i dream in color

this is me at 4 months out.  soft little face.  yet so scared. 

 

this is me 3 and a half years out.

see that furry face?  little bit more careworn.

see those eyes?  "so much pain my dazzled eyes refused to see."

reality hits me ~ again and again and again.........

it's hard doing this sort of alone.  i'm not alone alone.  i have my two children.  i do hold close to my broken spirit every comment written here.  but i am still thinking it might be a good idea to try again to find someone to talk to.  you know, try again for a grief counselor.  but what would she say to me?

"girl, it's been 3 years and you're just now getting around to finding some help with this?"

i'd have to say, "ma'am, it's bee 3 plus years of searching for someone who will effing listen to me and not bleed me dry of something i have, something i can do.  to simply do the job of a grief counselor and not let me down.  please, just listen to me.

i don't know if i'll ever have that.  looking into the money aspect of it.

i seem to whine a lot, but this blog is my only outlet to whine. otherwise i keep it inside.  i have to do the "primal scream" thing to get some of it out.  here, i can.  i'm so closed off from the world.  i do not reveal anything to anyone who knows me simply because they are not friends.  the only people i know are the people i work with.

i try to help myself.  i look to my dogs for the way to enjoy life.  

 like Scootie Wootums enjoying sniffing all the sniffs that cram into his nose while his head is stuck out the window. 

 i dream/create fantasies of a different life.  my happy place.  my serene calm place where i am not here.  i am somewhere else, with him, my children, all together truly living each day and reveling in all that the world has.

 i remember all the places i did live where i felt home.  i developed an attachment to a place and will never forget living there.  i can go there in my mind and breathe.

 i am so much more fragile than i ever was.  is it age?  or grief?  is it feeling so vulnerable, or so adrift?  and yet, i feel surges of strength when i am threatened.

"how dare you try and hurt me?"  "how dare you try and take what little i have left?"

i dream in color.  my things are old and solid and loyal and enduring.

i dream in color.   i value and respect the things that last like love and memories.

i dream in color.  i do not seek more material possessions but only add things like books {words}, moments of calmness, and the continued search for peace in this life.

i may see things in black and white; facing the reality that life shoves down my throat day-after-day,

but i dream in color.

the inconstant moon of my life

O swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.  

i will swear by the moon though it is inconstant.

it is my lifelong companion now and means so much to me.

i watch it as it seems to watch me.

as God does not answer me, neither does my moon.

my "inconstant moon" is one that is forever a fixture in my heart and mind.

waiting for it to be full, i worry about cloud cover and yet,

and yet, the clouds provide such a sight if they move with the wild abandon of a fearless night.

but my nights are both welcomed and feared for dreams or lack of rest.

the double-edged sword of getting the sleep i need against the dreams that might come

versus the lack of rest i need to hold the demons of insomnia at bay.

i love the moon.  i hate what it reminds me of.

but it is the only thing in my life that allows me to speak about him.

it is the only thing in my life that offers no advice, only keeps vigil with me for the countdown of my life.

i need him, still.

i wish he were here, still.

i miss him, still.

i always will, i think.

i was asked when would i take off my rings, allow the world to see me as a single woman.

i said, "but i am not single in my heart.  rings off, rings on, my heart is taken,

so i might as well keep the wall up that the rings represent until such time as he leaves me from there, too."

the way i feel at this time, it would hurt me more to force myself to live and think of myself

as a single woman, than to let my memories of him haunt me as they do.

so the moon and i continue our vigil over each other.

and when i am very old and frail,

i will carefully, slowly, ease my weariness and aches outside each night of the full moon

so i can gaze upwards and pine for,

speak to,

weep for what i cannot ever have again in this life.

and in my elderly befuddled mind,

i will call out to him and hope my beautiful, fierce Dragon,

who is curled up on the dark side of the moon,

will peer around its cold, silver-whiteness to gaze back down at me.

home to the puzzle box ~ my grief at 3 years 3 months

first off, don't be startled with the first "song."  it really is what you're hearing.  i found a fog horn.  keep reading.  it has meaning.

i'm ahead of myself.  it won't be 3 years, 3 months until tomorrow night at midnight, but i have a bit of time this afternoon, taking a break from embroidery work, and i wanted to get my thoughts down.

