I thought of you last night.
One night among all the thousands of nights that have passed since your hand last grasped mine,
As we lay next to each other in the dark.
I thought of your breath
Your arms braced
As you raised yourself above me,
The passion in your eyes
A mere reflection of mine.
Our bodies sweaty and slick
As we moved this way and that,
Our combined breaths raspy and raw.Read more
I've reached a major point along this widowhood road. Arrived, so to speak.
At least, in my mind, I have.
I'm in the state of Confusion. And I'm kind of okay with it, in the midst of nothing being okay any longer.
I'm not fighting any emotion that comes my way.
Good, bad, indifferent and everything in between.Read more
This is the eve of what the world celebrates as New Year's.
But, since Time has ceased to hold any meaning for me since Chuck's death, I've taken it upon myself to designate my New Year as beginning on April 21; the anniversary of Chuck's death.
That's the time when I reflect on whatever needs reflecting upon. It's when I do a self-check, and it's a time that is meaningful to me.
I realize, more and more, that Time is merely a social construct. It's necessary, in our culture, to keep our worlds moving, I suppose, but for those of us left behind, it's a mish mash of how can it be so long? and oh my god it's been forever! There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of in between.
Recently I also made the decision to stop counting the years since Chuck's death. Not because it doesn't matter; it very much does. But my heart can't manage it. I started sorting it all out and it will soon be 7 years and...nope. Not doing 7 years. In my mind, and what I will forever tell people henceforth, it has been 6.5 years. Period.
Additionally, since I'm stopping counting the years since his death, I will no longer age. I'm 61 now, and that's the age I'll stay. I'm already one year older than Chuck was when he died. Enough already.
Yes, yes, of course there are those who might say, behind their hands, that I've gone nuts. Crackers. Over the edge. Look at the crazy widow! they'll whisper.
Behold the field of fucks I don't give.
I stopped caring about other's opinions of me a looooong time ago. In fact, the first thing I'd tell anyone new to this community is to install a hinge on their elbow so that it automatically shoots up when someone offers an opinion/comment/suggestion about the right way to widow, and your fingers automatically flip them a bird.
You can, of course, in order to appease such people, stare at your elbow/hand in shocked surprise that this happened. Act horrified if you wish. You've made your point with them.
In some ways I relish the prospect of being known as the crazy widow lady. Kind of a cool rep, in my mind.
I will, of course, be the crazy widow lady dressed all in pink and what's that all about? they'll ask, not really wanting to know the answer.
That's okay, too.
I'm going to just be over here, driving my pink car, towing my pink trailer with the names of all these loved ones on it, shooting sparkle and glitter at everyone. Giving hugs. Getting hugs.
The crazy widow lady in pink.
My brain and body...both are too tired to string together too many sentences.
I say too tired, but it isn't from tiredness really, as much as it is a whole lot of stimulation in the past few days.
My mom used to say that stress happens with good and bad things both. That our body feels it as stress whatever it is.
This has been good stress in the last few days. Also, hugely emotional.
I've been sewing and gluing all day long.
Tomorrow will be more of the same.
On Thursday I'll run last minute errands and then hitch my rig, PinkMagic, to my pink car.
Very early Friday morning I'll meet my film team and we'll head first to Sedona AZ and then Zion Nat'l Park in Utah.
The time has come, as the walrus said...Read more
I thought about reposting my WV blog from 2015 for this week.
Because I pretty much feel the same way, regarding the holidays.
As a 6 1/2 year veteran of this wid life, I kind of hate owning up to how difficult this all is for me still.
I don't want to scare those of you who are just stepping out onto the road.
But I also feel the need to be honest.
I've never yet, in all these years, not spoken/written the truth of how this is for me, and I'm not going to start now.Read more
We each define this widowed walk for ourselves, of course.
The grief we carry is as individual as a thumb print, we're told.
Which makes sense, of course.
For myself, I've never used the word lost to describe this grief.
Being lost implies to me that I have a destination in mind.
An end point.
And I don't.Read more
This blog is a question for the Universe, I suppose.
Because I don't believe that there is a human alive, who has gone through this widowed life, who would have a ready answer for me.
I've stood in the middle of nowhere and cast my eyes up into azure blue skies...
I've stood outside on the darkest of dark nights with no light pollution around and let my eyes drift from one star to another...
I've stood in the midst of a crowd of people, all who love me...
I've stood with strangers...
I've been busy, I've distracted myself, I've practiced being in the moment, being still...
I've criss-crossed the country 8 times in these 6 1/2 years since Chuck's death...
I've workamped at an opera camp...
I've greeted thousands of guests as I worked the front gate of a Renaissance Faire...
I've done everything I could think of...
I've pushed into all that was in front of me...
And now I stand still and wonder...Read more
Whispers of you and I
Echo in each pulse beat
that brings life to my body.
So much Love.
So, Sarah wrote last week about my leaving for a work trip. It was the first time I have done so since we’ve met. Sure, I’ve left for a day or two here and there to go backpacking, but being required by my job to board a jet to Chicago for three days is, quite obviously, a bit more of a trigger for her. Especially when it’s a trigger she hasn’t experienced in the seven years since Drew’s death on a work trip.
I get it. I know it sucked for her for me to be gone (for the record, I’m home safe and sound), but I can never feel what she feels. She’s in New York, visiting her sister for the past few days. While I miss her, and want to make sure she’s safe, it’s not and never has been a “please don’t die” issue for me.
Here’s the thing. I didn’t have a sudden loss. What I had was long expected. Megan’s death took years. If I was going to have a trigger or anxiety, it would likely be more when Sarah is sick or, god forbid, hospitalized for any reason. Just a little 6 hour drive to New York? That’s simply not a trigger for me.Read more