We write about widowhood as we live it. Together we examine the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of life as a widowed person. The views expressed here are those held by each individual author. We take no credit for their brillance; we just provide them with a forum for expressing their widowed journey in words that are uniquely their own.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Knowledge
Someone once said that it is knowledge sets us free, but as I've learned, everyone's knowledge is different.
After Michael died I knew nothing but one thing in life. I could no longer answer questions on why or how things turned out as they did. I could not tell you right from left. As time has passed though, I have embraced the unknown and learned to accept it as a companion on my journey here on earth.
Still though, there are those times, those gut-wrenching, bring you to your knees moments in which the lack of knowledge of how one has ended up in the predicament they're in, can run a muck on the soul we each carry inside of us.
I don't know why I can't hold the hand or kiss the lips of my one true love, I don't know why his vehicle had to be the one to be absorbed by the 2,00 pound blast, I don't know why I must sometimes wander in a world in which few understand me...and yet...as overpowering and heartbreaking as some of these things may be I can only return to the one true thing I know...the northern light in a world that sometime has no direction....
I know I am loved...but not only loved but in love with my counterpart...my chosen one...my compass.
It's all I know in a place that sometimes feels like a dark alleyway.
And that is all the knowledge I need...it's all I need....and I am free.
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Thank you for this beautiful acknowledgment.
ReplyDeleteThis morning as I went through another terrible wave of grief, I sobbed until I couldnt breathe, talking to my husband in my mind - saying once again-please, please come back to me. . . i know its irrational, I know it is also impossible but it doesnt change the desire for his presence.
When it stops . . . i always have a moment where i try to remember him saying i love you.
what remains is always the love.
Well said. I've had very similiar thoughts since my Michael was also taken very unexpectedly in an accident.
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