the Great Mobius Strip of Grief

my Internet went down on Sunday at 10 AM. right in the middle of my iChat with my son, our images froze onscreen. we finished our talk on the cells. technology is the double-edged sword of our lives. when it works it is wonderful. i can see my son who lives 8 hours away. when it turns on us, it is frustrating and even alienating. practically all of our contact is done online to even get to face-to-face. emails. tweets. texts. "meet me?" "can i come over?" i like to hear voices. i like to see faces. i do not have the money for a phone that is connected to the web like that. my cell is only for my children since we are all AT&T. $1 a day if i use it. no charge for talking to another AT&T cell. pay for what you use.

someone was going to call me Sunday. my magic jack plugs into the computer so with the Great 10AM Crash, i did not get the call. the repair man came at 7:30 last night and had to give me a new modem thingy that sits on the floor and blinks at me. so i am up.

i worked yesterday. i worked Saturday and Black Friday. i really like the job. the managers all say they like me and do not see any real reason why i would not be asked to stay on after the holidays. and then yesterday the 4th and final manager in line had her things to say. it made me apprehensive and between all of you and me, i do not need anymore stress and anxiety in my life.

she said, "before you i was the oldest but i told {the head manager} that it was okay."

i was not sure how to respond to that. then she got a little peeved that i was helping a customer and did not break away to answer the phone. "you can answer the phone, you know. here's what you say. i know you were with someone but you can answer the phone." she was idle. i had thought she would get the phone. with every customer i offer the sounds that can go into the toy. at the end of my shift she evaluated me and said, "you need to offer sounds." i told her i did to every customer. she ignored me and wrote it down as a critique. she asked how i liked working there. i told her i loved it and wanted to work hard to be able to stay beyond season. the other 3 managers had responded positively. she responded with, "well, you never know. i mean we may ask someone to stay on. we'll have to see how you work out."

my face felt hot. my head felt like it was going to explode. i simply smiled what i call a Mona Lisa smile. it was proper. it was in place. behind it was a mystery as to what i was truly feeling with her words ringing in my brain.

in this economy, knowing you are talking to a widow, knowing how hard things can be even for people who have a partner and two incomes, having your job threatened while you are a recent hire and still learning is cruel. cruel. mean. heartless. bullying.

then she turns it around and asks about my textile art and grief and the heritage behind my last name. "how do you pronounce it?" "what heritage?" i have no idea where i stand with this woman. i am on guard and on alert. i am also not on the schedule until Sunday. and then i only work 4 days that week. i need hours. hours. hours of work. but i am using this week to finish up the quilt that is due before Christmas.

Christmas is coming again,

without him

but this time i am wide awake.

i hear the bells, the songs,

without him

and at times my composure breaks.

i bought myself little star lights

without him

and i put them on my Dragon tree.

the tree he bought grew tall

without him

and the only one to decorate it is me.

i stood and cried by his tree

without him

i cried as i strung the lights.

Christmas is coming again

without him,

and nothing will ever feel right,

ever again....

without him.

i wish i could run to his arms and stay there. i want him to hold me and protect me, or at least spell me, from life's little cruelties. he was so great for letting me sit cuddled up to him and talk. he was so great for talking to me and easing my woes. he used humor. he used his ineffable {sacred} lightness that was part of who he was to comfort me. he surrounded me with his love.

i am facing the holidays and the start of the new year outside the fog of the first year and a half. the sleeping widow has woken up and she is crushed under the weight of reality. i want to go back into the fog and the numbness and bumble around. i do not want to think. i do not want to do anything but ............. i do not even know what i want to do anymore. i feel so overwhelmed with anxiety, panic, fears of one woman making me lose my job, not getting to keep the job, how long will my life without him be, a myriad of questions for which there is no answer, or no easy answer.

i really need him which is stupid funny because i need him because his death makes me need him more. i always needed him before simply because he made me so damn happy. yes, me happy. Bunny was happy once. but his death is so hard and i need him to help me get through it so it is a paradox of sorts. it is so simple a thought that is becomes complex; the Great Mobius Strip of Grief.

my Dragon and i were scrounging for shells and small pieces of driftwood along the beach one day when a man walked up, a tourist during the season. he introduced himself and said he was an early riser like we were and saw us out all the time and that we were always holding hands. my Dragon introduced us and referred to me as his "lovely bride." the man said jokingly, "So you love her as much as the day you married her, huh?"

and my Dragon said, "No." my Dragon looked at me and reached for my hand. he smiled enigmatically and said, "i love her more and more with each passing day. we're growing old together so our love is growing." then he looked back at the man and said, "that's how it is for us. every day. more and more."

and that's how it still is. even though his spirit has transcended to another place, i love him more and more. every day. more and more. Angel Bunny pining for her absent Dragon.

is that all there is?

it came. the letter. i get something each month, at the end of the month for the month before. it is far, far less than what i had hoped for. it is far less than what i had even expected. no wonder the man on the phone had said, "it is less than what he deserves for what he did."

did i tell you that he had been captured once? he was. they only had him for 3 weeks because he got away, but they did things to him. they hurt him. after that, and for the rest of his life, it was difficult for him to find shoes that were comfortable for longer than 3 or 4 hours.

he deserved more recognition from his government, but i believe every widow of a veteran can say that. in that one thing i am not alone.

my ex got pissed at me this weekend for what i think of as a small infraction. i have no control over life or him. i just have to run the gauntlet. or maybe i should twirl and dance. harder to hit someone who dances to the song playing in their head, a music no one else can hear. but he is a pressure on my lungs that is like a giant rock. heavy. huge. he held off on my food money and my rent money transfer until this morning. yesterday was purgatory waiting him out. i did not write. i did not call. when he called, i endured the lecture pretty much how i always have, silently. and when i spoke, i chose my words carefully.

he huffed and puffed and all it got was windy. there is nothing he can do to hurt me more than the death of my Dragon hurt. i am so tired of being scared. i think i am just going to bury scared in the sand and walk away. i have too many other fears cropping up now and for the rest of my life to be afraid of someone who isn't really in my life anymore. not too too much anyway.

and come Jan. 1, he will only have one leash on me. the other lines will be severed. financially speaking, i am in the middle of a constant panic attack until i figure out if i have the job or not. wednesday. i need Wednesday's job interview to be perfect, and i am so far from perfect; i have never seen perfect. no one would call me even "right," but he did. my Dragon thought i was perfect. and he was flawed perfectly, the perfect fit for me.

i am ready for this to be over or i am ready for him to come back. one of the two. okay? ah, well, c'est la vie. it is what it is and it will be what it will be. i guess that's really Que Sara Sara. but that song did not fit my mood with the "Is That All There Is" letter from the VA. and i have always liked Peggy Lee's voice. kind of a smokey, torch singer in a basement jazz and blues bar voice.

