Parallel universes. Time continuums. Beyond the veil. Those places where energy, which exists ad-infinitum, possibly continues to exist even after death. Where those we love who have died, might exist still.
I think of all such possibilities in an effort to find a connection with Chuck, wondering if I might see him again. Someday. In some way.
There’s another world, however, that exists along with those worlds, having nothing to do with Chuck's world and where he might exist, but my world and where I have existed since his death; a world that feels mostly fuzzy to me, as if there is a veil between me and everything, and everyone, else.
Bizarro world. As in the Seinfeld episode where Elaine met people who were exactly like Jerry et al, but opposite. You can find it on a rerun, I’m certain.
I lie in my bed at night, whether in my T@b trailer, or visiting family or friends, and I stare into the darkness and wonder how is it that I’m here and he isn’t?
When I’m on the road, camping somewhere around the country, and I walk around the campsite at night, in this outdoor world that is still so alien to me (maybe alien at this point only because it is so bizarre that this is my life and who the hell would have ever figured such a circumstance as me camping?), I wonder what the fuck happened? How is it that I’m here living this life when this is not my life? Because this isn’t me. Or at least it isn’t the me that I was or ever imagined. Ever. Believe me.
These thoughts, and I suppose I can take comfort of some sort as a result of them, are the same type of thoughts that haunt the minds of every man and woman who grieves the death of their partner/spouse. I know this not only because I hear it from so many but because I cannot possibly be the only one who feels this way; my grief isn't unique.
I don’t feel of this world and yet I am of this world. But not the world I knew for 24 years and the dissonance in that clash makes me feel even more not of this world. Taking steps, creating a new life, walking, talking..all the things other people do, but so removed, really.
Sometimes, as I go about my day, in and out of stores, appointments, driving... I’ll glance around and catch hair-trigger images of Chuck over there. Or there. In the way of a sci-fi type movie, where holographic images of a person will appear, then disappear in a blink, confusing the character who sees them because it is so quick that by the time the eye sees and the mind comprehends, the image is gone. In these glimpses, Chuck is always wearing his blue denim shirt with his jeans and boots.
In a so-called normal world, I suppose that this might cause concern, but there is nothing normal about my world of grief (or anyone’s world of grief.) But really…I’ve learned to just roll with whatever happens because this world without him is such a bizarro world to me. I don’t recognize myself, I don’t recognize my life, I have no sense of self or ego. I have no idea of how this new unwanted life without him will develop. (Who does, in reality, know anything about our futures? We can plan but we all know how that too frequently works out).
Sgt. Schultz. Remember him, from Hogan’s Heroes? He was famous for the phrase “I know nothing. I see nothing.”
I know nothing. In the deepest, most esoteric, Buddhist, zen way. I see nothing, and I’m okay with that, because I am uncertain about everything and I have no energy to waste in even feeling anxious about it. Everything in life is impermanent and transitory. It can change in a fucking instant and whatever I thought I knew might no longer be so. So why think about it? (cue Scarlett O’Hara).
My world of without him. One of constant change and uncertainty and searching. None of which is good or bad, really. It’s the world I live in and I have no definition for it. It is a world of numbness, grief, effort, love abounding, new connections, one foot in front of the other and horizons yet unexplored that cause no excitement but do hold space. And I don’t want it but must create it because I’m still here. And it causes untold anguish that I have no certainty, or belief in a certainty, of ever seeing Chuck again and I think that even if I do, the energy will be different and will he be able to put his arms around me and will I be able to hug him again? (That kind of thinking is why I’m awake at night.)
I miss his arms around me and the sound of his heartbeat under my ear as I rest against him and I know nothing any longer and this bizarro world without him is a world that leaves me dizzy, as if I’m standing in the middle of a galaxy with all the stars and planets swirling and dancing around me and meteors shooting directly through me, leaving fiery marks of destruction but its kind of alright in a weird way that is not at all alright but has to be alright because it’s what is, at this moment.
Am I a total fucking mess or have I attained the perfect Zen state? Hmmm….