Becalmed and Adrift~

It is as if I am a ship that is becalmed in the ocean.

Stillness all around me, even as I am aware of movement and chatter around me.

But my world seems still.  Even as it moves around me.

Doldrums is the term used to describe the ocean when the winds have disappeared and ships lay still.  I’ve read of sailor’s accounts of the eeriness of such an event.

The strange thing about both of these terms, as I use them to describe me and my widow life, are that they aren’t actually true, I suppose.

I’ve been in motion continually in these 4 years since Chuck died.  And the world around me has certainly continued moving.

It just doesn’t feel that way to me.

So much has happened in the world, in big and small ways, since Chuck died, regarding world events and, most certainly, personally.  Kids married, grandkids born, more people dying…life, right?

Maybe I’ve adapted to this new world…I know it seems that way to anyone who interacts with me.  And I don’t necessarily disagree that I have.  We must, because life doesn’t stop for us and we have to make a living and be with those around us.

But the insides…my insides…they haven’t changed. 

The trauma is no longer front and center; it seems to have taken a quiet seat in the back.  My heart that misses Chuck so much, quietly aches as I go about my day.  His absence is ever present.  I’m sad inside, even as I’m engaging in life.

Overall, life is still kind of meaningless to me.  Oh, not my Love for my kids and grands and friends.  Of course not. But those relationships have little to do with missing my husband.  Those relationships don’t replace him or fill the spot where he stood.  I know you understand that.

I keep busy and seek out hard physical labor that exhausts me so that I don’t have to think and I’m able to sleep at night a bit more.

All strides towards healing, many would say.

The thing is, whatever is outside, isn’t inside.  I’m tired in so many ways, mostly from being without him, from being alone, doing life alone.

I’m adrift on an ocean with no motion to move the waves.  I don’t feel anchored to anything, you know?

So, I’m just letting myself be where I am. I’m okay with being adrift, because I have no idea where I want to go, in any case.  I’m okay that the ocean is still and quiet around me.

In this world of widowhood, where nothing is okay, I’m kind of okay within that.

Just let me drift…


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  • commented 2017-05-27 19:38:20 -0700
    My case is different but equally frustrating.

    When I married my wife, I at 44 and she at 36, I deeply desired to have children with her. But after her third miscarriage, she couldn’t take the emotional stress of being happily pregnant only to loose the baby. I confess that I wasn’t at first happy with this. But you do what you must for the person you love, so we decided to be happy in each other’s love.

    In December 2015 my wife was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer. She received treatment and fought the desease for 11 months. For a beautiful but brief period of two months, we thought she was cured. We had some great plans!

    Yet in just a couple of months, her cancer came roaring back and took my beautiful wife from me in just 4 months.

    I am now a grieving 54 year-old widower. Friends have told me that it’s possible for me to still have children. Well, technicality, duh! But realistically?

    Here’s a mental exercise; you meet a 5’ 6" guy who was happily married for 10 years (ergonisnt aftraid of commitment), is financially set (I no longer have to work), full head of hair, and fit(I either row or jog). Other than not having Clint Eastwood tallness, that’s all good news for a woman in her mid-30’s who wants to start a family. Except for one little thing.

    I’m 54. I have some grey hair.

    I am learning that I have better prospects of landing on Mars, mind you, I’m not an astronaut, than finding a smart, educated woman who’d consider even just dating an “old man.”

    I guess what’s needed is a relationship site for people like us, who’ve lost our significant other but want to still try to meet the right person and have a family, a site that has good filters and is merciless at weeding-out those just playing around.

    In the meantime, we’re in a holding paterrn watching precious time tick-away. And it’s no fun!
  • @soaringspirits tweeted this page. 2017-05-23 19:22:21 -0700

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