"every true story ends in death." ~ ernest hemingway
grief is so very different for everyone. it is also a very private affair.
it's an affair of the heart and only the person going through it knows how deep the pain goes.
he meant the world to me. he means the world to me.
i admit i find secret comfort in widow(er)s both fictitious and real who have not moved on,
who have kept their sorrow inside and simply lived on with the memories.
there was a short-lived television show titled "10 things i hate about you." in it the father character is aggressively, and unsuccessfully, seduced by a divorced woman. he tells her he is not ready to date; that he is a recent widow. the woman extends her sympathy and asks him how long it's been.
"7 years."
i loved that. his face. his expression. the soft, lingering love for his dead wife. he was still wearing his wedding ring.
or Jessica Fletcher of the television show "Murder, She Wrote." she never dated nor married again. she had a full life writing her novels, welcoming company to her home, and solving murders all over the globe.
and Betty White. she has been his widow for 34 years. she's having fun with her acting and her animal charities, yet when she was on Inside the Actor's Studio and she was asked that last question, her answer was so very poignant.
"If heaven exists, what would you want God to say at the pearly gates?"
Betty said, "come on in, Betty. here's Allen."
i've been told to never say never; that i do not know what's around the bend.
but .....
it's been 5 years and i still feel the same about him.
i will love him forever.
i think this is one of those long, slow goodbyes.
he was so much fun
and he gave me so much.
and he gave me so much.
laughter and joy,
confidence and love,
and the ocean.
he took me to live beside the ocean.
and the ocean.
he took me to live beside the ocean.
we talked and shared.
we were a true meeting of the minds.
i love him. he is so dear to me.
a long, slow goodbye.
i think of him quite a lot.
i do still dream of him.
my memories of him are so vivid.
i can hear his voice.
i can hear his laugh.
i feel this deep and abiding connection to him.
i think of him quite a lot.
i do still dream of him.
my memories of him are so vivid.
i can hear his voice.
i can hear his laugh.
i feel this deep and abiding connection to him.
it is my most fervent hope and wish that i will be with him when i die.
a long, slow goodbye.
my memories keep me company.
and as i will one day die,
know that this is a true story.
a long, slow goodbye.
my memories keep me company.
and as i will one day die,
know that this is a true story.
i leave you with the words of a fictitious widow ~ Jessica Fletcher.
"i won't tell you that the hurt will disappear.
it doesn't,
but sooner or later it becomes different.
the pain subsides and the memories take over.
it isn't wonderful,
but it's better."
2 comments:
My Grandmother was widowed at 48--she never married again and she had a good life. The bad marriage(s) I had and a few bad relationships--when Fred came along and gave me real love and acceptance, unconditionally--I have no desire to date again. I want to keep the memory of our wonderful relationship in my mind until I died. Any other relationship would just ruin that memory. It's whatever you want to do--some people grieve actively for a long time and some, just grieve to themselves. One thing we all have in common, it HAS changed our lives and our viewpoints forever.
Just after reading your post, I read a story in the Daily Mail about a grieving widower of 86 who makes a 100 mile round trip every month to leave flowers at the bus stop in Cardiff where he met his wife 64 years ago. It is in today's paper, here in England if you want to read it, I think it would resonate with you. Google Daily Mail and you will see it, or google "Grieving widower, Bianca London, Daily Mail." Heartbreaking but so damned sweet. Best wishes, a reader in England x
Post a Comment