"i won't ever leave you."

"listen to the soothing sound of my words...."  someone just wrote that to me.  she told me i was brave.  i snorted when i read that.  if only you knew how afraid i am, truly, deep down inside.  but how i handle things, only knowing me of what i write here, well, everyone has opinions and perceptions. 


i wrote that i am not brave.  i am existing, not truly living.  i take each day as it comes.  i have not done anything that would show "improvement" from those first months.  i am still slumpy.  i am still self-pitying.  i am crawling through this sludge of grief by myself and i keep thinking, this person will have insight they can share.  oh, no, they have other things to do.  that person will stay with me for a bit through this.  oh, no, they are moving on to other things, other people, other projects.  okay, this person will write to me.  oh, no, things turned upside down and what started out strong just as suddenly stopped.

i cannot afford grief counseling.  i cannot afford a sounding board of a person.  so i make do by using this as my sounding board.  i walk myself through my feelings.  i do not have a friend to call on.  i work too many hours that change every week to maybe take a class to meet anyone.  i cannot depend on any consistent day off.  so i am alone in this.  after the two widows retreat thingys i've tried, {far too early in my grief journey to be anything but slumpy and mournful and exhausted and who wants to hang with that on a fabulous weekend of empowerment} and {far too busy processing and analyzing and writing about it to earn my way to feel like i connected with anyone},  i don't think i can try those again.  i am spent, worn out, whipped and embarrassed at being the widow retreat epic failure. 


how could i get a more positive experience from them?  one that lasted beyond so that i get the warm fuzzies when i think back?


i think it was because i didn't feel like i could be myself.  i could only be myself with him.


and now here is someone asking me to "listen to the soothing sounds of my words."  and i am nervous about trusting.  the words are nice and kind and very well placed.  seems rights.  feels nice.  i'll just take it slow.


but i would love to listen to someone tell me it's all going to be okay.  i would love to believe that what i am feeling - still; what i am going through - still, is normal - still.  i would love to lay my head back against the sofa and close my eyes, listen to the sounds of a cup of tea being made, and the words falling softly and gently upon my ear.  "you are brave.  you are going to make it.  you are a nice person.  i will be your friend."  would that life would let me have something like that.

but life is a journey and i guess i had my friend when i had him.  i had my love and my fun and my brief chance at happiness.  some people don't get 8 years of that.  some people don't even get one.

she said it is obvious that my soul hurts.  oh, God it hurts.  so badly.  so deeply.  i don't think i can come up with the words.  or maybe there are too many and i am afraid to start.  or i don't know where to start.  it has felt like such a long life and yet, i am really not that old.  i am only 54 and i feel 1000.  my husband told me once that when i would "go into myself," retreat to try and recenter myself, i had that 1000 yard stare he had seen in some men after a firefight.  it always broke his heart that i had known so much darkness.  he would let me lay my head in his lap and he would rub my forehead, fingercomb my hair and he would say, "i wish i could take the memories from you."

all i ever wanted was him.  all i ever wanted was a small life with a man who could love me.  and for a very brief time, i got that.  for a brief, shining moment, i had Camelot. 

i lay down at night now and i am lost in the pain.  there are times i can fall asleep and not think about anything, but my mind is, i don't know, too fast, too analytical, too much it's own entity......my brain has a mind of it's own.  the old psychology 101 experiment:  "don't think about the white polar bear."  and then how can you not think of it?  when you try so hard to be normal, to heal, to mend yourself by yourself, tell yourself, "for Heaven's sake it's been 3 and a half years.  move on.  do something with yourself.  other people have made changes.  others are writing about all they do, all they go see, their new lives and adventures; and for some, even their new loves"  but i cannot.  we were so involved with each other.  we weren't those people who finished each other's sentences.  we started out saying the exact same thing at the same time.

he is the mighty ocean drawn to my quiet beach.

he was my second husband.  he was my soul mate.  he was the one who found me in the blackest room and brought me out into the light.  he tried so hard to set me free of the flashbacks.  and then one night, lit by the silver, coldness of the brightest moon, whoosh!  gone from me.  literally gone in minutes.  so fast.  i could not save him which meant i could not save me.

how do i get over watching the life leave his eyes?  my mind hates me.  i suddenly flash on his eyes going blank.  going dull.  him just ..... going.  how do i get over watching him die like that and no amount of CPR could save him?

