Waiting

09_27_10.jpgThis is the part no one tells you about. This is the part that many do not know. When your spouse dies, you are left with a void, a big void. Your mind constantly reminds you that he is gone, and that what lies before you is an existence that must begin without him. The only problem is, how do you do this? And, what exactly is this new existence like? For me it's about waiting.

When my husband Michael died I was not surprised. After all, the doctors told us two year prior that he would in fact die. We spoke of it often. We prepared for it legally and emotionally. When it happened I was thrown off course. All the talking and planning didn't prepare me for an existence without him. In those first few weeks I sat on my living room couch in shock. Hours went by, and there I sat. I sometimes imagined that I was sitting on a bench, waiting for a bus to come by. I would board the bus, and it would take me away, away from my new existence. I knew that it wouldn't take me to Michael, that part I understood. I just needed it to take me away from where I was, which was feeling lost.

It's been 11 months now, and still I wait. No, I don't sit on my couch all day long anymore. I do have my kids to tend to, but at night, I do sit and wait. I'm waiting for a sign that tells me which way to go. There is no bus that will be arriving, so if I want to move forward I must chart the course myself. And to be honest with myself, I have started this movement. Yet, there is still so much that I am lacking. There is still so much that lacks meaning for me. So I wait. From my bedroom window I can see the city lights. They tell me that life continues to move forward. But tonight I sit here perched in my tower of grief. Waiting.


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