at this point in my life, i sincerely believe what i wrote up there in gold under my main photo.  i had once thought of my whole life as a journey.  i was arrogant, and so very wrong.  it was simply my life.  now that my Dragon has died, i am truly on a journey.  grief, dealing with his death and all the questions, guilt, and fears that came with it; this is my journey.

in the days and weeks that followed his death i used to ask myself, why did we only get 8 years?  why had all the terrors of my life lead me to the warmth of his love, only to take it away after so short a time?  i told myself, i have convinced myself, that his death was predestined and that his guardian angel was not going to let him die alone.  after the life he lead, the missions he went on as a Marine, all the times he must have wondered, "will i die out here and nobody come claim my body," all the times he came home wounded, the fears he must have had, he died with me holding him, giving him CPR, talking to him, soothing him, telling him he was so very dearly loved.

and it is me left to deal with what's left all alone.

i read once that "death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship, which struggles on in the survivor's mind towards some resolution which it may never find."  in my experience that is true.  my relationship with my husband has not ended.  i still wear my wedding rings.  at this point, i most likely always will.  i cannot take them off without feeling claustrophobic.

i do have my memories of him, of where we walked, of our little place by the ocean, up in the cove.  there was  a small gate off our property that we walked through to get to the beach.

 we had to walk through our gate and across the top of the ridge to get down to the beach because we were set up a bit high.

this view is from the back yard, looking southeast towards Thatcher light.

and this is from the edge of our backyard looking east northeast toward what i always called, my island.

this the view looking out from the den toward "my island" that i saw everyday.  we'd hear the fog horn sound sometimes, especially at night, and know that lonely sound was reaching out to any mariner who was still out there trying to find their way home.  we'd listen to the wind rattle the windows.

i took this set of three photos the day before one Thanksgiving.  a nor'easter was expected that night with high winds.  i loved those nights.

he and i would lay together upstairs in our small bedroom under the eves and snuggle.  we'd hear the ice hit the glass behind our headboard.

i hold onto those memories when i drive the now half hour to work and all i see is concrete and red earth and traffic.  i humbly thank God for my job that pays my way to survive, but when i am back at the apartment with my little Carmen Sophia and my dashing Scootie Wootums, i remember when i could walk them on the beach.  i remember when we would sit and laugh at them bite at the water rushing the sand and rocks.

i remember feeling the sunshine on my skin and the wind in my hair.  i remember the smell of salt and the sound of gulls and water.

oh, and that Thanksgiving morning?  we woke to this.

i miss him terribly.  i miss him and still sometimes cry.  i miss him in songs i hear.  i wish i could tell him things.

i talked to a widow i know who lives across the Pond in Europe, and she agreed with me.  she and i will probably never look for another man.  she is two months longer into her widow journey than i so we are at the same place time-wise, and seem to be at the same place emotionally.

we miss them.  we are doing what we can to make this journey tolerable.  she in her way.  me in mine.

i look for peace.  i try to create it when i cannot find it.  and i tell myself that i'm doing alright when what i feel is sort of the opposite.  i am lonely, but not for anyone but him.  only he will do.  i look at myself and say, "you're out of the box."  we were a puzzle that had two pieces.  he is back in the box.  i am still out here in the world struggling to make sense of what's left.  he got to where he was supposed to be, but it was much too soon for me.  he left me behind.  our timelines were off.

in every life there comes a journey.  maybe we think we choose it, but i don't think so.  i think it chooses us.  i am what i am making of myself with what life has left me with, which, compared to what i had, isn't much.  well, it certainly isn't as scenically beautiful.

i miss the ocean.  i miss the snow.  i miss the wind, water, gulls, and the fog horn.  i sometimes wonder if, when i dream i hear that fog horn, it really is sounding off up there and is reaching out to me trying to call me home.  home to the ocean's edge.   home to the beach i knew and loved.

or maybe that fog horn i still here in my mind and in my heart is letting me know that it is out there in the fog i cannot see through, the fog of what's to come; letting me know i have a sound to walk towards so i can find my way home.........

home to the puzzle box where my darling, beautiful Dragon's piece sits and waits for me.

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny....girl? what's going on?

spring is coming, or here, something. it's warm. trees are flowering. it's pretty out there.