i want to be better.  i am trying.  i am fighting for it.  i work so hard at work.  i come back here and work so hard on other people's things.  i pretend i am normal.  i fake normalcy.  i am exhausted.  i want to do what other people are doing.  i want to take trips.  i want to go out with friends and have just a couple of hours to forget.  i want to laugh and enjoy one day, one afternoon; just have an evening where i can relax and be free of worry and pain and loneliness.  i'd love to sit and talk about loss and death and what it takes from us with someone who understands.  i want that black, morbid humor to rise up and the both of us laugh while tears fall.  i wish i could find a kindred spirit.

but what i really want is to be with him again.  i want to be with him in that space and time where the world could not encroach and try to hurt us, worry us, take from us the serenity of us simply being together. 

i am in mourning.  i am melancholy.  i seem to be making a career choice here.  artist.  bear builder.  widow.  not necessarily in that order.

i will always be, metaphorically, that woman {angel} draped over the tomb.  i will never get over this.  but i will keep going.

so new person who is writing to me, offering me soothing words and kind thoughts; you think you know but you don't.  you cannot know how humbly grateful i am for what you are saying.  it sounds nice.  thank you for writing.  i will take what i can get for as long as it lasts, and i won't find fault when you stop and move on to another project.  i know i am not truly salvageable.  not all the pieces are there anymore.


and somewhere out in the wild beyond a Dragon is saying,  

"aw, Baby, aw, my little Beach Bunny, come lie down here with me and let me rub your head and tell you how much i love you.  you're doing so great.  i am so proud of you.  aw, Baby, i wish i could take it all away.  but i'm here now and i won't ever leave you.  i promise.

i won't ever leave you alone."

Soul Widows Spiritual Retreat ~ Nine ~ Sunday ~ Finis

this is the 9th and final posting i will make to conclude this series i have done on the Soul Widows Spiritual Retreat. i purposely ended at 9 because in numerology, 9 is sacred. it is considered the Holy Trinity times 3. it is seems to represent 9 positive characteristics: selflessness, fulfillment, completion, universality, universal understanding, interrelatedness, compassion, idealism, tolerance, forgiveness, generosity, benevolence, humanitarianism, emotionalism, and justice. these were all things spoken of to one degree or another through the weekend, so i end this series at 9.

it has also been very emotional for me to pull all this out of myself and lay it here for public consumption, far beyond the security of the tribe. 21 months milestone passed and my Dragon is still gone. i miss him and will until i, myself, pass. but in writing persistently to get this all said, of how meaningful and near-perfect this weekend was, it has helped that 21 month milestone pass without the mournful flood of tears that come on the 8/9 of each month.

Sunday dawned and i was up early. more private photos of small things that have meaning. i was ready and waiting for the last sessions that were coming. another was to join us for the day, the Fiery Fairy's partner in their counseling business, in friendship, in everything women share when they are sisters and kindred spirits. she is our veteran. she has been a widow for 21 years. there was a collective gasp. she still lived. she had survived.

there was so much to ask her. there was her story to listen to. she had fallen apart as we all had. it was good to know that this strong woman sitting with us had melted onto the floor of her life when her husband had died. we were not weak. we were normal.

the sharing was extraordinary. i listened with awe at the strength in this woman's voice. i saw the extraordinary kinship our Fiery Fairy has with this friend and business partner. they were sympatico. the set up was perfect. we had befriended and bonded with our Fiery Fairy and then here comes the, by our standards, Matriarch of Grief and Joy by the sheer number of years she has lived with sorrow. her spine is strong. her hands full of expression. her eyes, yes, there is grief etched there, but also joy and laughter. she is living, which is beyond existing which some of us are doing at this time. but we are infants compared to 21 years.

when we broke for lunch, our Matriarch of Grief and Joy and our Fiery Fairy had shown us hope.

hope was waiting for us, for me. i knew it was possible and walking out of the restaurant after lunch, the sun gave a visual to remind me. {if that had been Dragon who had not known i had stopped to take a picture, he would have asked me, "what did you see?" when i caught up to him.}

we went back to the alcove and the next exercise was to say one word, or a hyphenated word about each other. we gifted each other with a name of sorts. you read mine for everyone in the posting about The Women. and now i presented our Matriarch of Grief and Joy. it was a moving exercise. i was the last to be named and i admit i was sweating. my hands were trembling. i have been called many names, and until the name "mom," and until my Dragon, and since his death, they have all been bad. and i have accepted it silently. but did not know what words would fall from the mouths of the tribe.

i will not tell you other than to say i was overwhelmed with humbleness. they really saw something in me that was good and decent. i like the word decent better than beautiful. beauty fades with time but decency is steadfast. i cried a bit. i did not know what to do with the words other than to hold them close for a time. i never know what to do with a compliment other than to silently nod and accept.

