how did i get here?

my husband, my beautiful Dragon, died suddenly at 12:03 AM on 9 February 2009. there was a cold, lovely full moon and 3 feet of snow on the ground. i "slept" for the following 10 months and "woke" to the physical and emotional pain and torments of deep grief. i "woke" to find i had moved the day of his funeral and that i am lost. i am looking for me while i figure out the abstract, unanswerable questions that follow behind any death. my art has evolved. his death changed that as well because i am forever changed and will forever bear the mark of losing the only man i can ever love.
there is alive and there is dead and there is a place in between. i am here wholly in my heart for my children, but i feel empty inside at this time. i miss him. i have not gotten very far in my grief journey. i make no apologies for this.
this is my place, my blog, where i write to tell the universe that i am still here.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

soul mates
















i didn't cry today. not yet anyway. that's not progress. i was with my daughter and her future mother-in-law and we were out in public. wedding stuff. i did feel heaviness in my heart with each smile that i knew wasn't reflected in my eyes. it's getting closer to her wedding day. all the different human variables are moving into place. i will enjoy the day while i work to make sure everything follows my daughter's plans. i am the photographer so i will be moving about, being able to keep the camera in front of my face, hiding. i will be so busy that it will happen and i won't have time to face that he is not here. not until that night after it's over.

he is my soul mate. if i haven't said it or made it clear, let me say it now. he is my only mate. i do not see how, at this point in my life, where anyone can reclaim any part of me. i will be honest. i am 51. i am tired. i know the odds of finding a soul mate, a true partner that claims every part of you is rare. and now that i have him, i cannot believe i have to face the rest of my life without him. i never understood the full definition of a soul mate until i met him and i cannot believe i was allowed to have him come into my life. i've never been blessed with an honor that bold or profound. my children are gifts from God. my Dragon. i have no idea how or why i was allowed to be found by him.

and to see him die and work so hard to save him, to do CPR and call to him, to race to open the door for the EMT's and then be useless, not be allowed near him to whisper to him. gut-wrenching. did he ever open his eyes with awareness of this world and look for me? did he call for me and i wasn't allowed in there to respond to him? they took him into a room and i was left alone in another.

and then he was gone.

i've never been blessed with any honor as profound as having him in my life. the fact that i lost him reinforces the fact that i will never have an easy life. but i had him. for a little while, i had all i could ever want. we heard music only we two could hear. we had a short-hand way of communicating. side glances. secret smiles. no one knew what we heard, maybe only a faint echo played as we walked by, but i think people were aware that we were an inseparable pair. the music was ours and belonged only to us. now all i have are memories and dreams. it's not that i want it again. no one can take even a small place in my heart. it's that i once held all i could ever want and then had to watch it slip away. i want to be with him again. i miss him. the loneliness i feel cannot be fixed with someone else. it can only be erased by him.

to continue to use the ocean and water metaphors and analogies, i'm still moving through heavy, dark waters. the skies are sullen and it's almost dusk. i'm tired and feel like, for now, at least until the wedding is over, that i've put my oars down and i'm letting myself drift. i know that means i'm not following any real direction. i'm being taken whichever way the wind and current takes me. i'm lost in grief but i think it's alright to allow yourself to be lost.

one does not have to accomplish something on the "grief journey" every day. i think some of us don't have a destination. after a soul mate dies, i think a destination gets set aside for quite some time. it has for me. i just want to get through each lonely moment as it hits me, however hard or soft it hits me. it really is just living one day at a time. looking too far into a future without him is not something i can do, not something i believe i will ever do.

he is my soul mate. to be without him is entirely too painful and the only way to heal would be to be with him again. and right now, that is not available to me.

4 comments:

twinmom said...

(HUG)

Split-Second Single Father said...

So much of what you have written here rings true for me, even down to the helplessness when our spouses passed, only mine was in the hospital instead of at home. And even though it has been a bit longer for me and I am a bit younger than you, it is difficult to think of someone else ever coming into my life again in that capacity. Many people think they have soul mates, but very few truly do. You and I were blessed to be among the few, if but only for a few short moments.

abandonedsouls said...

hello, twinmom. thanks for the hub.

SS Single Father, in your grief, i hope you can center around the fact that you knew what you had, still have for she and you are not erased because she had to go somewhere else. i think that being pushed back into a relationship by family or friends must be one of the most obvious and frustrating aspects of being a widower/widow. in this one thing i think being as alone can be put on the pro side of the list. no fix-ups. no "oh this is my sister from out of state or my friend who is recently divorced."

i read your widower's dance blog. i'll tell you i'm sorry as soon as i stop chuckling. you and

you and i were one of the few. we were blessed.

Debbie said...

Once again your post rings so true for me. I also feel that only my husband returning could heal this hole in my soul that was created when he died. No one else could possibly reach the part of me that he did, the part that was completed when I met him. And yet the thought of carrying this open wound for the rest of my life, however long that is, is too overwhelming to think about. I completely relate to your metaphor of being adrift, going wherever the wind takes you. Even on days when I have things that have to be accomplished, my soul is still adrift.

Wishing you a ray of sunlight on your dark sea. I look forward to talking to you on Sunday.

Debbie

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