Will I Ever Stop Asking ...

Will I Ever Stop Asking 

Where would we be, 

had you not died? 

 

Will I ever stop wondering 

what would have happened 

in our life together

if you were still here? 

 

Will I ever be at peace 

with the idea that my life is filled 

with questions

that do not have answers? 

 

Will I ever feel okay 

with the knowing 

that large pieces of my life

will always remain unknown?

 

Will I?

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Remembering Barely~

I wrote this on a night when the moon blazed so brightly in the sky...

"I remember, barely now, because it's been so long, the feel of my hand in Chuck's. His hand so strong and firm around mine. His hand gave me a feeling of comfort, of protection, of belonging... a sense of order in my Universe.

As the nights grow colder now, as the moon shimmers so very brightly above my upraised face, i remember, sometimes barely now, because it's been so very long, the strength of Chuck's arms around me from behind, as we stared up at this same moon, marveling at the beauty of it, transfixed by its' distance from us, and the might of the Universe around us...

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Just Do It

As I sat down to write this morning, as I usually do, I read a few of this previous week’s posts.  On a day like today, where my mind is somewhat blank, it often helps me to zero in on a subject. Once I have that nugget of inspiration, I can usually let it flow.

This week, I’ve been inspired to write about something from a different side of the same coin.  Olivia and Staci had spoken about the triggers of lack of contact with a loved one, and the desire and intricacies of revisiting places and events they once shared with their person.

Perhaps its the different circumstances...long-term illness versus sudden, surprising loss, but I don’t feel the same way as they do.  

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A Season of Progress

Just like in life, in grief there is progress. 

Thankfully, time changes grief. I don’t know how or why, but time softens the edges - ever so slightly. And, thankfully, time has taken the sting from my tears and the primal rawness from my cries; but, still, the missingness is ever present.

Last year, I visited a local Christmas store because I wanted to get in the Spirit of the Season. And, partially, or more likely, completely, I was attempting to revisit the past. A past that included Mike. The year before, he and I had gone to this same store and I wanted to return to a place we had been. I wanted to be somewhere that he physically was.

I still have this urge to return to the places he and I walked together.

This urge is more controllable now, after two years, but sometimes I still need to walk the aisles of our local grocery store, sometimes I need to sit in our diner - at the same table he sat at with me. While drinking my coffee, he comes back to life in my mind. In an effort to be closer to Mike, I always order his favorite breakfast every-single-time. I just can’t help myself. And, still, there are nights that I need to stand outside of his house. I stand in the shadows of the night and I look at the house that was once my home. I feel like a voyeur who is witnessing another life. But, I can not stop myself. I need to breath in all that once was. Maybe I need to convince myself that it was real. I don’t really know.

 

 

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Are you dead or just busy?

I remember last year sitting in a small group discussion at Camp Widow Toronto discussing how there can be triggers that connect directly or indirectly to your loss that make you scared and panic for your current life, namely your other loved ones. Then how these triggers and events make you act out of character. Someone mentioned seeing ambulances and wanting check-ins instantly on the people they loved. Someone else mentioned anytime anyone is even remotely late that they want calls so they know everyone is okay. At the time I thought, “Nope, not me. I don’t think or do anything like that.” Now that’s what I think of when I get into my extreme panic mode over people in my life now and can’t get out of it. I guess it just hadn’t started yet.

For me it has somehow translated to mostly related to phone calls and texts. The morning Mike died he was (obviously) not responding to my texts. I texted him a few times. I then called him. The first few times I called him it rang all the way to voicemail. Then it started to go straight to voicemail. I know now that the police would have turned it off. At the time, I tried to convince myself that he was just late from work and his phone died. He wasn’t and it didn’t.

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Always Learning~

I've been on the road quite a bit in the last few weeks, visiting my NJ community. Not towing my trailer, because, you know, weather, and I'm on my way west to Arkansas now, for Thanksgiving.

All of which is to say...

I listen to podcasts as I drive. History podcasts, philosophy, widow stuff, life stuff. You name it, and I listen to it.

And I just never know what I might hear that will suddenly click the gears into place that generally turn non-stop, taking in all that is around me. Conversations of strangers, particular terrain, colors of the sky, what the road looks like in front of me...my internal gears are always spinning, picking up bits and pieces of everything and, sometimes, what seems like nothing but ends up being that one missing piece.

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It's Me

I used to answer my phone and I'd hear him say "Hi Beautiful, it's me". 

I miss those days. 

I miss when my phone would ring and his voice was on the other end. 

I miss hearing the man I love telling me it was him. 

 

Art: Loui Jover

 

When he was alive, Mike belonged to me and I belonged to him.  And, for a short while, everything seemed right in the world.  And, now, nothing, not one damn thing, has felt right in almost two years.
 
I knew Mike thought of me as his person when he casually referred to himself as "it's me".  This phrase between couples becomes commonplace as a friendship turns into a romantic relationship.  It is an informal way of sealing the deal.  It is a universal phrase that solidifies your couplehood. 
 
"It's me", is a phrase that comes to be when you acknowledge that you are theirs and they are yours. Like many couples, Mike and I declared that we belonged to one another with this short, subtle phrase.  This was just one of the many gestures that we naturally adapted as we fell in love with each other. I really miss being in love - with him.  In truth, I am still in love with Mike.  And, I think I always will be.
 
 
 
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Case of the Mondays

Sometimes, being incredibly, almost comically busy can be a blessing in disguise.  Although it’s a short work week for us here in the US, with Thanksgiving being this Thursday, I arrived to an unexpectedly busy office yesterday morning.  It was a madhouse for the entire day, and even as I drove home, I was receiving phone calls from co-workers, asking for assistance with their IT needs. I spent at least half an hour hunched over in our “office” after getting home, online, and on the phone.

I didn’t get lunch yesterday.  I was unable to even break away for 5 minutes to grab a cup of coffee.  I spent almost the entirety of the day away from my desk, with the fleeting moments that I was able to sit down on the phone.  

Password resets, email problems, printer outages, accounting programs mysteriously losing information, our president forgetting his laptop at home, broken cell phones, misbehaving monitors, and a bevy of other issues all seemed to occur at once.

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Being There

What do I do... When the person I now love sits in pain?

A similar pain to my own, but still so different and all his own.

What do I do on the hard days when I see you crying your eyes out with an ocean of feeling inside you? Wishing that I could somehow dive inside of it and feel it for you.

Knowing that even that wouldn’t help you.

What do I do in those moments, when suddenly, I haven’t a clue what to say or do?

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Newborn Fears

I caught myself today. I caught myself leaving for work, locking the door and checking the handle – 7 times. I pulled and pushed on the handle to make sure it was definitely locked. Then I pushed on the door itself.  “It’s locked”’ I said to myself. I walked down the hall to the stairs and paused. I felt sick to my stomach. I turned around and went back to check the door again…

I didn’t sleep well last night. My dreams were all over the place, in and out of new scenes mixed into others that seemed hauntingly familiar. People I knew in my life were all gone and all the new people I met were untrustworthy, up to something, lurking in the shadows. I ran around this new world struggling to find an anchor. Then I saw my dog Roan. He was running toward me and was knocked into the street and run over. I woke up screaming and in tears. I felt that everything was out of control and the fear grew stronger.

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