from outside the alcove, this exercise may have seemed silly, new-agey, a tree-hugger moment, but that thought would only cross a closed mind and a shallow heart. giving someone a name is a gift. in some cultures, there is a whole ceremony involved and the tribe turns out for it. your name is all you are and all you carry with you when you die. names are important. it is how others see you. screw the machines. it is instant feedback and you will react physiologically. your heart will race as you wait. your palms will sweat. your actions are not hidden and they speak to who you are. you will be named.

at our closing, our Fiery Fairy gave us a gift of a coffee mug to remind us of Tryon, the village. she also gave us a rose from her small daughter, a fairy to be sure. as ephemeral as childhood is and the innocence that is its gift, i think our Fairy's daughter will grow to be a woman like her mother. she wanted us to have a flower. and our Fairy found roses. red roses. in the language of flowers the meaning was not lost on me, hence the tissue box beside Bunny.
i received another gift. this one from our Matriarch of Grief and Joy. she is going to be my counselor for a brief time, before she has to move at the beginning of the summer. but she will be there through the holidays, through my birthday, and his death and funeral anniversary on Valentine's Day. she is doing this for me and i am speechless. when i think "what if." what if i had not gone. what if i had stayed locked inside myself while i was there. but the smallness of the group was perfect for bringing one such as me out of herself enough to register that i was actually there.

i hope and pray that my words reach out to other widows who may be looking for something like this organization. Soul Widows is small. i believe it will grow, but i know Elizabeth and our Fiery Fairy will keep the groups small so that intimate secrets can be spoken of in safety. they will continue on the path they have chosen because there are women out there who need to cling for a time. they cannot fall so hard and then get right up. they are not immediately empowered by their loss as to move in an aggressively positive forward direction. some women have a difficult time with that transition from wife to widow. they will need a tight sisterhood. they need a clan. they will find they crave becoming part of a tribe of women who only need look at sorrowful eyes and trembling hands that think they can wring the stress away alone.

no. you cannot. alone in the world. read it again. alone. in. the. world. it sounds like the title of a Wes Craven film. horror. fear. terror. we are not alone in the world. there are many foundations and organizations out there. Soul Widows was what i needed. i needed a candle for my husband and our love. i needed Elizabeth and her gift that allowed me to come. i needed the Clown of God to push me over the wall i had built so that i could laugh without restraint. i needed to meet the Goddess Diana to see the passion for justice and know that it is right to fight for yourself and damn the world for setting it up that way. i needed to meet the Ceramic Storyteller so that i could share my own history of the Angel Cards and how i used them with my own children during bad times, and to listen to her and validate her fierce mother's heart. i needed the Disciple of Grace to steadfastly keep reminding me that it is safe to call her Friend. i needed someone like our Fiery Fairy to show me that there are counselors out there, people, women who truly care and have made it their life's work to save us; to find us and save us all if she can. and to meet the Matriarch of Grief and Joy so that i have a hand to reach out to, to see that i will be able to talk and learn, to cry and find strength, and to know that i do not have to stay silent and alone. i now have a tribe of sisters to whom i can call to.

~

this weekend, Soul Widows showed me a way towards the light. Elizabeth and our Fiery Fairy, the entire tribe helped me see that there is a light out there for me. no, it is not the headlight of the oncoming train. but even if it is, i will not face it alone.

the light for me maybe still be veiled by my stress and grief and worry and anxiety and mourning, but the warmth it offers, the freedom beyond the curtains is worth fighting for.
never give up. "improvise, adapt, overcome." the Marine Corps motto. well, one of them. my Dragon never gave up, even when he was dying. i am not giving up. i never was, but now i know that i will have a tribe to call to when i am on my knees.

my love for my Dragon is set in stone. i cannot imagine any other standing beside me as i contemplate eternity. he was a powerful life force on Earth and now that his soul is set free, oh, my.....imagine what he is feeling and doing and seeing now that his great love of adventure is free to go wherever. Heaven. the Universe. joining St. Michael the Archangel and his Warrior Gang of Fierce Angels. my Dragon would join them and their fight for us all.
i love him. i love my children. i love my sisters. i love our Fairy and our Matriarch. i had said i would never love again, but when i wrote that in the intensity of my grief i was forgetting that there are many ways to love.

thank you to Elizabeth. thank you to our Fiery Fairy. thank you to our Matriarch of Grief and Joy. thank you to all the women of the tribe who accepted me and thought good things about me, and told me so.

~~

p.s. to all who read, please note, that the colors over the words Soul Widows and Angel Cards are hyperlinks to find the website and to find the cards. the Angel Cards, mostly to make sure our Ceramic Storyteller has it.

peace to all who read. peace and light to all who grieve.