i miss him. i am scared. sometimes i think i feel so much and so deeply that i am incapable of feeling much at all. i did panic my son yesterday. he called and i had been crying. i sounded like i had a terrible cold. he again reassured me that we will work this out. i will not be homeless or without food. hearing my son say that, the little boy i protected all his life, it feels surreal.

a woman from the old group left a note on my Facebook page last week, the personal one. i have not heard from her in 6 months, i think it is. 5 or 6. i have sent a couple of emails. left some comments to her postings on FB, but heard nothing back. and then she leaves a comment that we should re-connect. i sent her a private message that i would love to do that. i gave her my phone number again in case she had lost it. and i have heard nothing back. if a widow does not understand loneliness and financial hard times, or have time for another widow, then there is nothing i can do. my door is open. the phone lines are open. i will not stand on a porch waiting for someone who cannot find their own front door.

i have my daughter and son. i have my two little dogs. i have my Dragon, sort of. my memories anyway. i have the knowledge that i was good enough for him. he loved me. there i said it. past tense. you have no idea how big a step that is for me. but he is gone and whether he loves me now is beyond my knowing. i like to believe he does. but i know for fact that he did love me once. and i love him. if i am only good enough for one person during my life, then so be it. life has not been easy. i have weird things i have to deal with through no choice of my own. i can only do what i can do. and i am who i am. my Dragon loved me and i do find solace in that.

now i am lonely Beach Bunny alone. {i think there is a poem in that title.} i am struggling to get a handle on, not who i am, i know who i am; but on what the hell will happen to me. i just want to have a roof and food. roof and food. that's my mantra. screw health care. next up is applying for food stamps. i work non-stop on getting by every day all day. embroidering, quilting, sewing, and now waiting on that job interview and prostituting myself to others with a vibrancy and love of life i no longer have. but for a roof and food, i will smile and shine.

maybe one day it will all come together. maybe one day i will be able to relax for one day. one moment. maybe one day something will happen and i will not be panicked any longer. until then, i will keep working, searching for work, and taking it up the fluffy white tail from those odd people who race to the gauntlet line and reach out for a quick slap to make themselves feel good.

{Bunny does have a sense of humor.}

all i can do is keep hopping, twirling, maybe dancing a little, and cry a little. tears cleanse the eyes and the peanut gallery on the sidelines of my gauntlet will get their jollies from seeing me cry while i just keep going. and one day, they will all get bored with their cruel game. it is really win-win if you think about it. and if i get the Build-A-Bear job, i will be busy being like Mr. Magorium's assistant, not really, but sort of. you have to be inside my head.

for now, the Bun is alone. her Dragon has died. all she can do is hop along, twirl and dance when she can. she will just keep jumping through everyone's hoops. too bad some of those hoops are on fire.

but Bunny was made at Build-A-Bear and her fur is more or less flame retardant. until they hold her down and really work to destroy her, she will keep going. and, as the song says, if that's all there is, then she will keep dancing, but only under the light of the full moon.

Bunny is Mad as Hell

Bunny, that would be me, is finally pissed. yes, i said the P word. i do not like to type crude or negative 4-letter words because simply, there are better words to convey these thoughts, but i, that would be our soft-spoken, submissive-most-all-the-time Bunny, is pissed as hell.

see that face? can a Bunny look any more angry? i do not think so. grrrrrrrrrrr.
i am telling this in 3rd person to deal with it from a detached point of view. Bunny is the strong one. Bunny belongs to the Dragon. not me. not yet. i need to come back from all the put downs of late. it has been a long, long few weeks here. very long.

Bunny had gone to a dentist less than 7 months ago. he did his dentist thing. he took x-rays. he poked and prodded. his decision was to build up the tooth. the night of April 27th i ate a nacho. yes, Bunny made nachos for supper. she was running out of food and got creative. Doritos and grated cheese melted on top for supper. she bit into the chip and BAM, or i guess she should say, "CRACK" or whatever word can bring the image of a tooth splitting vertically up into her gum. sharp pain. spitting blood. (sorry for being graphic) worry about what had happened. Bunny's daughter made an emergency stop over after work and, yes, the tooth was split. it was confirmed so Bunny called the dentist emergency line and left a message to be called first thing in the morning.

Bunny called at 10 AM and in a quiet tone of voice, respectful and polite, asked if the doctor had gotten her message. the receptionist was snippy and said, "Oh, yes, i have your message. i give them to him at noon." Bunny was diplomatic and explained AGAIN that she felt it was an emergency and wanted an appointment. she was given a time and her daughter took off work.

when they arrived the snippy receptionist said, "oh, i meant to tell you that the appointment was for Monday. the doctor wants to take the afternoon off. it's such a pretty day and you were the only appointment after lunch."

Bunny has cotton in her mouth because the broken tooth keeps rubbing the gum and bleeding and the snippy receptionist wants her to wait 4 more days? no way. Bunny got teary. Bunny had not eaten anything since the tooth broke. the doctor was still there. Bunny wanted to see him. she was hurting. she was bleeding, for gosh sakes. the doctor saw her and the blood and decided to see her. sadly as a statement to her character, Bunny graciously thanked the dentist. her daughter was, however, was furious, but held her tongue, too. the dentist had Bunny sit down then he reached in with a tool and yanked the broken part out. he did not deaden it. he was in a hurry. then he said, "needs a crown. see you Monday." and he left her and her daughter. the nurse booked the appointment saying it would be for a crown and take 2 hours. she also said to eat soft foods only on the other side of the mouth.

so on April 26th, Bunny is dropped off and suddenly it is SURGERY. 9 shots of Novocaine and 12 stitches later Bunny is shaking like a leaf. she hurts. she's in shock. no one had said surgery to her. they had said, "crown." she did not know she would have oral surgery. Bunny had a crown done before. there was no surgery then. the dentist said, "well, i guess i should have explained that there's more to it." so he explained to Bunny and her angry daughter who had come to pick up her mom.

one month and Bunny would be as right as rain. the gum would heal. once a week checks. the fourth week and Bunny would have her crown.

the next appointment was May 3rd. stitches did not come out. he said it still looked inflamed and maybe it needed more healing than he had anticipated. an appointment for May 10th is set for the stitches to come out. "oh and by the way, don't eat on that side, very soft foods only, no peanut butter or anything sticky, for 3 MONTHS." then Bunny gets her crown.