Bunny is working very hard at the store and at her apartment.

days are passing. months. season after season, holiday after holiday. Bunny is getting older.

see that fuzzy, old face up there? stuff's happening. people are getting married. people are having babies. people are living.

is Bunny living?

she still takes pictures. see the pretty tree flowers?
Bun thinks their very nice. they don't smell though.

Bunny's like looks sort of like that. her life looks sort of settled; well, she's got a routine. she pays her bills after much nail biting. she cuts out the luxury stuff like meat and stuff. but she is getting by. she laughs at work. she smiles on cue. she is sewing up a storm. she works very hard. but her life doesn't smell. it's like a pretty flower that draws you in but when you sniff it, there's no smell. there's no perfume.

is Bunny living a faux life?

she doesn't know and she doesn't care. oh, stop. she does sort of care. otherwise she wouldn't be writing about it. it's a question that doesn't have a smell. if someone were to tell her that still missing her Dragon as she does makes her life worthless, she'd shrug and say, "so."

nothing makes Bunny feel. she is just floating along on her little boat on the seemingly endless sea of her lifetime. she's doing what she has to. she's doing what's expected. she has opinions. Lordly, Lord, Lord, does Bunny have opinions, she just doesn't really care what happens out there.

the election? Bunny would write in Cthulhu which is the lesser evil.

dating? phew.

just putting one fuzzy little foot in front of the other.

you know, Bunny doesn't really have a lot to say. she just wanted to reach out to see if anyone was still out there.

*Bunny waves hi*

take care everyone. it's a wild world out there. Bunny knows. today she had a grandmother yell out in the store after her grandson who was racing off to dress his bear, "DON'T YOU WANT TO GIVE YOUR BEAR THAT AIR BATH THING THAT BLOWS OUT AIR ON HIM?! DON'T YOU WANT TO GIVE HIM A BLOW JOB?!"

Bunny didn't laugh until she got to the back room.

3

see that main photo up there? that's Beach Bunny with her Home Buns. {omgosh i can't believe i typed that. it's the antibiotic talking. and the hot tea. and the mist from the humidifier. and the, oh give it up. i'm just a silly woman who loves her Bunny and the comfort that she brings.}

Bunny came back from work to find flowers from SSSF, his new fiancee, and his daughter. thank you. she was dragging her weary white tail up the stairs to her door in the fading light and there they sat.

bright. cheerful. but more importantly, they were whispering that someone remembered and understands.
Bunny got lots of very nice comments on her Facebook posting about what yesterday and today means to her.

she's moody tonight. teary.

yep, very teary, but not breaking down into sobs.

see that photo below? he was laughing at Bunny. and he was signing. "i love you." he could tell i was zooming in on him. he was just back from being "out-of-town." his stomach was all bandaged up from being shot. such a Marine. he called it being "nicked." "hi, honey. i'm on my way home. got the job done. oh, got nicked. nothing major."
he was so happy to be home. he was so funny when he was mending. "it's not as bad as it looks. i've had worse done. well, you remember last fall." {yeah, Baby, i do. and i love you so much. now just rest and i'm going out to take these shots for the magazine. they've already paid me for them. i need them off by Sunday.} "wait up. i'm coming with you."

so i told him to just stand up on the rocks while i went down to where i needed to set up the tripod. and there he was. enjoying the day. enjoying being home with me beside the ocean.

enjoying being alive.

and now he is the shadow man of my dreams. he is the rising sun and the setting sun. he is the moon at night and the stars in the sky. he is the wind in my hair and the warmth of the day on my skin. he is the end all be all of my life.

he is my Dragon and i am forever his.

1095 days {blind faith}

{the 8th/9th will be 3 years. i've already written this post for those dates. i'm going to be swamped with work after today, my only day off, until after Valentine's Day. if you will pardon the expression, i'm buried in work. so i'm posting my 3 year missive today.}

it feels longer. it feels like forever. and then it hits me. again. he's never coming back.

i don't know if the shock has worn off yet. i guess it has, but i keep getting hit over and over. he's gone. i'm not going to be seeing him again.

