Sunday, June 27, 2010
6 Years, 2 Months - Alone
I cried today. The tears started falling and then I let it go and sobbed for a minute. It is times like these that I really miss having a husband, a sounding board, a champion for your side, someone to give advice, someone to hold you when things go bad and when it feels like you are standing alone. My family has more than abandoned me. They have condemned me as inept, lazy, a liar. I miss you honey. I would not be in this mess if you were still here yet, even worse, is struggling through my troubles alone and not knowing if I have made the right decisions. I miss you dearly.
Friday, June 4, 2010
6 Years 2 Months - Loss of Past
It is strange. All my past loves are dead and I am only in my forties. First was the death of my husband of eleven years. Next, the three-year love affair I have always described as obsessive. We had stayed in touch for years afterwards. I was feeling reminiscent during my lonely holidays and the urge to get together had been growing for months. Therefore, I searched on-line. I found a guest book with the right name. Once I opened it, my first thought was it was the wrong person. It was a memorial guest book. Even when I read the condolences, to the mother, the father, the twin, all with the right names, it still did not seem right. At the bottom, there was a link to pictures. Pictures I have copies of in my old photo albums. The entries were six months old.
Then this year I started re-connecting with high school classmates through social networking. That is how I found out my high school sweetheart of four years had died the same summer as my obsession. A quick search found the simple obituary. There was only one great love left. I knew he must be gone as well. It seemed fatalistic thinking. I researched and found nothing. He started appearing in my dreams. I do not know how long it had been since I had dreamed of him, decades perhaps. His sister found me, a week after he died this spring. During the first five years as a young adult on my own, he was my love.
It is unsettling. They are in my past, love long faded, hurts forgotten, only bits of memories remaining, mostly ones reinforced by story telling or photos. Yet, there is still a sense a loss. These were all people I had loved. I have discounted those old loves as less than the love affair with my husband. However, when I pull out the photo albums stored in a trunk and flip through the discolored pages, I am no longer sure. So many years shared. All the lovers, who carried our private memories with them, as I carried our shared memories, are now gone, passed, dead. Only a one sided version remains. It seems a natural occurrence, if I was in my eighties perhaps and not halfway there. Fourteen to eighteen, eighteen to twenty-three, twenty-five to twenty-eight, thirty to forty-one, a large chunk of life is closed. Obviously closed already, yet sealed shut now. The mystery of these unrelated deaths overwhelms me. Then last week, a heart attack. My first tiptoe back into dating, talks of marriage, hours every day on the phone, perhaps my rebound, a part of the past circling around to the present. A year moved too fast and ended as suddenly. I wonder now if I have a strange black widow effect on people who fall in love with me as I can add forty-six to forty-seven in the blank file.
Then this year I started re-connecting with high school classmates through social networking. That is how I found out my high school sweetheart of four years had died the same summer as my obsession. A quick search found the simple obituary. There was only one great love left. I knew he must be gone as well. It seemed fatalistic thinking. I researched and found nothing. He started appearing in my dreams. I do not know how long it had been since I had dreamed of him, decades perhaps. His sister found me, a week after he died this spring. During the first five years as a young adult on my own, he was my love.
It is unsettling. They are in my past, love long faded, hurts forgotten, only bits of memories remaining, mostly ones reinforced by story telling or photos. Yet, there is still a sense a loss. These were all people I had loved. I have discounted those old loves as less than the love affair with my husband. However, when I pull out the photo albums stored in a trunk and flip through the discolored pages, I am no longer sure. So many years shared. All the lovers, who carried our private memories with them, as I carried our shared memories, are now gone, passed, dead. Only a one sided version remains. It seems a natural occurrence, if I was in my eighties perhaps and not halfway there. Fourteen to eighteen, eighteen to twenty-three, twenty-five to twenty-eight, thirty to forty-one, a large chunk of life is closed. Obviously closed already, yet sealed shut now. The mystery of these unrelated deaths overwhelms me. Then last week, a heart attack. My first tiptoe back into dating, talks of marriage, hours every day on the phone, perhaps my rebound, a part of the past circling around to the present. A year moved too fast and ended as suddenly. I wonder now if I have a strange black widow effect on people who fall in love with me as I can add forty-six to forty-seven in the blank file.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Quotes
"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."
— Dr. Seuss
"I'm afraid that sometimes you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you."