Bunny and her daughter are in shock. 3 months? he guesses he should have explained it better last week. no kidding. three months of eating like her jaw is wired shut takes planning and budgeting Bunny's stipend of money. he said that Bunny needs 3 months for the gum to heal. during the surgery he had had to sand the bone where the tooth had actually gouged it.

this is where Bunny's daughter has to step in and ask, "this is a tooth you worked on 6 months ago. it was taken out by a soggy nacho chip. she wasn't gnawing the marrow out of a bone. it was a limp, cheesy chip and it totally destroyed your work of 6 months ago. you are charging us over $1700 for this. you don't guarantee your work. and every time we come your snippy receptionist out tells us she booked the wrong time and could we go away. but we're here and we're seeing you. first it was a crown. then it became surgery and one month. now it's 3 f*cking months." (Bunny's daughter was really angry and yes, she cussed like a sailor on first dog watch on a hot day at the equator while stuck in the doldrums.)

the dentist smiles and says, "sorry."

what is Bunny and her daughter to do? he has us. we need this done.

so Bunny is all set for the stitches to be removed on May 10th. NOT. okay, not exactly not. the nurse took out the stitches since the doctor was NOT there AGAIN. she could not give an evaluation of the healing progress but his notes had read, "stitches out" so she took them out. no real post-op instructions could be given. and why was he gone? his NEW OFFICE needed his attention.

"WHAT NEW OFFICE?" Bunny and her daughter were stunned. "he'll get back to you."

"is it a secret?"

Bunny and her daughter whose anger has reached incendiary were told to leave. since the doctor was gone the office was shutting down for the day. the next appointment to see "if the removal of the stitches went okay and if any healing progress has been made" is May 24th. Monday is Bunny's daughter's only day off. the snippy receptionist now acts like she is judging us. she said that there were "other days available but if Monday is all YOU PEOPLE can do then it has to be the 24th." the snippy receptionist with the judgement affliction told Bunny that her continued healing was up to her. "entirely up to you," and that if Mondays was the only day she could get a ride to the office then, how well and how fast she healed was entirely up to her.

Bunny and her daughter called and left messages for the dentist to answer some health questions. they called on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and today. he did not return the calls. his snippy receptionist with the judgment affliction told Bunny's daughter, "i emailed him once. he has the message. he will call when he takes the time. you chose your next appointment time. i am not bothering him with this. "

all through this, Bunny has been quiet. she has been a good girl. she has cooperated. she does not like confrontation. but Bunny's daughter has borne the brunt of the snippy receptionist with the judgement affliction's very sharp tongue for the last time. Bunny is mad as hell. Bunny dashed off a terse email to every email address in the dentist office with bulleted text of facts as they played out. Bunny wants answers. she also copied her ex and her daughter. Bunny's ex-husband passed along his own email to the dentist succinctly saying that the doctor needs to answer the questions. and oh my gosh what happened? the dentist emails us back.

get this. he's sorry. he has a migraine today and is flying out to LA to learn to be an orthodontist. he will email the answers tomorrow but that Bunny "should be fine." oh, and the address for the new office is below his signature.