he always seemed invincible. he was so hard and rough. he was a Marine. Force Recon. he was a sniper. he would be gone, but then he would come back to me. sometimes, when he would be gone, i would curl up in a ball on the bed and sob with worry that he would be lost out there in the world and they would not be able to bring him back to me; not be able to retrieve his body. the places they sent him to, the things he did, he couldn't tell me. i just knew from the look in his eyes and the additional scars on his body.

he hurt outside, and inside. he would hold me and ask for absolution.

i heard this soliloquy. i wrote it down as fast as i could. i hit me so hard when i heard it. it made me think of my Dragon.

spies live in the shadows but they dream of the light. when you work in covert ops for low pay and in life threatening conditions, the idea that your work won't remain secret forever keeps you going. one day, the world will learn what you've done even if your name is never known. some of the sweetest moments come when the job ends and the bullets stop flying ~ that is unless one of those bullets rips through your chest.

he always got home to me, even if bullets did rip through him, and believe me they did. and knives. i would take care of him and he would heal. and for that space and time, we were one.

and then he would go back out again. and our one was split; two halves separated waiting to be rejoined. and i would take care of him again. we would hold each other and his body would shake with sobs that would never come to the surface. he wanted absolution. he craved salvation for things he did for his country that he could never speak about.

i love him. i will always be in love with him. i feel like i am living without air. i've learned to breathe underwater because he would want me to. new life. new location. new job. all without him. all so different. like i am on another planet.
what we had together......the things i could tell you......the way he was with me. i don't know if it was rare. it was rare for me to be loved at all. and his devotion, that was all so new to me, to be cherished like that. and short. such a short time to be with the person i was meant to be with. the only one. my only love.

he is gone now and it has shaken me to my soul. what does it mean to die? where did he go? Heaven? Purgatory? no one can answer me on this. i hope no one tries. when i close my eyes and die, will he be there? we all say it to each other, "he's waiting for you." and we mean it from the bottom of our hearts. we want to offer comfort and reassure each other that the one person we connected with here is waiting for us there. but do we, in the dark of our own grief, fully believe and embrace it to the point where we no longer have any doubts when we are on our own? ever? even when we are very tired or stressed?

is he happy? does he remember me? is he safe?

we never really know how much we believe in something, or trust it, until it is tested. i always believed, you die, you go to Heaven, or Hell, and most certainly i have tried to be a good girl. but how narrow is that opening to get into Heaven? do snipers get in? do widows who grieve and ask questions, and have doubts get in?

i always trusted that, if you were good, you got into Heaven. it was supposed to comfort the grief-stricken. but now that belief has been tested with the death of my Dragon. i am finding myself worrying at times, in both the day and in the dark, about Heaven, and if God loves us enough. have i been good enough? have i said enough prayers? have i been humble enough?

all i can do is keep going. keep praying. and hold on to a faith so blind that i am stumbling a bit.

a woman wrote me yesterday through one of my hubpages articles. she is terribly worried and wanted to know what i thought about something. her father had died and she is grieving for him. her Aunt says her grief is out of proportion and that she is keeping her father's soul from entering Heaven by "calling him back with your grief." i wrote to her and gave her my opinion in a gentle and delicate, and faith-based way with full consideration to her feelings. but between you and me here, in a nutshell, i gave her the long version of this: i told her her Aunt was a poisonous bitch who was either stupid or cruel.

i hate cruelty. there is absolutely no reason for it. none.

i made a Bunny for the Grief Project. i sent her off believing i would never seen her again. but one day she appeared at my door. she came to visit me through my Dragon Days. is this a small sign? is grasping at straws and calling them signs a sin?
she brought a card signed by people i have never met. it said i could lean awhile. the little girl on the left, the one who's leaning, her expression......that bewildered, slightly hurt, little bit fearful expression is one i mask every day i leave the apartment.
but i did. i leaned on Lucy. i cried and could not speak. i cried and finally spoke.
i talked about my fears. i talked about my worries. i talked about my Dragon, my now immortal beloved.

my Dragon has left me here alone, testing my belief in Heaven, leaving me here with only blind faith. and i am so very blind.

the only thing i have is a song.

exactly on the nose 24 hours after he died, a radio that had never played before turned itself on and played Sarah MacLachlan's "Angel." to be precise the chorus played: "in the arms of the angels far away from here....."

that song is all i have really have to cling to, that and blind faith ~ the biggest test of all.

it's a very pretty song.