— Dr. Seuss
In honor of Dr. Seuss' Birthday
— Dr. Seuss
"I'm afraid that sometimes you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you."
— Dr. Seuss
In honor of Dr. Seuss' Birthday
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Sister, Mom, Husband - Need
I saw Shutter Island with my friends tonight. Leaving in the car I cried for my sister and what I have lost with her due to her mental illness that did not occur until her late 20s. Then I felt such a longing for my mom. My life is in a lot of turmoil with major decisions required and soon to face substantial personal losses. I have been under extreme stress for six years and the grief for my husband was only the beginning. If I cannot have a husband to comfort me and provide me guidance it would be nice to have a sister which leads me to really needing my mommy.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
6 Years, 10 Months - Widow Friends
I just spent Happy Hour with some of my widow friends. It is hard to believe that we are starting to click-away our 6-year anniversaries. I believe I am the third in line of twelve, one of the early ones. This is mentioned in conversation not as time without our husbands but as time together as friends. I have to do the math in my head to determine how many weeks until my next anniversary. The approaching day is no longer an overwhelming thought. I realize it is not a marker of a forward step in grief. The impeding day has stopped scaring me. It no longer haunts me with slow-motion recreations of the final terrors. Well that is almost true. I am sure a few days before I will re-enact the awful decisions, to tube or not to tube, to feed, to not feed, to restart the heart or not. I will examine again the envisioned mistakes. I will see his suffering. I will feel my suffering. I will contemplate the unbelievable denial. I will visit the ripping of us into me. Not to worry now, I have several more weeks before my mind becomes a traitor and revisits where I no longer want to go. Now I am in that nice window between the holidays and the death and the windows become longer every year.
Some people tell me it is time to move on from my widow friends and about two-thirds of the original group no longer joins us. However, we are not sitting around talking about our dead husbands. That is what others assume we do. Yet even in the beginning, we talked about the grief more than we discussed our husbands. Nonetheless, even those conversations stopped years ago. Now we are a regular group of girlfriends. Today we talked about everyones various trips to Thailand, Machu Pichu, Eastern Europe, and planned trips to Morocco, South Africa, Italy, and Guatemala. We talk about men. Relationships have come and gone since we all lost our soul mates. An eavesdropper may believe us a group of divorcées. Yet, there is that common thread that binds us. Sometimes there is a twist in our perception that is different from our married friends, our divorced friends, our single friends. After remarking that we have been friends for five years, one of the women asked the youngest what her plans were for the next five years. Her response was not typical for a beautiful young woman who is successful in her job. Her response was she has learned not to make plans. When she says this, she seems old. She is not like my nieces her age. When she says this, we all just nod our heads. I think of her wedding only weeks away. Her dress pressed and hanging on the closet door, sending out thank-you cards for the gifts that begin to arrive, helping guests with their travel plans, the bachelorette hangover, shopping for honeymoon clothes, looking into his eyes and knowing he is yours forever. Another revision to the seating chart seems catastrophic. Then her cell phone rings. Plans are not much different from dreams. Before there seemed a difference, one involved taking action towards goals and the other was fantasy. Now plans appear delusional.
Some people tell me it is time to move on from my widow friends and about two-thirds of the original group no longer joins us. However, we are not sitting around talking about our dead husbands. That is what others assume we do. Yet even in the beginning, we talked about the grief more than we discussed our husbands. Nonetheless, even those conversations stopped years ago. Now we are a regular group of girlfriends. Today we talked about everyones various trips to Thailand, Machu Pichu, Eastern Europe, and planned trips to Morocco, South Africa, Italy, and Guatemala. We talk about men. Relationships have come and gone since we all lost our soul mates. An eavesdropper may believe us a group of divorcées. Yet, there is that common thread that binds us. Sometimes there is a twist in our perception that is different from our married friends, our divorced friends, our single friends. After remarking that we have been friends for five years, one of the women asked the youngest what her plans were for the next five years. Her response was not typical for a beautiful young woman who is successful in her job. Her response was she has learned not to make plans. When she says this, she seems old. She is not like my nieces her age. When she says this, we all just nod our heads. I think of her wedding only weeks away. Her dress pressed and hanging on the closet door, sending out thank-you cards for the gifts that begin to arrive, helping guests with their travel plans, the bachelorette hangover, shopping for honeymoon clothes, looking into his eyes and knowing he is yours forever. Another revision to the seating chart seems catastrophic. Then her cell phone rings. Plans are not much different from dreams. Before there seemed a difference, one involved taking action towards goals and the other was fantasy. Now plans appear delusional.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
6 Years, 9 Months - Stepchildren
I am feeling very lonely tonight. My stepdaughter came to pick up her dad’s yearbooks. Her husband stayed in the car. She moved to this area with her mom so she could be by her dad. Her mom still lives her too. I only see my daughter a few times a year. She comes over, never sits down, and picks up things of her dads and then leaves. I have not seen her sister in years. The last time I saw her was at a family funeral and we never even made eye contact. She stayed in the living room and front yard and I stayed in the kitchen and backyard. It is not that I do not want to see her. She does not want to look at my face. She cancelled going to the family get-together the following day because I would be there. All the losses weigh on me tonight. Losing a spouse enviably means losing most of his family too. You just do not know this at the time. The morning after his service, half of the large tree in our front yard severed and fell and his family drove away.