i weep for the state of the world.

~~~

i am Bunny and Bunny is me. my stuffed rabbit has a much softer and cuter face than i. i look more like the troll below so i use the stuffed rabbit. but i have to be honest. i look more like the troll. my blonde hair has some silver threads now. i have some worry lines. i cry. i am sad. i am tired, so very tired. i work all the time. when i "knock off," i do hand work in my lap.

i will admit that i would like someone to think of me for one moment. i want someone to think that maybe i have feelings and that a broken tooth can cause pain. what ever happened to "first do no harm?"

i wish my Dragon were here. he has a presence that few ever challenged. his voice could be so deep and cold. he exuded authority. once i fell and broke my hand. the ER doctor who splinted it said so. he pointed to it on the x-ray. two days later at the orthopedic doctor's office, he said he did not think it was broken, that had maybe asked for the splint. he winked at my Dragon and said, "women." my Dragon did not smile. the doctor grabbed my hand in his and forced my fingers into a fist. the snap of my bone was very audible. i felt faint from the pain. i did throw up immediately. the nurse in the room was horrified. my Dragon reached over and grabbed the doctor by his tie and said, "if you have a partner, get him in here now because you are not touching my wife again." when the doctor tried to leave, my Dragon said, "no, call him. yell, text, cell phone. whatever, but get him in here to see what you did to my wife."

you can't pay for that kind of protection. well, you can but it costs. my ex never stood up for me that way and never stood by me. never. when we lost our first child, he left me alone to go sailing with his friends. his remark of "we'll have another" clubbed me in the backs of my knees. so no, you cannot always trust that you will get the kind of love, loyalty, and protection that my Dragon gave me. and this dentist and his snippy receptionist with the judgement affliction are reminding me of what i lost.

i lost my fierce Dragon who stood between me and all that was unholy. if a woman cannot get it done, it will take a man. and i wish it were my Dragon. that dentist would not be acting this way if my Dragon were here. the dentist wears a tie. when i listen to his chipmunk voice i dream of a Dragon's hand cinching that tie a little tighter.

i am drowning here in anger and stress and worry. how do i stop drowning? everyone needs to get their frickin' feet off my head. i have apologized my whole life for things - stupid things, things that were not my fault, even for my feelings. i should be allowed my feelings. i am allowed to be alive - as much alive as i can be while wanting and needing and missing my Dragon as i am. damn-it. now i'm crying.

i want him back. i need him. i think i need to call in the Marines on this one. it's going to be a long 3 months.

i am not proofreading this one for anyone. i am too tired. my damn tooth hurts too much. i do not give a flip anymore. too many people have mistaken my quiet, non-confrontational personality as a door mat. i am tired of being walked on and told i am wrong, being treated as unimportant, and told that i do not have a right to say what i feel. i have apologized for living too often. i have rights, too. i am mad as hell. they were rude to my daughter so now there's going to be hell to pay.

one year, one month ~ grading on a curve

today is one of those almost perfect days. the weather is warm. my slider is open to a screen to let in air but not the birds that for some reason love to pull a Hitchcock on my balcony railing. they stare at me. don't laugh. i am serious. ever since i got one of those big birdseed bells last year, and a mutant crow came and gripped it in it talons, and ripped it off the hanger, they all seem to think i am going to put one out again. no way. i have small dogs, two scotties, and i don't want some big bird thinking they are charred birdseed.

so the slider is open but the screen is firmly shut. i'm embroidering on the last quilt for Suddenwidow and crossing my toes for more commissions. bury me people. i wouldn't mind a list a year and a half long. i just ate a quick bite and checked my email for some commissions that are being considered by people and my igoogle comes up. i love my flying, spinning pig that floats across the top and my applications like, well, yeah, the phases of the moon. i also have a calendar.

there is no avoiding looking at it. today. one year, one month.

am i better? how do you define better? would you consider grading on a curve? well, i don't sob and curl into a ball every single day. i do cry every night as i talk to God, and to him. i smile but my daughter says my eyes don't. i am thinking about the future and it freaks me out. i need health care because as bad as i feel right now, i know i'll feel worse someday. i can't live in this apartment for the rest of my life. i eventually need a car to get myself around. so the future scares the hell out of me.

i have, however, learned how to be more alone than i've ever been in my life. no one touches me but my daughter. once a week hugs. i only hear her and my son's voices now. i have the gift of online friends who are amazing. i have gotten flowers, my widow's ring, and the wherewithal to go to Camp Widow. never would i have gotten to go. never would i buy myself flowers. embroider them for myself, yes. but the smell isn't the same. and my rings, i find myself playing with my rings, making sure the little gold heart on the copper band of my wedding ring is perfectly centered. my widow's ring is closest to my heart.

as rings go i think i'm all backwards but that's me. eccentric thoughts lead to an eccentric life. my wedding ring has the heart on the band. when my Dragon gave it to me, the heart faced outwards to him. while i sat with him after he died, i took it off and turned it around and told him that my heart was closed to anyone and everything. i spoke those words while i was sitting there wanting to exchange places, or to go with him. but one year and one month later, God help me, it still holds true.

my daughter and i went out to supper one night about three weeks ago. we went to a Olive Garden. a man sent over a glass of wine for me. i told the waiter to thank the man but i declined. i told him i was very happily married and only out with my daughter. my daughter backed up the lie. or is it? i still feel married to him. i know he's gone. i know i am a widow. but i still feel so very married to him, so deeply connected, as strong a connection as the day we married, as the night he died.

or maybe i got the wine wrong. i am alone all the time so maybe my social skills are suffering. after we got in my daughter's car later i told her that maybe i hurt his feelings. maybe he saw the wild, unruly blonde hair, my long, patched denim skirt, and my big fake gold hoop earrings and thought i was an old hippie pothead. maybe he just wanted to score, but you know, weed, not sex. she had to stop the car she was laughing so hard. she said, "oh, God, mom. (our Dragon) would love it. i've missed your warped sense of humor. promise me. when you go to San Diego, you'll just say stuff. don't clam up. just say what you think. i promise you someone will laugh."

i have these grief surges. i read about them in a book another widow mailed to me. grief surges catch you off guard. you think, "i'm doing okay. i'm going to survive this. in fact, i damn well may smile today and it might even reach my eyes." then BAM. a song. the sound of seagulls over the Wal-Mart parking lot. or the sight of his beautiful face while i color correct all my photos of him. i feel short of breath. my heart actually hurts. my throat closes up as i fight off sobs. my eyes burn and the smile that was supposed to occur dies in sorrow.

so on this no big special deal today, just another month going by, here are some photos of my Dragon i don't think you've ever seen.

out on, okay, way out on Flat Rock Point dreaming of our island.

heading to the low tide point where we can wade across to climb up to the top of Salt Island.

there were crabs that made their home of this side of Flat Rock Point. we always went to check on them at dusk.

at the end of the Dog Bar off Eastern Point Light. we loved it out here during storms. the waves would slam into the granite and arch over the seawall. great place to be when the wind was howling. no one else would be out there.

my beautiful, wild Dragon. i miss you, love.

do you ever think of me? do you say my name? if i were never there again, would you never be the same? ~ my little rhyme for the day.

Adventure Days

i call them Adventure Days. they are my daughter's one day off a week and we have adventures. Michael's for floss. maybe Target to just walk around. Wal-Mart, of course, for the food. but there's the talking, the talking, the laughing, the talking, and of course the talking.i'm up on those days in anticipation of being out. as in away from the apartment. i check the weather for what shirt to wear. i have 6 long sleeve shirts, all his. i have 9 t-shirts, mixed his and mine. i wear the same pair of jeans always. my others have gotten to large, or i've lost weight. i'm not sure. but it's always exciting to know that my daughter is coming to get me.

