he would go get it for me. he did and he really has no idea how much i thank him for that. a simple act of kindness and yet i was too nervous to do it for myself. i wanted it so badly and he went and got it for me, and i haven’t let it go.....

.....as you can see.

Dragon watches his Bunny start work on a new dragon handkerchief while her

Cube of Love and Dragon Tribute Tile sit close by.

Dragon closely watches his Beach Bunny set up a photo of "Sock" Beach Bunny.

Dragon thinks his Bunny is creative. he can't wait to see what she sees.

"Sock" Beach Bunny with her Cube of Love and Dragon Tribute Tile.

i’ll leave you with this little story of us.

i am a scavenger, or i was when i walked the beaches or climbed the rocks. i would go by myself a couple of times a day while Dragon did his international work ~ computer and phones. i would stack what i wanted to work with in a pile and when he was done, he’d come down to find me and he’d help me haul it all back. well, this one day, i called him and said, “bring the truck.” he laughed.

i had found this great lobster trap that the water hadn’t bashed too badly. it was so heavy. when he got to the beach and saw it, he checked me over. first my boots. nope, they were dry. but my jeans were wet. he huffed and hurried over. yes, i had taken off my boots and socks to wade a little ways into the water to get the trap. my jeans were very wet and i was starting to shiver. and yes, this was after the Great Hypothermia Incident. it was early Spring and the water was still very cold. he didn't get mad but i know he tsk tsk'ed in his head.

lobster traps are heavy and with all the seaweed on this one, it weighed a ton. i had a sack of shells and sand dollars and other stuff, too. he made me sit in the truck with the heater on. he was nice enough to only mutter that i should have waited on him. then he kissed me on the nose and went to throw the trap and all the driftwood and line i had collected in the back of the truck.

i sold the trap after i got it all cleaned up did things to it. i used copper wire and wrapped shells all around it. the door was bent open and my Dragon offered to bend it back for me but instead i made a stuffed blue lobster and put him just inside, claws out, as if he were escaping from the trap. i embroidered a big smile on his face and a “tattoo” that said “mother” inside a heart on the part of him just before the claw. on his tail i embroidered the name i gave him, “Houdini.”

my Dragon laughed when i told him i was surprised it had sold. he said, “Love, it’s just someone else who wants a little bit of what goes on inside your head. But that’s all they can have, because your head is mine and only I get to live there.”

i miss him so much. 18 months feels like 18 years and that's terrible to say. i feel so overwhelmed with sorrow at the thought that i will never hear him say, "This is my lovely bride." i will never hear him say, "I love living inside your head."

but like the photos of Bunny i set up to put with this posting, i believe he hangs out a bit with me. i think he may have gotten inside my head enough to know what i am doing now. i think he wouldn't think i am silly to have pictures of him all over the apartment and yet need to put my Cube of Love and my Dragon Tribute Tile near me when i sew or write, and then take them back into the bedroom every night.

i very much miss him. he is everything to me. but i do have good company in my two little Scotties. they are my constant companions. they watch me sew, write, cook, take a shower, watch Survivorman marathons, and they sleep beside me every night.

Bunny and her Babies.

all i need is for them to cooperate and give me time to set up Dragon on the sofa behind us.

sigh. in a perfect world.

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.

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.