Recently, the cable through which my house receives both TV and internet had a major fault. It lasted 4 days.
...and I nearly lost my marbles.
Part of the reason was that I needed to log onto the work system to download the latest files for school, but part of the reason was that I have come to rely on the television to provide an inane, background distraction whenever my brain wandered in to places I'd rather it not revisit.
I lost my husband on February 17, 2013. Mike had a heart attack in his sleep; he was 59. I was about a month away from my 45th birthday, and we were a few months away from our 14th wedding anniversary. I found him that morning. It was the single most shocking and horrible thing that's ever happened to me. The past 439 days have been the longest, strangest trip I've ever taken. And it's not over yet. It will never be over.
Anyone remember that legendary warning from Woodstock not to eat the brown acid, which was supposedly giving people bad trips? A few months ago I was trying to explain to a friend how surreal my life, and the whole world in fact, seemed now that he was gone. It's as if I wake up each morning and take my daily dose of the bad brown LSD and then move on with my day, the colors and sounds swirling around me unrecognizable, the panic and paranoia clenching my throat, my heart racing.
When Michele first contacted me about joining this wonderful community here at Widow's Voice, I was deeply honored and grateful for the opportunity to share my story, and connect with others on this journey of healing. I immediately started writing some introductory paragraphs about myself. And then wrote them again. And rewrote them. Again. And again. And again.
After two and a half years of feeling this soul-changing, earth-shattering loss, I just realized something sort of huge. Well, I always knew it, but I just stopped and actually thought about it, and now I am able to put it into words. It is this: I grieve on behalf of my husband more than I grieve for my husband.
In just a couple weeks, I'm coming up on 3 years. That realization along with the hormones of pregnancy has really been a lethal - and emotional - combination. I found this old post from my blog that jumped out at me as something I've been thinking about lately and thought I would share. Maybe someone, somewhere out there might connect with this too.
I play this torturous game with myself pretty regularly, where I wonder what I would do if you came back today. I don't mean to play, my mind plays and my heart can't help but join. Every time I think about it, I feel my heart jolt, almost fooling myself into believing it could be possible. But the let down after still hurts every time.Read more
When I met Greg, it was at a housewarming party for mutual friends.
He danced with me, brought me drinks, held my hand and at the end of the night, he walked me to my car and kissed me softly.
Years later, we could remember exactly where we were standing when we first clapped eyes on each other.
It was love at first sight.
..... like someone alone in a canoe ...... with no oar, no compass.
I feel as though I'm living in some kind of in-between layer of life. It feels like I don't belong anywhere anymore ...... like a tree that's been cut away from its roots.
No place feels like "home" right now, or whatever "home" used to feel like.
My house in Texas is on the market and most of the time I feel like that's the right decision. But then the shadow of doubt creeps in and starts to cloud my mind and I don't know what's right for me.