i'm a cartoon. there was the single panel cartoon that appeared in the "New Yorker" years ago, really, seriously, years ago. i don't know why i remember it but it impacted me a lot way, way back then. an elderly woman was drawn standing up from her chair. doillies rested on the arms of the chair. it looked quite comfy. the woman's knitting was beside it, needles resting for the night. with one hand she was clutching her shawl around her, chilled a bit with the movement of her getting up and walking about the little room. her other hand was patting her television. she had a soft, lonely expression in her ink drawn eyes and underneath the cartoon it was written that she was saying, "Night,night. See you tomorrow."

i feel like that sometimes. i sew until very late. i'm in and out the sliders to my balcony taking photos of the moon. and then i walk the dogs one last time. i come in and take off their leashes. i pull my Dragon's bag of climbing ropes in front of the door as a B&E deterrant. and then i turn off the television. i don't yet say, "night, night," to it. but i think i'm close.

i've become a cartoon.

oh, well. here are more moon photos. i'm that pathetic, and devoted. one negative thing. one positive thing. so they cancel each other out and i'm okay.
the setting moon yesterday morning.
the rising moon last night.
the moon at apex for me. the earth turned and he moved and it looks different. he'll be back tonight.

i'm thinking i'm going to end up taking his photo each night until after Valentine's Day. to assist me with a goal to focus on until Valentine's Day/my Dragon's funeral anniversary is past.

and now, it's Adventure Day. i'm going to go brush my teeth. psssst. we may get hamburgers.

=0\

i had a post that i just deleted. i called it "resentful." but i got scared to leave it up. it was not nice and i just don't have it in me to leave it there.

i had a couple of bad things happen today. just here sewing and i got my feelings hurt. my daughter's mother-in-law called to explain her lack of invitation to Christmas Eve. "It's going to be a lot of happy people, couples. You'll be all alone and I know you don't want that thrown in your face. I mean, if you want to come and sit here, that's fine, but I don't think you'll want to so I'll just plan on you not coming."

Then she addressed Christmas Day. "It's just going to be family exchanging presents and I know you don't have the money to give anyone anything. I wouldn't want you to feel left out, so again, I'll just plan on you staying home. I'll send the kids along after we've had our dinner."

if my Dragon were here with me, he'd smile his devilish smile and say, "*uck'em all." then he'd take me in his arms and it wouldn't matter at all, nothing outside our door would matter anymore.

i love you, honey. you are in my every thought.

Dragons in the hoop and the Quilt on the Wall

i've been busy and i haven't taken the time to do my own quilt. i've sort of finished the top but not to my liking. i rushed it so i will have to take it all apart and that depresses me so much. it's a major setback. i don't have the fabric i want for it and i used remnants just to get something together, anything together for me. i see the others with their quilts i made and i want mine. i just want my own quilt. so i used push pins and put it up on the wall to look at. before i start taking it apart, i need to plan better and get the fabric i want for it.

in the meantime......

my Dragon carried cotton handkerchiefs. he wasn't against tissues but he just carried a cotton handkerchief in his pocket "in case." i have all of them. so until i have some time without a deadline in it that i can take my quilt apart and redo it, i'm using my down time late at night when my hand hurts too much to do the sewing on a commissioned quilt to embroidery his handkerchiefs. i'm drawing dragons on them and using my best floss. not that i use crappy floss on the commissioned work, i don't. but people have special colors they've selected that have great meaning to them. i'm using the colors that have great meaning to me.

these little handkerchief dragons are my creative homage to a man who was amazed by my sewing. he always loved my designs and i was felt special when he looked at my work. i always wanted him to think i was important. coming from a life where i had no value at all, my self-worth barely registered. i had grown to believe i was nothing. then he found me and saw something inside me that he like. he thought i should be allowed to feel cherished. he always said he wanted me to fly free and he'd be along for the ride. he always believed i had hidden talent. but i am sitting here tonight after a long silent weekend alone wondering if i have now lost my self-worth because i've lost him.

we only see objects when light shines on them. he shined his brilliant smile on me and i was noticed for the first time as a sentient person with her own dreams and feelings. i have always been womanNshadows, a name i acquired along the way well over 38 years ago. it is not an Internet screen name. it is a family name. my name. my life has over and over borne out the truth of that name. receiving it was a crushing blow. it became one of my scars. my Dragon taught me to value it and the strength it took to endure it. he is the most wonderful man i've ever known. he is the smartest, strongest, kindest, most irreverent man i've ever known. i adore him. i'm his wife. i'm his widow, but i still feel intensely more his wife. we're just not able to be in the same, what, plane of consciousness together? the same timeline?

do i believe in signs? i want to. i've only had two. the night after he died a radio that never played before popped on at exactly 12:03 AM, the time on his death certificate, playing Sarah MacLaughlin's "Angel." "in the arms of the angels far away from here....." not the beginning of the song. not the end. right there. those words came from a radio that should not have been plugged in. was it a sign? i hope so. does it go against faith and would it make God mad if i think that? i don't know. and the heart cloud as we crossed the border into this state where i'm living now. is that a sign? the reality is i've only directly asked my daughter and she'll say anything to help me get through the moment.

i've read other grief blogs. i've read that time makes it easier. i've read that we just adapt to the new life without, that the burden is still there, but we learn to carry it. i've read some who have moved on and others who, after a few years, still grieve and are still trying to find their way. grief is like carpet bombing. there is such wide spread devastation from so many different ways death occurred, and so many different attempts to get through it, live with it, get past it. we're all searching and everyone has responses and their ways but no one has the answer. i've read comments be snippy, condescending, and outright hostile to those who blog about their grief. it's even intimidating to write when so many others do. you post and check back to see if anyone noticed you. who left a comment. what did they say. is there comfort there? ridicule? an answer you haven't thought of?

in the end, all we can do is log off and go back to our grief-stricken lives; live however works best for us. for me, i'm juggling trying to make some time for myself. i am slowly getting some designs done for me that will bring me solace.

like Dragons in my embroidery hoop and the quilt on the wall. the art of grief.

settling in to depression

i've had to gather my thoughts about my daughter's wedding. the simplicity of them makes it harder to convey. i can't say, "i missed him," or "i am horribly ugly," or "i feel so alone" without explaining the magnitude of those words. everyone knows i miss him. no one knows that i feel ugly or why. they do know i feel alone but all believe that "this too shall pass."

it won't. nothing surrounding those three expressions will ever change. i think i'll take them one at a time and try to be brief though brevity is difficult.

1. "i missed him." i miss him. every day i wake to purgatory. no beautiful day, weather, event, or improved situation will alter that fact. i may smile, laugh, or seem animated in telling a story or memory, but i have merely stepped forward from behind the veil of sorrow that surrounds me. maybe someday there will be far less fabric to have to move aside to be truly seen. i do have moments of absolute clarity where i know that i can live with how badly i am feeling, but i also know how life is playing out. i miss him. right now i'm pathetic to see. so lonely, deeply grieving. i find i can talk too much when someone pays attention to me. i've been told that i need to tell my story of him again and again and yet i cannot find anyone who has the time. i miss him and no one compares to him. he is larger than life in the way he lived, how he looked, his character, his personality. no one can distract me from my adoration of him. he was too much of everything i ever wanted.

i miss him. i missed him. i am missing him. i always will be missing him.

2. "i am horribly ugly." my daughter and son know i feel this way. a widow from the group i attend was with me at the wedding during a moment of such absolute and overwhelming sorrow that i had had to hide myself away was caught off guard by the vehemence in my voice when i expressed this to her. it came tumbling out of my mouth between sobs. her standard response was, "you don't mean that." i snapped my head up and looked at her directly and said, "yes, i do. i am hideously ugly. and he's not here for me to see that i can be accepted as i am."

he, of course, would have been horrified to hear me say that. my Dragon would have been almost angry because he is the only one other than my daughter who knows where it comes from. forty plus years of being criticized modifies behavior. my Dragon was working with me to try to get me to see that though i am no Helen of Troy, i am his Helen. he loved the way i looked.