I think of my mom. She told me when she was dieing that I only saw her a few times a year for an afternoon, a few phone calls a year, and a random holiday. My life mirrors hers now just like my face.
I think of my mom. She told me when she was dieing that I only saw her a few times a year for an afternoon, a few phone calls a year, and a random holiday. My life mirrors hers now just like my face.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
REVERSE METAMORPHISIS
REVERSE METAMORPHISIS
I was a beautiful butterfly.
You found me when I was a flower dancer basking in the sunshine.
We gracefully soared together towards the open blue sky.
Then the world changed color and the leaves began to fall.
We watched each one float away to finally settle dry.
So soon, the storms of winter came to crash their destruction.
I wandered.
Slowly I stilled becoming a chrysalis that could no longer move.
My wings crumbled.
Wrapped in darkness and quiet, I slept, I cried.
I mourned the days when we were butterflies.
A few butterflies flitted among the spring flowers praising the nectar I no longer tasted.
A ray of summer sunshine would flash its ultraviolet light but I never felt its warmth.
The fall winds tossed me cruelly until winter’s silence again filled me.
I slept, I cried, I mourned the days when I was a butterfly.
No longer cocooned I crept alone outside.
New layers forming as I walked away from the shells discarded.
I searched endlessly to fill the hungry void inside.
I closed my eyes and cried.
I remember the days when we were butterflies.
I turn my head to look up at the sky. I yearn to fly.
I remember the bright clouds and the endless sky.
Yet even now when I cry, I know I am no longer a butterfly.
By Me
I was a beautiful butterfly.
You found me when I was a flower dancer basking in the sunshine.
We gracefully soared together towards the open blue sky.
Then the world changed color and the leaves began to fall.
We watched each one float away to finally settle dry.
So soon, the storms of winter came to crash their destruction.
I wandered.
Slowly I stilled becoming a chrysalis that could no longer move.
My wings crumbled.
Wrapped in darkness and quiet, I slept, I cried.
I mourned the days when we were butterflies.
A few butterflies flitted among the spring flowers praising the nectar I no longer tasted.
A ray of summer sunshine would flash its ultraviolet light but I never felt its warmth.
The fall winds tossed me cruelly until winter’s silence again filled me.
I slept, I cried, I mourned the days when I was a butterfly.
No longer cocooned I crept alone outside.
New layers forming as I walked away from the shells discarded.
I searched endlessly to fill the hungry void inside.
I closed my eyes and cried.
I remember the days when we were butterflies.
I turn my head to look up at the sky. I yearn to fly.
I remember the bright clouds and the endless sky.
Yet even now when I cry, I know I am no longer a butterfly.
By Me
Sunday, January 17, 2010
6 Years, 9 Months - Wishing
I hear our wedding song and smile. I wish you were here to dance with me in the living room.
6 Years, 9 Months - Time Passing
His love feels fresh and I think of him everyday.
Yet, there are little reminders of how much time has passed:
The shirt I am discarding that I purchased while driving down the Oregon Coast to my girlfriend's wedding. She decided not to have me in her wedding party because my husband had just died.
Helping plan my niece’s wedding. She moved in with me a few months afterwards and fresh out of high school.
Getting together with the family and the new members that have never met him
The lack of hesitation in checking the ‘single’ box when filling out forms
A brief love affair started and ended
The need to repaint the house again although I was on a home decorating frenzy those first two years
Thoughts of replacing my car that he never drove
Going to restaurants and viewing them as places I frequent with someone else, although it used to be one of our favorites.
