dreams of renewal

my mind is turning more and more inward. i just had two days off in a row. two days of staying here in the apartment working on a widow's quilt for one of her sons. two days of no talking to anyone but my daughter when she called once a day. otherwise i did not speak at all.

i find it easy to not speak. should that bother me? or should i be grateful that being so utterly alone is easy, and always has been? i've always turned inward to escape my life. mother, father, brother ~ check. first husband and the out-laws ~ check. widowhood ~ check. inward i go and i fantasize. i write in my head and carry it forth to the computer.

i've written 3 novels, over 600 pages each. so different in genre and yet, not really in vein. one is about a woman who escapes from abuse. one is about a woman who gets murdered before she can be saved. one is about Hell. they are all written from my soul and my observations of people, and from my misery. i write to expunge the poison. i write to vent. i write to free myself.

"It is an interesting biological fact that all of us have in our veins the exact same percentage of salt in our blood that exists in the ocean, and therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in our tears.

We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea--whether it is to sail or to watch it--

we are going back from whence we came."
- John F. Kennedy

i dream of being renewed. i dream of a home by the ocean. i dream of salt water and gulls, of sand and driftwood, and shells. i dream of sleeping a rest-filled sleep with dreams that do not haunt me once i awaken.
i dream of kinder mornings where i can walk on sand and feel water swirl around my ankles, where i look down at shells and small crabs scurrying, and out at infinity.
i dream of sunrises and sunsets that warm my home with their light and promise of days that do not hurt, that do not have stress or worry in them. i dream of looking out at the water from every window and every door.
i dream of rebuilding myself one shingle at a time, one porch, and one window. if i could live by the ocean in a home, a real and true home that i own and no one can take it away from me, i think i could do this widow thing.
i think if i were home, i could find myself again and then start to heal. until then, i am a lost and abandonedsoul searching for peace, searching for a way to stand up for herself, searching for the water she no longer sees. not even off on the horizon.

i feel childish in writing this but i wish for things i cannot have or cannot find. i wish for a different life. i wish i lived beside the ocean in a little house, a real home that is mine. i wish for a small group of friends who have known me, known the "us" i used to be. i wish for a past that doesn't haunt and hurt and i wish for a future that is safer, more calm, more peaceful. all these things i find inside myself though. i daydream, and night dream. i know they will never be true in a physical sense, but i can live in my dreams.

what would he say to me if he could see me now? what would he think of this body whose carriage is strikingly weary looking? what would he think of eyes that cry over harsh words and being ignored or dumped? what would he do if he saw me laying on a bed that is sometimes without sheets or pillowcases because i am too tired to pull them out of the dryer? what would he say to me as i research what to eat, count pennies, and struggle to smile a fake smile? would he cry? would he offer comfort? would he turn and abandon me too, because i no longer look like the me he knew. i look like the old me from when i was ruled by tyrants. i look like a far older, more exhausted version of that old me when i had nothing and no one to save me, to comfort me, to reach out to or work for.

oh, my heavens, and in saying that, did i just admit that i am not worth me saving me? must contemplate that.

i wish anyone who reads this, peace and this nugget of truth. try to always be kind. you never know what kind of anguish or how deep it runs that someone may be hiding.

never thought......

i never thought i'd feel this ill,

i never thought i'd be this tired,

i never thought i'd need you so

that you could not be with me.

i never thought i feel this misplaced

in a world i no longer know;

i never thought i'd be this weary

and not have you to hold me.

i never thought i'd be this old this young.

i never thought i'd be this young

and have to live without you.

i never thought you'd have to go.

we promised each other our whole lives

but "our" life ended too soon.

i'm ill and weary, lonely for you,

and there is nothing i can do.

friend request ~ denied

There is a commercial for gum that uses that phrase: friend request ~ accepted; friend request ~ denied.

It is no secret that I am in a situation of being utterly alone due to the way life worked out for me. The only chance for getting to know anyone has been through the widow’s group.

It’s hard being the odd man, or woman, out. People have lives here. They have friends from work, church, neighborhood, from lives spent living here and the opportunities they had to develop friendships. They are busy with children, work, grief, extended family, finding new loves, etc. I am new and I have no car to go to church, to join any other group, to go to see anyone when possibly something gets planned. I have to depend on my daughter for a ride or the generosity of others.