but he is not here anymore to defend me, even against myself.

my mother wanted me to look like Candace Bergen. i was close enough in my younger years for her to almost grasp the reality of this. but i failed. my ex started criticizing my looks when i got pregnant for the first time. "you're big." "you look awful." "are you having twins? what the hell? why do you look so big? why are your boobs getting so big?" after i had my children i did slim back down but then i didn't dress appropriately. "are you wearing that?" if i bought anything new, he would ask, "how much did that cost? why did you buy something? it's my money! you can't just go buy yourself a new blouse like that! not without permission!" so it was back to "why are you wearing that again? doesn't my mother deserve you to be better dressed than that?"

there was almost nothing left of me by the time i met my Dragon. i'm tired. i'm not grossly obese but i'm by no means a size zero. i have dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. and if you look into my eyes, you'll see stark terror, the accumulation of abuse over the decades, and the deep sadness of having had to say goodbye to a Dragon, my Dragon, of losing the finest man i'll ever know and the only one i'll ever want.

i'm ugly. both inside and out. i dislike people. i pretend they haven't hurt me. i am untrue to myself in that regard but i am not a confrontational person. i will never see myself again as i did when i saw myself in his eyes. Dragon's eyes. his smile that filled his Dragon's eyes is all i think about. and all i know is that i'm ugly without him.

3. "i feel so alone." i feel like i exist parallel to everyone else. i'm living. i'm here in full view but i am set apart. part of that is me pulling away. i can't afford to get hurt anymore. i have only the barest minimum left to work with here. i am struggling financially. destitute really. my ex-husband is doling out an allowance to me from the money he owes me that he withheld during the divorce because of it being "his money." i'm waiting on the government to process my Dragon's death benefits. "expect a 10 to 16 month waiting period." i make the quilts as fast as i humanly can and now that the wedding is over, i can fully concentrate on them but my son and ex tell me i'm not charging enough for all the work i put into them. "charge by the hour." then no one could afford me. "at least charge more for your quilts - double even if you can." i'm afraid to. i want the business. i need the business. what if no one will pay even half more? and yet i am fully aware that with all i put into the quilts, another quilter would charge so very much more.

i'm scared. i'm alone in these decisions. i know what my work is worth. i know what i charge is so i can acquire the assignment.

i'm terrified of the future. six months down the road. two years. six years. my ex did give me food money at the very end of the wedding. my daughter was so frustrated. when she left with her new husband, he had not given me the money but told her he would. she called from the road and he still had not and we were cleaning up after the reception. she called again later on when she had cell reception again to see if i had gotten food money and i had. i had had to draw him away to get it. he was pleasant. he was smiling. i had had to beg. he was happy. i was destroyed and miserable. i sold my soul for food.

i am alone.

that's as brief as i can be. my life hasn't turned pretty. it never came close. i never had a shot at a happily ever after except with my Dragon. and they took him away from me. they didn't see fit to let me have him for long. i got a taste of something so fine that i still have not found the words to describe it, even after all these posts. he was the most magical person. i can say that and you'll think, "well, of course she thinks that. she loved him deeply." but he was. he really was. he was the most magical person i've ever met or seen. people were naturally drawn to him. he was strong, appealing, and powerful. he had a aura that was visible and yet indefinable. he had survived so much war and he deserved such lasting peace. but i wanted that peace to be here on earth with me. at least for a while longer. 30 more years. was that too much to ask for? i just wanted 30 or 40 years with him. i wanted him so badly when we first met. i want him back so much.

i am glad my daughter's wedding is over. i felt so self conscious. a couple of remarks were made about my appearance. i was the only female at my own daughter's wedding who hadn't been to the beauty shop. i was the only one who didn't wear makeup. i worked like a dog through the whole thing. but she loved her day. she was blissfully happy with the small exception of her dad and the money, and missing our Dragon. everything was beautiful and exactly how she wanted it. she was so grateful. we hugged so tightly before she left.

it wasn't all i wanted for her but it was all i could swing. between using all my quilt money and begging her dad, i got her the wedding that she wanted simple though it was.

so this week, my son has promised to call more often. there are people i can call in an emergency. but for the most part, i will be very much alone. i won't be using my voice at all except to talk to my little Carmen Sophia and Scootie Wootums. my Scotties are happy to have me back here again full time. no more galavanting around for me. i'm housebound with no car and now no wedding to run errands for with my daughter. this week i won't get a day off. she's gone on her honeymoon and i'm very much alone for the first time since i got here. i'll walk to the library and to the grocery store monday with my fresh $100. i'll be relieved to be able to get quite a bit of food. in fact, i won't be able to carry it in one trip. i'll have to shop 2 days in a row to carry what i need back. i get tired of walking and carrying heavy stuff. it makes my hand and back hurt. but i need the walk to lose more weight and to "get out and get fresh air."

if it's possible, i miss him more than i ever did. i am settling into a deep depression that no pill can alter. this is grief defined harshly. this is something that has to be worked through in my heart and in my mind. i have to arrive at a place i will have to accept and become familiar with. i will be alone for the rest of my life.

time is moving forward and i'm crawling to keep up. but i keep looking back to the past and my memories of him. i keep looking off to the side, lost in my own little world where i am safe from remarks that hurt and i can pretend that he has just gone to the store. i keep looking forward, past anyone in my line of sight to see if i can see him waiting up there for me.

oh, please be waiting for me. i need to see that. i need to know that you are up there, my Dragon, my love. i'm so tired. i can't do this alone. i really can't. i'm the weak one. it should have been me.

interrupting my hiatus to bring you this poem

it's almost here. the wedding that has taken all my time and thoughts these last almost 2 weeks. i've been dreaming of my Dragon and missing him a lot, too much. i feel his absence more as the wedding draws closer. i'm back to not sleeping and i feel tired. so i write on any piece of paper i find by the bed so i don't have to get up.

i wrote this. it's a completely, fall down on my knees, self pity poem where every thought shines the light on how great he is - how great he was - is - was. i have no idea anymore. just because he isn't here doesn't mean he stopped being who he was - is - was. past tense is just so hard to admit to. i'm in sad shape.

when the Dragon smiled

she always returned with one of her own

but always in complete awe of his.

when the Dragon laughed

she delighted in the sound

that he shared only with her.

when the Dragon was deep in thought

she studied his face, his lines, his strength

and hoped his thoughts were of her.

when the Dragon spoke

she listened to his tone, his words,

and she fell in love all over again.

when the Dragon slept

she kept vigil with a quiet hand on his chest

and was calmed by the steady beats and his breath.

when the Dragon loved her

she believed in the forever she found

in his great arms and gentle eyes.

and when the Dragon died

she saw her world torn apart

and her soul left without it's other half.

as time has gone on, without her Dragon

she has been felled with the burden of carrying on

while missing her Dragon, wanting him, loving him.

and now, back to the wedding.

friend request ~ denied

There is a commercial for gum that uses that phrase: friend request ~ accepted; friend request ~ denied.

It is no secret that I am in a situation of being utterly alone due to the way life worked out for me. The only chance for getting to know anyone has been through the widow’s group.

It’s hard being the odd man, or woman, out. People have lives here. They have friends from work, church, neighborhood, from lives spent living here and the opportunities they had to develop friendships. They are busy with children, work, grief, extended family, finding new loves, etc. I am new and I have no car to go to church, to join any other group, to go to see anyone when possibly something gets planned. I have to depend on my daughter for a ride or the generosity of others.

I don’t know if my grief is worse for not getting to sit with someone face to face to tell my story, to talk about my Dragon, to feel someone in the room who sympathizes, to have someone simply hold my hand or pat me on the back when I can’t stop crying.