Being able to drive within walking distance of where he died without having my throat tighten until I throw up.
Having the ability to sell his book collection and vintage car when I held onto his socks forever
Knowing where everything is located at Home Depot
Going to the movie theatre we used to go to every week and barely thinking of him
Hearing the refrigerator make funny noises and thinking it is old and needs replacement. Then recalling that day we bought it at Sears was only a year or so before he got sick.
Yet, there are little reminders of how much time has passed:
The shirt I am discarding that I purchased while driving down the Oregon Coast to my girlfriend's wedding. She decided not to have me in her wedding party because my husband had just died.
Helping plan my niece’s wedding. She moved in with me a few months afterwards and fresh out of high school.
Getting together with the family and the new members that have never met him
The lack of hesitation in checking the ‘single’ box when filling out forms
A brief love affair started and ended
The need to repaint the house again although I was on a home decorating frenzy those first two years
Thoughts of replacing my car that he never drove
Going to restaurants and viewing them as places I frequent with someone else, although it used to be one of our favorites.
Being able to drive within walking distance of where he died without having my throat tighten until I throw up.
Having the ability to sell his book collection and vintage car when I held onto his socks forever
Knowing where everything is located at Home Depot
Going to the movie theatre we used to go to every week and barely thinking of him
Hearing the refrigerator make funny noises and thinking it is old and needs replacement. Then recalling that day we bought it at Sears was only a year or so before he got sick.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Lao Tzu
Being deeply loved by someone
gives you strength;
while loving someone deeply
give you courage
-Lao Tzu
gives you strength;
while loving someone deeply
give you courage
-Lao Tzu
Monday, January 11, 2010
EMILY DICKINSON
After great pain, a formal feeling comes
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round
Of Ground, or Air,
or Ought A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone
This is the Hour of Lead
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow
First-Chill-then Stupor-then the letting go
EMILY DICKINSON
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round
Of Ground, or Air,
or Ought A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone
This is the Hour of Lead
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow
First-Chill-then Stupor-then the letting go
EMILY DICKINSON
Friday, January 8, 2010
5 Years, 9 Months - Other Widows' Blogs
I find myself reading other grief blogs today. I am not sad, more curious on the similarities of our paths. After posting a lengthy comment on one blog, I decided to paraphrase it here.
These are a few questions asked by another widow blogger with my answers. I am not sure if I should cite her blog so I am leaning towards anonymous. I will change this if this is improper etiquette.
1.) When do I take my wedding band off?
When you are ready, repeat this mantra repeatedly for all questions relating to 'how long' and 'grief'. However, I did succumb to peer-pressure, as I was the last of my young widow friends to take my ring off. Although I did not feel ready, I thought it might be a step required to move forward. That was years ago and I think it did mark a step forward. Nevertheless, every few months I find myself absent-mindedly rubbing the underside of my ring finger.
2.) If I am remarried, whom do I get buried next to when I die?
The parallel question, depending on your beliefs, is what happens when the three of you are in heaven.
3.) Are my in-laws still my in-laws?
I found In-Laws becomes an option that can be retained or negated by either party and may include some but not all members.
4.) Everyone says the first year is the toughest. Will something magically happen on ’year one’ to make the second year so much better?
The one-year grieving deadline is an outdated belief that needs to be rectified. What happens at one year is you fall backwards temporarily and then continue on your grief journey.
5.) Why do people commemorate the anniversary of someone's death?
The death anniversary almost forces recognition. Your body marks its approach before you even realize the date is nearing. It is better to have a plan than possibly find yourself alone and spinning backwards. The first year my stepdaughter and I went to Disneyland. That was sensory overload and the day ended in her screaming, ‘Why don’t we talk about dad today? It’s his day.‘ For the next few years, my we went hiking in National Parks. Being in nature together was very peaceful and positive. I believe if we had been alone in those early years, it would have been a day of uncontrollable grief. Now I purposely leave an empty calendar. I go somewhere where my husband and I used to go, maybe a restaurant or a walk on the beach. I may read or see a movie. I spend the day quietly, remembering our love and the memories, with maybe one short cry. The next day I am refreshed and back to my quasi-normal life.
6.) How long will my friends and family put up with me?
