Easter

it's almost Easter.

my grief has been with me for 6 years now.

i don't know if i can call it grief.

i am not in deep grief.  it has been 6 years.

but i miss him and i call myself widow, not single.

i wear my wedding rings.

is what i feel grief? or have i moved on?

i haven't moved on from him but i have moved on with my life.

i'm not stagnant. i work.  i consider my needs.  i think about my family.

i make plans.  i hope for things like a nice vacation,

pain control of my foot and my arm.

but it is Spring.

it is Easter, almost.

it is a time to reflect and rejoice.

i have so much to be grateful for.

i have these guys.  my roomies.

i love my Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums.

we cuddle, walk, talk; we live together, truly live our lives.

we dance and laugh and watch tv. they wait for me when i am at work and rush home to them.

i love them so very much.

i have my son who is so wonderful.  i am so proud of him.

he has a great job and would do anything for me.

he helped me buy my car.  he got me my new fancy phone.

he calls me once or twice a week.

most of all that is so important to me,

he confides in me.  he tells me things.

he treats me like his mom and not his aging mother.

i love him so very much.

i have these two.  my daughter and grandson.

they bring such joy to my life.

my daughter and i talk 2 - 3 times a day during my work days.

on my days off, we talk more than that.

and i go see her and help her out.

we play with Finn.  we talk and talk as women will do.

she worries about me and i worry about her.

we are kindred spirits 

as well as mother and daughter.

and i have my Sanctuary.

a place of my own.

a place i have made my own.

a place i retreat to and feel safe.

i miss him.  i talk to him.  i talk about him.

am i still grieving?

i truly have no idea what to call it.

i know i have so much to be happy about.

do i wish he were here to be a part of it?

yes.

am i over his death?

i am over the fear and shock.

but i am not over him not being here.

do i deal with it in a healthy way.

i don't know what someone would call this, but this works for me.

i wish everyone a happy Spring.

i wish those who believe a happy Easter.

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

in the company of loneliness

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

looking down into my foyer.  the hanging on the door to the right blocks the window that looks into the garage.

 still working on it, most of my boxes are unpacked and most of the painting is done.

 i do have almost all my beloved books out in places....like here

 and the stairwell.

 these photos are a couple of weeks old and more has been done...

 but i haven't posted in a while and wanted to let any readers who may still be out there that

i am still here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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