I took one woman's advice from the group and walked to another widow's group meeting. I have tried to find friends there, people to meet to connect with. It has been anything but easy. And after today's phone call, I am not walking down there again. I am too tired. Come what may, I am just spent working this hard to find someone to try to become friends with.

There was one woman who started out being pretty good. I called her only once when in need of someone to talk to about my Dragon and my grief. She was busy at the time but she did call back a few days later to check on me. I didn’t call again, but I have to admit I’ve emailed about four times since I met her a few months ago. Not over the top harassment. But maybe it was too much for her. Maybe it was too needy. The last time she called me she explained she was very busy with her children and the new man in her life. She is starting a new chapter with a new love and I represent grief. She told me I frighten her by my being so alone. What if it happened to her? She has not been alone, she said, telling me that she has surrounded herself with her family and friends and has not spent one single night alone in all the few years since her husband has been gone. She does not understand how I can stand it. She feels “creepy” talking to me. It felt creepy hearing that.

I do it because I have no choice. I kept my voice even and kind when I told her she was blessed with so many friends and so much family. I told her it was okay, that I understood her change of heart, what she termed as her “discomfort” in talking to me. What else could I say? I can’t force someone to become a friend.

There has been another woman who called and called and then fell silent. I called her once and she was very excited about getting together, very determined and exacting with her plans for us, day, time, but she stood me up. I called her the next day to check to make sure she was all right. She was. A friend had called and wanted to go to the beach. It had sounded like more fun. She loves the beach. I told her I did to, that I very much understood the pull of the ocean. She made another plan to call. She hasn’t called. I haven’t tried calling her. It would be hard to hear her excitement for us to get together, and then wait for the phone to ring and it doesn’t.

One other woman. She has contacted me because she feels that I shouldn’t be alone. She thinks it’s very sad. She had had so many friends around her when her husband died. She knows the comfort of telling someone your story. She wants to hear mine. She wants to know about my Dragon, “whatever you want to talk about.” She was very verbose and eloquent in her emails back and forth setting up our lunch meeting. She’s planning on coming to pick me up and take me to a fabric store she knows about. She first wants to come up to see all that I’m working on personally. She loves creative people. She also loves my photographs.

She called today and spoke of my bringing my camera to take photos of her garden. She’d like to see what I “come up with.” I, of course, acquiesced. She’s coming to get me, after all. It’s not a problem. I love taking photos. Then she hesitated and said, “Of course I’m very busy so I know you of all people will understand if I need to cancel at the last minute. We can always set up the session in the garden for another time. Of course, I’ll still provide lunch. Then we can talk. Besides,” she continued, “fall is a beautiful time with the leaves changing colors.” She knows I’ll do a good job.

Our luncheon had become a session. I might be misunderstanding her wording but I’m guessing this isn’t about friendship so much as a photo session.

I sighed. I said, “Not a problem. I’m always here. Working. You can reach me anytime.”

She told me she knew that, that that was why she had felt so lucky to have met me and seen my photographs. She likes my style. Then she thanked me and rang off.

To the empty air, I said, “Not a problem. I’m always here. Working. You can reach me anytime.”

No one has to tell me that I need to cut these women slack. I know that they are dealing with their grief. For them it ranges from 3 years grieving to over 5 years. They are doing the best that they can with their feelings, wishes, desires, just the getting through each day without their spouses, and with the one, adjusting her family and friends to her new love. But why take me only so far and then drop me? If they cannot do it, do not feel any connection, why call me? And for the one, why tell me I am creepy because I am forced to live a very solitary life? It hurt to hear that. I know, more than any of them, what my life has become. Creepy is a very descriptive word.

I need to try to shake that word. If my Dragon knew about this, you would have heard his roar. He always tried to protect me, and if he couldn't, he was always there for me to crawl to and be comforted. Now I just talk to him but I can't hear his reply.

I love the ocean. I love Fall. I love Winter. I love my Dragon. Oh, how I miss him. All he wanted from me was love. And my eccentricities were never a problem for him. He was always there. He always wanted to be.

hard dreaming, mortality, Split-Second Single Father, and Widower Howe

the first photo is because of something Split-Second Single Father wrote and my story of the photo I'll get to in a minute.

my sleeping habits have gone to H-E double L since my Dragon died. i am in physical pain from arthritis and from stress. i ache more now for reasons i will only tell you are this: he's gone and everything is magnified.

i have been working myself so very hard on the Memory Quilts and the sewing for my daughter's wedding. i told myself that on his birthday, back on August 5th, and on our wedding anniversary, back on August 11th, that i would take a break and work on my own Husband Quilt, try to get it finished for myself through both those days, but i didn't touch it. the top is done and i showed it to chillingwithlemonade when she stopped by for her pillow and grey sock dog but, well, i haven't finished it yet. it's become more wall art that a true wrap-around me quilt. i'll take all his t-shirts and make me one of those later on. but back to the reason for taking a break to write.

i was exhausted and took a short nap, a "snap" if you will, after eating lunch while working with Photoshop on my daughter's wedding program. (see, i can multi-task with the youngest of them.) now i've taken "snaps" before but this one is the first one where i woke myself up crying. i heard a sound and thought it was one of my Scotties but, it was me. crying. for the Dragon.

i was disoriented after i woke up but somehow through my dreams i'd figured out how to make my daughter's wedding gloves. on the aside, has anyone had to price lace wedding gloves yet? oh my stars above. they cost that much, all the stars above. (note to Split-Second Single Father - start saving.) i woke up with it all figured out - how to make them from my old wedding veil. "something old."

but in my disorientation i felt waves of panic. when i die, wait, what if i die very soon? before i get it all done? and then i thought, what if i can't find him? it was wave upon wave of panic and not the good waves of warm ocean water that can bring about bliss. these were frightening crashes over my fragile psyche and i cried so hard i gave myself a headache. stupid. so stupid to my rational mind and yet, when it comes to missing my Dragon, i'm emotional. all emotion. hence the second photo. i took it solely for this day's writing. as with the third photo.

my Dragon, had be been here, would have comforted me. he would have catered to my iced tea-aholicism and then finger-combed my hair. he would have sat with me and held my hand and talked to me. he always knew i suffered from an overly creative mind. a curse and a blessing. it helps me create things but it also takes me down very dark roads. "she's insane? she's an artist? ahhhh. therein lies the answer."

now for the first photo. this one is for all of us and the catalyst comes from Split-Sec. Single Father and also from criticism i've received for "not getting over it" as fast as some think i should. i should be "further along." well, since i cannot curse here, then i say "go away. i don't need you and here's the story of Widower Howe."

the Widower Howe lived in the town where i lived during the majority of my 20 years with my first husband. it is a rural little town in southern New Hampshire with lots of cows, horses, apple orchards, and a feed store. the center of town had the general store called the "Common Cracker," the library, the Feed Store, the church where 3 faiths alternated services every weekend, and then the fancy, rich people's houses. around the center of town no building is younger than 75 years old.

Widower Howe and his wife Esther were born in the same month in the same hospital in the neighboring larger city. they grew up 1/2 a mile apart and married when they were both 21, her father's request. she gave him 5 children, 3 boys and 2 girls and died in 1947 from a sudden and unknown heart condition. Widower Howe was understandably bereft. seventeen years of marriage and at the age of 38, he was alone to finish raising their children.

by that time, though he was a prosperous man having bought into the only feed store in town called, yes, you got it, The Feed Store. he owned it outright and was an expert on grasses, grains, and food for horses and cattle. you could get dog food and supplies there and on the side he had taught his sons carpentry and two of them went into business together starting with bird houses and eventually going into building homes for people. one of his sons was a United States Marine who was killed in Korea. his daughters married boys there in town and never lived far from him. basically he had all his children close and kept his Marine son's ashes on the mantle along with his flag and photograph all the time i knew of it. now his eldest daughter has carried on the tradition.

