today is February 9th. at this exact moment, 4 years ago, he had
already died. 12:03 AM. just after midnight and my life changed.
four
years later i still grieve for him. but is that the correct word? by
definition, grief means "suffering deep mental anguish due to
bereavement." am i suffering deep mental anguish? not as much physical
pain nor as much mental confusion as i once had, so i guess grief is the
wrong word. but what word can i use that everyone would know?
recognize? understand? melancholia? the only word that fits what i feel
is grief.
i miss him. i miss where we lived. where i am is
okay. i provide for myself and get by; barely. life is hard. i am
lonely, but i am lonely only for him, still, even after 4 years. i
cannot bring myself to take off my wedding rings. i panic when i try so i
acknowledge i am not ready for that step. when anyone asks, "what about
dating?" i cringe. the thought of doing that, of interacting on a
personal level with someone who might think of me "that way," it makes
me hyperventilate. i am not ready. i know of others who went out and
search, found other partners 3 years after, 2 years, and even remarried
before the 1 year anniversary of the death of their loved one. i have
not been moved towards anything like that.
in thinking of where i
was at this moment 4 years ago i have questions that still haunt me.
could i have saved him? was my CPR performed so badly that it was all my
fault? if an EMT had been standing over him the moment it happened,
could he have been saved?
what were my two children thinking
during this long day that they were on airplanes, waiting at terminals
during layovers trying to get to me? i have not asked them and have not
ever thought of doing so until just this moment. see what turning the
microscope inwards does for you?
what have i done with my life
in these 4 years? i work at a toy store. i build bears and bunnies and
dogs and cats, etc. i make people happy. i live in a tiny apartment
whose rent is entirely too much for the space. i take care of myself as
best as i can and i live with my two Scotties, Carmen Sophia the wild
gypsy girl with the sensitive soul and Scootie Wootums Lord of the Dance
with the stardust eyes. we hang out when i am here and cuddle a lot. i
still sew memory quilts for others but i am cutting back. time is
precious and i have precious little of it working a 40 + hour week.
what
have i done with myself these last 4 years? i have struggled alone with
my grief. i write here and on a grief blog. i check back to see if
anyone has commented. beyond that i have no one to speak to about this
pain. i have not been fortunate enough to pay for counseling so me and
Grief? we are on very intimate terms. i talk to her. she rides with me
to and from work. i eat with her. i sleep with her, a lot, probably
still too much on my days off. we are sisters, soul mates. i have no
idea how long she will stay but at least she is here with me while i,
ah, grieve. i tell her i miss him and she understands. she knows. she is
grief. i tell her i wish i could talk to him one more time and she
crushes my heart in her embrace. i tell her i wish i could see him again
and she expresses her wistfulness with me, our sighs blending in
harmony, a song played out along the minor scale.
it has crossed
my mind, very late at night when i am exhausted and worried out of my
mind, that if she were to ever leave, i would truly be alone.
i am
surviving but i am flat on my back. i keep track of everything, take
stock in myself, my inner reserves. i try to keep a positive attitude
yet allow myself to crumble every now and then. i am flat on my back at
year 4, still laying here where his death has dumped me. but i am
looking up at the sky, the oh, so beautiful sky, and i acknowledge that
it is worth seeing. i am still here. i am still struggling but i am only
human. i am a woman, a widow, and it has been 4 years. today.
so
this little posting is simply me reaching out, touching base with the
universe as it were, letting it know i am still out here. now, i must
go. it is getting close to suppertime and my sister, Grief, is waiting
to eat with me.
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.
5 comments:
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Today is 10th February 2013,mid morning in Dublin,Ireland.By some strange twist of fate I have come across your beautiful thoughts and writings about your dear lost Dragon and your own survival since then.
My husband died in 2008 and today would have been his 69th birthday. This day 5 years ago we were on Easter Island in the south Pacific on an amazing cruise around the world on QE2.It was the ship's last world cruise and was called 'Farewell World'.I had no idea that my husband of 36 years was then terminally ill with lung cancer and would be gone within 5 months.
I have children and granchildren but I am lost and grieving and sort of rudderless.
I am filled with admiration for your many talents, the quilt idea is just awesome!
Today was shaping up to be another lonely day, filled with 'what if's', but coming across your writings has lifted my spirits.
You are an insiration and a wonderful woman. Thank you.
Kay
I will never take off the beautiful ring Fred put on my left hand--I tried, for a week--it made me feel more lonely and sick to my stomach.I crash and crumble every now and then too. I suppose we always will? I just try so hard not to think about it--in denial--that's the way I cope I guess. No--you could not have saved him--it was instantaneous. Fred was in a hospital room with 2 doctors and 3 nurses, he was feeling quite well and then it happened. Then the crash cart came with the resuscitation experts and they couldn't save him. It just is as it is. We get by the best we can. We KNOW one day--one sweet day, we will be with them again!!!
Sending a hug to you...
I have read your blog for a few months already. I have not been in your shoes but I feel your sorrow. I pray for you as well as other widow blogs I have read. My good friend lost her husband 7 months ago in a horrific car accident. I started reading blogs such as yours to try to get insight as to how to talk to her, how to somewhat understand her feelings. So, thank you for being there to help even though you may not even know it. Your words are helping others! I pray that you find the job(s) that you search for and that God wraps you so tighly in His arms. You will be together one day! And that day will be so amazing. Many blessings ..
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