My widow friends agree that your friends and family hit the times-up buzzer long before you are ready. It is romantic to think they will always be there but do not count on it. Other than these friends, I have only met one other person who understood. More than a decade had past since she lost her child. She told me in about my third year that it never ends. This was just when I was convincing myself I must be wrapping up my last year before I graduated from grieving and returned to the old me. Now I understand. Grief just calms and tucks itself away in a corner of your heart, becoming a part of the new you.
These are a few questions asked by another widow blogger with my answers. I am not sure if I should cite her blog so I am leaning towards anonymous. I will change this if this is improper etiquette.
1.) When do I take my wedding band off?
When you are ready, repeat this mantra repeatedly for all questions relating to 'how long' and 'grief'. However, I did succumb to peer-pressure, as I was the last of my young widow friends to take my ring off. Although I did not feel ready, I thought it might be a step required to move forward. That was years ago and I think it did mark a step forward. Nevertheless, every few months I find myself absent-mindedly rubbing the underside of my ring finger.
2.) If I am remarried, whom do I get buried next to when I die?
The parallel question, depending on your beliefs, is what happens when the three of you are in heaven.
3.) Are my in-laws still my in-laws?
I found In-Laws becomes an option that can be retained or negated by either party and may include some but not all members.
4.) Everyone says the first year is the toughest. Will something magically happen on ’year one’ to make the second year so much better?
The one-year grieving deadline is an outdated belief that needs to be rectified. What happens at one year is you fall backwards temporarily and then continue on your grief journey.
5.) Why do people commemorate the anniversary of someone's death?
The death anniversary almost forces recognition. Your body marks its approach before you even realize the date is nearing. It is better to have a plan than possibly find yourself alone and spinning backwards. The first year my stepdaughter and I went to Disneyland. That was sensory overload and the day ended in her screaming, ‘Why don’t we talk about dad today? It’s his day.‘ For the next few years, my we went hiking in National Parks. Being in nature together was very peaceful and positive. I believe if we had been alone in those early years, it would have been a day of uncontrollable grief. Now I purposely leave an empty calendar. I go somewhere where my husband and I used to go, maybe a restaurant or a walk on the beach. I may read or see a movie. I spend the day quietly, remembering our love and the memories, with maybe one short cry. The next day I am refreshed and back to my quasi-normal life.
6.) How long will my friends and family put up with me?
My widow friends agree that your friends and family hit the times-up buzzer long before you are ready. It is romantic to think they will always be there but do not count on it. Other than these friends, I have only met one other person who understood. More than a decade had past since she lost her child. She told me in about my third year that it never ends. This was just when I was convincing myself I must be wrapping up my last year before I graduated from grieving and returned to the old me. Now I understand. Grief just calms and tucks itself away in a corner of your heart, becoming a part of the new you.
5 Years, 9 Months - Why I Blog My Grief
It is nearing the six-year death anniversary. Recently I started a blog as a means to organize my earlier journal entries. For a period, my only question was how to stop the pain. There were times I thought I was crazy and the only proof I had otherwise was a handful of other young widows that felt the same way. I finally reached a point where I worried how long past the traditional mourning deadline the grief would last.
Blogging my journal reminds me of how much I have healed. My continued friendship with widows refreshes my soul, as they are my true confidantes. Grief has been a non-linear journey that no longer overwhelms me yet has become a part of who I am. I hope others find in my blog the reassurances I have received from that diversified group of young widows that met when our grief was visceral.
Blogging my journal reminds me of how much I have healed. My continued friendship with widows refreshes my soul, as they are my true confidantes. Grief has been a non-linear journey that no longer overwhelms me yet has become a part of who I am. I hope others find in my blog the reassurances I have received from that diversified group of young widows that met when our grief was visceral.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
5 years, 9 Months - Holidays
My mother's birthday, the anniversary of our engagement, Thanksgiving, the anniversary of my mother's death, Christmas, my birthday, New Year's Eve... if only my husband's birthday, the anniversary of his death, our wedding anniversary and Valentine's day could be squeezed into the same two months. Then all the bad days would be done with for the year. There are too many, too close together, as I fall with Autumn to the darkness of winter.
5 years, 9 Months - Holidays
Thankfully the holidays are over. Wherever I go I still feel alone. I do not feel as if I am grieving any longer, just lonely and empty. It is amazing how one person can make you feel. I can spend time with the same people yet feel so alone now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)