Widower Howe, for that's how he got to be called, never remarried. he never dated. he never tried. women tried, but his eyes were only on the horizon. that's what one of the old men who sat "cutting wood" on the porch of The Feed Store would say. ("i don't whittle, i cut wood with my pocket knife." though i did ask to buy a little bird he "cut." he gave it to me for simply noticing him in a kind way. sweet old man. - you can see why i loved this town.) "Widower Howe keeps his eyes on the horizon for that's where she is a'waitin'."

when he died in 2004, my Dragon and i went, along with the entire town, to Widower Howe's funeral. the pastor who spoke said, "Widower Howe is 95 years old and for each one of those years, he was a kind and gracious man who always took care of his family and friends. he extended credit when times were hard and he carried folks for longer than their own relatives would. Widower Howe never got over the untimely death of his beloved Esther, but we can all take comfort that he's joined her now. he was lonely for 57 years. Widower Howe is lonely no more."

i want to find my Dragon like i like to believe, along with everyone else, that Widower Howe found his Esther. i want to be back in his arms again. i want to rest and sleep safe with his great and strong wings surrounding me. i want his breath on my neck and his whispered words in my ear.

i want to quietly grieve for him and wait for him with the same courtesy that all of that tiny, rural town allowed Widower Howe to grieve and wait for his wife. we say very often that "no one gets it." they don't have to "get it." they just need to "leave it alone."

you are what you leave behind

my husband died. it's the first thing i think of when i feel the need to convey thoughts out to anyone. i feel the need to get that out there so as to explain why i'm sitting in front of the computer and typing anything to anyone.

i was never this lonely, to be drawn to sit at a computer. my life didn't revolve around a computer beyond checking email, balancing my accounts with the bank, and visiting my children's Facebook or Myspace sites to see the new folder of photos they set up for me. i don't mind computers but they were never the focus of my life. i don't believe in artificial intelligence. when a computer binges then goes to the bathroom to throw up because it thinks it's too fat, then i'll believe in artificial intelligence. why would i sit on a computer searching for people to talk to when i had everyone i ever needed? no one but my children and my husband cared about what i thought or was thinking or feeling. but my husband died and i am alone. my children have their busy adult lives and they don't need me like they used to. they are raised. they're done. the advice i have given out lately is that it's okay that the chicken cooked a little bit when they used the microwave to thaw it and if you haven't, at some point, thought about picking up your handy copy of "War and Peace" and beating someone over the head with it there's been no real relationship.

i am existing each day and wondering where do i go from here? my home is not a house where i can paint the walls or go outside to a little yard to garden. i don't need to fuss over hydrangeas that are sitting in a row by a beautiful little fence. i don't have a gate to open to walk a path to ocean's edge.

most of all i fully realize i don't have him to talk to. he's not here to come sit beside me and coax me out from behind my book, or up from my sewing to go walk with him, do something with him, not even to go to the grocery store to pick out something for supper. i see his shoes in the closet and i know he won't be using them anymore but to give them away or toss them would be akin to an act of treason. it's cruel and it's so simple. the more i try to hold onto him, the less i have to hold onto. he's gone. all i have are my memories and i'm told that he will someday become a sweet moment of sadness that passes by as i go on about my day. i take what other's, who have had their spouse die, tell me and try to see if it can be applied to my own life. then i think, maybe i'm not there yet. i keep filling in the cracks that open up because of this grief and as soon as i address one, the next one is starting to open.

the facilitator of the group asked, what have i learned and what would i say to someone else.

as of now i've learned that i can be in debilitating pain, cry an ocean of tears, barely be able to catch my breath, dream of a dragon of a man who was one in one hundred million, and still be called alive.

what i would say to someone else is you are what you leave behind. everything you do and everything you say, however small, has ripples that affect the world in a lasting way. toss a pebble in a small pond and the ripples glance off a twig, submerging it for the length of time it takes to blink, and possibly a dragonfly dies.

i wonder if it had been me that had died would he sit and remember all the times throughout each day that i said "i love you" and if he would become quiet and introspective. i wonder if he would flash on one of the countless of times i sat beside him, looked at him, and would reach up my fingers to touch his mustache and stroke his beard and say, "you're so pretty" in a hushed, meaningful whisper that held my reverence for him. i wonder if he would become remote and unreachable in his grief over the death of his woman that he rescued from the shadows.

he gave me belief in love. he gave me his medals and his stories. he gave me his undivided attention. he gave me his hand to hold and his heart to keep safe. i was going to die in his arms just as he died in mine but we were going to be so old that it would be expected, even desired. but by God, we were going to be together. whoever went first, the other would not be long behind. but now? this situation now? what do i do now? what do i live for now?

my children are worth living for but i don't matter in the way i did when i was their whole world. that's the way it's supposed to be. i did my job with them. i raised them, guided them, taught them, protected them, and now i've set them free.

and my husband, i lived for him, for his smiles, his love, and now i still live for him only death took him but it won't let me go. it's not like holding onto a kite or a child. kite strings break and children grow up. but the death of my husband, my Dragon, my life? how do i let go of that and if i try, it doesn't let me go. he is here and so alive in my heart, the love i feel for him, so alive with no where to go. i can't reach over and touch his face. i can't see him blush with my adoration that he secretly thrived on.

i've buried my parents, my grandparents, my stepmother, and a baby. you never really know what death will make you do or feel. how do you define it that you can set up a curriculum for bereavement classes? how to you try to reach past all the pain and fit the pieces of a solitary life together when it seems they are way too broken to bother? is this the result of the half-year milestone, his birthday, and our wedding anniversary all rolled into one horrible conflagration of anguish today, yesterday, the day before, the week before, and possibly tomorrow?

where do i go from here? i have no extended family. i have no friends. i work at home alone, and i like it. i can't face having to rise and dress and go out into the world knowing i don't have a Dragon at my back. i love being the artist. but it's all that i am. all i am now is the mother of two wonderful children whom i was blessed to have been given. all i am now is the maker of the quilts, the designer, the artist, an unknown woman in the shadows who frequently puts her head in her hands and sobs. all i am is the Dragon's widow.

all i wanted to be was his wife.

we are what we leave behind. i truly believe that. some have huge wakes and plaque dedications, people gathered to support the family - siblings, parents, wife, husband, children of the deceased - all milling around, all calling and remembering the important days you have to face alone. i have my two children who gifted me with the two bracelets with our wedding date engraved and brief, heartfelt sentiments dedicated to a love that impressed them and left them with the benchmark they want their own loves to be.

he left me with so much love to still give him. i'll die and my passing won't be noted by anyone but my two children. i have left no mark on the world. my quilts, yes, but my desired presence in a room, no. only he and my two children cared. we lead our lives and when they end we leave behind a bit of ourselves. possibly money. a few quilts maybe. so many medals that people are surprised - a Navy Cross, 3 Silver Stars, 2 Bronze Stars, and 6 Purple Hearts and that's the first row - i told you my Dragon was a hero. a kind word and deed remembered - specifically from chillinwithlemonade who stopped by one evening with take-out Mexican food and an alcohol-free Margarita on a night that i wouldn't have eaten otherwise. my girl, you your kindness was seen and noted and will be remembered always. (if i knew how to make a link to your site i would do so for you but i am not that savvy.)

sometimes we leave an empty space. if after i have gone, anyone notes my absence, know that i have gone in search of my Dragon. if anyone can truly wait for someone to catch up, it is him.