there it is. just one line up from these words. i keep dreaming of it. looking at photos of it. my world. my home. where i walked with him. where i was happy. where i had a smidgen of peace.
the most beautiful place on earth, as far as i know. which is not much. i have been very few places. can count them on one hand. i have never had the chance to travel. but i got to live here. Whale Cove. Rockport, MA. so raw and austere. so windy. so cold in the winters. so powerfully alive in the summers.
i miss it. i dream of it. i fantasize of it. all with him there.
i had a nightmare last night. horrendous. i will not sully your sensibilities with the story line. suffice to say, it was heartbreaking, blood-curdling, and one that i could not return to sleep from.
and i had no one to tell. no one i would call to tell of this dream to. i know a woman who has said i can call her. i do not. it is my fears that keep me from doing this. my fault. mea culpa. i think it stems from the fact that i keep watching people walk away from me very easily.
they are busy. they are bored. they have nothing they want from me at that time. or worse, they do not want anything more from me again because i have done all that they have asked. like a tramp i have quickly given to them all they asked for hoping they would like me.
my life has never made enough of an impression for anyone to stick by me.......except him.
i am an anachronism. i think i am a widow from the old days. i am obviously alone. obviously sad. obviously still so very much in love with my Dragon. so very much in pain. 2 1/2 years out and i still suffer so. no desires in the nether regions ~ except for missing his touch. no desires for companionship except from maybe a friend who does not want anything from me; who would listen to me talk for once.
i miss my grief friend to whom i wrote. bless her heart. her life has taken a turn for the worse so i feel terrible missing her for my own benefit, for me to be able to talk to someone. too many times i've tried to talk, to find someone to listen, but no one lasts. no one stays. no one, well, just no one for me.
i am an anachronism. the world and society and expectations of widows make me what? ashamed of myself? not really worried about myself. i just see that i am out of step. i am on my own very, very different path. i have no money. we were living to pay off debt from my divorce. i got nothing. no, that's wrong. i got my children. we gave them college. i had my Dragon and he had me.
i fell hard when he died. for many months i lay there looking up at the sky, the clouds; laying on that ground feeling each and every rock digging into my back. but i was so numb to it. i had lost my Dragon. my beloved. the only man i will ever want.
i remember a widow from that first group i met at that church. "how can you live alone? i moved into my parents' house, fortunately they live down the street, the day of the funeral. lived there for the first 18 months until i started dating again, and now i'm getting married and will move back into my house with my kids and my new husband. how can you live alone? you should date. you need to find another man so you aren't alone."
an anachronism. widows that i remember from my childhood were alone. they seldom dated again unless they were really young. really young. but my age? they were married to their dead husband's for life. no one questioned them. no one told them to get up, get back out there, and not be alone.
"date. have sex. get married again." i can't. not yet? probably never. he is it for me.
an anachronism. i remember widows who cried occasionally at church. even after years of widowhood. their other widowed friends gathered them into their arms and comforted them. no one told them they were being ridiculous. no one told them they needed to get over it. there were the nods from others who were so sympathetic to their losses. "bless her heart. they were such a lovely couple. so devoted." "bless her heart. we should send her flowers. we should invite her out to the cafeteria some afternoon for an early supper." "bless her heart."
i wish people would think of me that way. bless my heart. bless my poor, aching heart. i miss him. we were a lovely, devoted couple. bless my heart. my handsome Dragon and his odd little Bunny of a wife. such a lovely couple.
i do things. i am living a little, doing more than merely existing. i work very, very hard. i give of myself to everyone. too much of myself. i bend over backwards and lay down and let people walk on me, and then past me, and then far away from me. i struggle up and all i see is their backs, getting smaller and smaller. and then they are out of sight.
if you had known me with him, and then saw me now, you would not recognize me. i am smaller somehow. i am quieter. and that is a shocking statement as i was very quiet before. but not with him. never with him. he wouldn't let me. unless i was writing, or painting, or making stained glass, or sewing, or taking photos......you get the idea. he would not let me be afraid to speak. gently, oh, so gently, he encouraged me to talk. how? by asking questions. he'd ask. he'd engage me in conversation. never was i allowed to talk as i was with him. never have i been allowed to talk since, not as i got to do with him.
i miss him. a darkness has fallen around my life that i am getting used to. quiet life. rise and then work. and then bed. talk at the store. do not talk back at the apartment. very quiet Bunny. you only think of her as gregarious because she is such a wordsmith.
my life, i think, will be spent living on the edge of this dusk looking back at the light that was in my life when he was alive. but i am closer to the darkness than he ever allowed have happen to me. ever in his arms, i was safe; in the light; in the warmth of his love and devotion.
i am an anachronism. if widow's weeds were still worn, i would be wearing them, still, after 2 1/2 years. it's just now, people would be disgusted. not like they were before, during the dark ages, back when i was a child. that was a time when people seemed to, if they did not understand that kind of loss yet, they were still very much more forgiving of widows and their tears, and their particular kind of grief.
i miss you, Dragon. i still cry for you. i still love you. i always will because i am a widow out of step with this world. and i really do not give a flying fuck about doing anything about it.
i had always sort of wanted to wander around this place, inside as well as out. it is an old place that had its exterior done over after a huge storm one season. but i have seen photos of its insides. just a few, in the basement of the Rockport Library where the historical documents are kept. it has its secrets. i always wanted the chance to explore this place on my own. now i only dream about it.