I don’t know if my grief is worse for not getting to sit with someone face to face to tell my story, to talk about my Dragon, to feel someone in the room who sympathizes, to have someone simply hold my hand or pat me on the back when I can’t stop crying.

I took one woman's advice from the group and walked to another widow's group meeting. I have tried to find friends there, people to meet to connect with. It has been anything but easy. And after today's phone call, I am not walking down there again. I am too tired. Come what may, I am just spent working this hard to find someone to try to become friends with.

There was one woman who started out being pretty good. I called her only once when in need of someone to talk to about my Dragon and my grief. She was busy at the time but she did call back a few days later to check on me. I didn’t call again, but I have to admit I’ve emailed about four times since I met her a few months ago. Not over the top harassment. But maybe it was too much for her. Maybe it was too needy. The last time she called me she explained she was very busy with her children and the new man in her life. She is starting a new chapter with a new love and I represent grief. She told me I frighten her by my being so alone. What if it happened to her? She has not been alone, she said, telling me that she has surrounded herself with her family and friends and has not spent one single night alone in all the few years since her husband has been gone. She does not understand how I can stand it. She feels “creepy” talking to me. It felt creepy hearing that.

I do it because I have no choice. I kept my voice even and kind when I told her she was blessed with so many friends and so much family. I told her it was okay, that I understood her change of heart, what she termed as her “discomfort” in talking to me. What else could I say? I can’t force someone to become a friend.

There has been another woman who called and called and then fell silent. I called her once and she was very excited about getting together, very determined and exacting with her plans for us, day, time, but she stood me up. I called her the next day to check to make sure she was all right. She was. A friend had called and wanted to go to the beach. It had sounded like more fun. She loves the beach. I told her I did to, that I very much understood the pull of the ocean. She made another plan to call. She hasn’t called. I haven’t tried calling her. It would be hard to hear her excitement for us to get together, and then wait for the phone to ring and it doesn’t.

One other woman. She has contacted me because she feels that I shouldn’t be alone. She thinks it’s very sad. She had had so many friends around her when her husband died. She knows the comfort of telling someone your story. She wants to hear mine. She wants to know about my Dragon, “whatever you want to talk about.” She was very verbose and eloquent in her emails back and forth setting up our lunch meeting. She’s planning on coming to pick me up and take me to a fabric store she knows about. She first wants to come up to see all that I’m working on personally. She loves creative people. She also loves my photographs.

She called today and spoke of my bringing my camera to take photos of her garden. She’d like to see what I “come up with.” I, of course, acquiesced. She’s coming to get me, after all. It’s not a problem. I love taking photos. Then she hesitated and said, “Of course I’m very busy so I know you of all people will understand if I need to cancel at the last minute. We can always set up the session in the garden for another time. Of course, I’ll still provide lunch. Then we can talk. Besides,” she continued, “fall is a beautiful time with the leaves changing colors.” She knows I’ll do a good job.

Our luncheon had become a session. I might be misunderstanding her wording but I’m guessing this isn’t about friendship so much as a photo session.

I sighed. I said, “Not a problem. I’m always here. Working. You can reach me anytime.”

She told me she knew that, that that was why she had felt so lucky to have met me and seen my photographs. She likes my style. Then she thanked me and rang off.

To the empty air, I said, “Not a problem. I’m always here. Working. You can reach me anytime.”

No one has to tell me that I need to cut these women slack. I know that they are dealing with their grief. For them it ranges from 3 years grieving to over 5 years. They are doing the best that they can with their feelings, wishes, desires, just the getting through each day without their spouses, and with the one, adjusting her family and friends to her new love. But why take me only so far and then drop me? If they cannot do it, do not feel any connection, why call me? And for the one, why tell me I am creepy because I am forced to live a very solitary life? It hurt to hear that. I know, more than any of them, what my life has become. Creepy is a very descriptive word.

I need to try to shake that word. If my Dragon knew about this, you would have heard his roar. He always tried to protect me, and if he couldn't, he was always there for me to crawl to and be comforted. Now I just talk to him but I can't hear his reply.

I love the ocean. I love Fall. I love Winter. I love my Dragon. Oh, how I miss him. All he wanted from me was love. And my eccentricities were never a problem for him. He was always there. He always wanted to be.