Time means nothing and it means everything since my husband died. My heart beats its' rhythm. It plods and it races and jumps and bumps and shatters and breaks and leaps and is subtle and loud. All at the same time sometimes.
In one month it will be one year since he died.
Each morning I wake up, knowing I slept, so I'm glad for that, but not feeling rested at all. By the evening, after a day spent getting through, well, the day, I'm done in. I take melatonin when I remember and that helps sometimes.Read more
We spend our lives with an awareness of our physical bodies. We dress our bodies, we move our bodies. Our hands hold other's hands. Our arms hug. Our lips meet in exquisite kisses. Our lips smile and laugh. Our eyes sparkle as we gaze upon life and our loves. Our feet dance, in rhythm or not.
So, here I am, writing my first blog right before Valentine's Day. Right before what would have been our 24th wedding anniversary. I'm getting ahead of myself, I know. I was going to introduce myself, give some back-story, and I promise I will. But maybe, because of the timing of this first entry, I'll give you a glimpse into the world that was mine with my beloved husband, let you peek through the keyhole so you can understand the missing-ness of him in my life. This, dear ones, is the memory I carry with me in my heart and soul. The only memory, really, that I can easily call to mind. (Why is that?)Read more