Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Possibly R-rated. But Definitely Real~


I remind myself, when I remember, to s...l...o...w  down.  Not in regards to daily life stuff.  But when I apply lotion.  When I shampoo my hair.  When I shave my legs. When I apply makeup.  When I take care of myself in the ways that a woman does when she has a lover in her life.

I don't remember often to remind myself but its more often than it was.

My years with my husband were filled with texture and depth and romance and, yes, ordinary days, but ordinary days that were sensually flavored with anticipation.  We flirted on the phone, from across a room, and in darkened hallways.  In the middle of, well, anything, be it serious or not, our eyes would make contact and electricity would burn between us.  I used to read books and magazines and articles about love and passion and second marriages and relationships and our conversations swirled around those topics.  

And now.  Now.  Where does that passion and sensuality go, now that he is gone?

Some part of me still cares and doesn't want to age before my time so I still apply lotion but there is no sensuousness in the application now.   I kind of slap it on to get it done.  Its a necessity, not an experience. My lips are chapped mostly and I never seem to remember to apply chap stick.  Always, in my previous life, I kept my lips kissably soft.  For him, because I loved his kisses.  We touched often.  Locked lips.  Linked hands.  We created atmospheres of intimacy.  My hands would slide over the muscles of his back, slowly anointing him with essential oils, memorizing the feel of him.  When he hugged me, I would breathe in his scent.   

The touch and the scents and the textures.  

Mostly I hear widows/ers speak of the financial distress, the practical lists of what has changed and how we must cope after our loved one dies.  Seldom do I hear lips speak of the yearning for those moments of teasing and laughing  and flirting and mutual knowing-ness and heart-pounding, sweat-inducing, rip-roaring passion that can make life so very sweet.  That did make life so very sweet.

It is an uncomfortable subject for some, I get that.  But in this new I refuse to be quiet about what this being alone is really like me that is forever me, I'm defiantly singing it out into the light.  Because I know I'm not the only one thinking it and feeling it.  Anybody can figure out the finances, the car, the place to live, the taxes, the daily living everything.  Technical stuff.

What I struggle with is the loss of his body close to mine for 24 years, touching head to toe.  His hand cupping my head as he lowers his mouth to mine, his arm around me, pulling me closer.  His green eyes catching mine across a room and speaking promises for when we're alone.  His hand against my lower back as we stand together.  His arms locking me against a wall.  His hand in mine, strong and sure, as we walk and walk and walk.  

Well-meaning people talk about moving on, and how he'd want me to be happy, and I hear the concern in their voices that maybe I'm still just a bit too sad for, my goodness, almost a year.  And I want to say to them, (and I'm starting to, in a very nice, diplomatic way), tell me then, HOW DO I NOT MISS EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM?  What do you suggest?  Give me a concrete, here it is, plan to make that happen.  Seriously.  You tell me how I go from being touched to not being touched, from being kissed and loved to nothing, zilch, nada, done, and how I can be okay with that, in the space of oneshortfrickin'year?  In the space of two years?  Tell me, I beg of you. Because I'll give it a shot.  Give me a recipe so that I can not miss him with every breath and, ultimately, make you feel better.

You tell me.   
How do I go from this?
to this?


and not feel it to my bones?  Every minute of every day and every night?


19 comments:

  1. Oh Alison I don't think its uncomfortable as it is so unfathomable to actually let my mind go there. I am at 15 months and I so miss everything. I so miss him and us. I miss his body, his touch, his smell, his laugh, our laughter, our times, every minute of every day.

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  2. It's been just over five years for me and I still miss these things every single day. You're right the technical things fall into place somehow but the physical missing him is just as overwhelming today as the day he stopped breathing. Once you've loved and been loved in all of these ways, how could we not miss it forever? Some days I wish I could turn it off, but some days the sweet memories sustain me. Thanks for talking about it.

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  3. Alison, I woke up this morning and felt all of what you just expressed. The love and intimacy that my husband and I shared was beyond anything that I can put into words. We were and still are soul mates for eternity. I know that what my husband and I shared from the moment we met will never come again for me. The love and intimacy that brought us together cannot be put into words. I know you understand when I say, with the death of my beloved husband, I am now half a person; an empty shell going through the motions of life.

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  4. You don't get over it, or accustomed to doing without, but you cope. On a bad day, thoughts and yearnings will paralyze you. On a good day, it will be a mild ache as you go through the grocery store, do your laundry or hike by yourself. If you get lucky you are so busy that you out run it, but then it will surge and keep you awake for days. (Great pictures with this post! They really capture the feelings.) I'm looking for answers myself.

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  5. Oh Alison, you are definitely not alone! At 22 months out, all the technical bits fell into place but the other?!? If someone gives you the magic formula for being ok without the intimacy, please share! On the outside, I tell people that I'm a "none" but I purposely pronounce it "nun" just to put up the front that none of the intimate acts are of interest to me anymore since my husband is gone. I'm not into the casual sex but my insides scream with the desire to be loved again.
    When I hug a male who is not related to me, especially if he's wearing a cologne that my husband used to wear, I have to remind myself that 1) It's not my husband 2) Not to hug too hard and 3) Not to hug too long, lest the guy thinks I'm crazy or trying to come on to him. All this along with the fact that I'm a young-ish widow, who is probably at least 7 years away from menopause, and once a month, my hormones are like that of a teenage boy but I no longer have my husband to quench the "fire". I am just a hot mess!
    Thanks again for addressing this topic. I try to shut this part of my brain off for my own sanity. Sometimes, I'm successful and sometimes, I just hide in my room and cry until the feeling passes. Probably not the most effective way to deal with this but like I said, if you ever get the magic formula, please share. :-)

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  6. Alison..you just described me and my husband. .we were the same way....I miss everything about him and us ...Our physical intimacy was wonderful...and something I miss all the time.
    I usually push the thoughts aside. ..except for the memories of what we had...
    When I feel...you know..I have to push those thoughts and feelings aside as I have no desire to be with anyone else. ..
    How I wish my lover husband was here. .we were perfect for each other.

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  7. Alison, I, too, long for intimacy and the special bond that comes with the intimacy of two who love each other totally. I don't want nor would I engage in casual sex. I long for my husband and the loving intimacy that only he could give me. I was and still am totally in love with my husband.

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  8. After 37 years of marriage, my heart and stomach still gave a jolt when my husband walked into a room and I like to think I did the same for him. It's been 4.5 years and I so long for his hugs and kisses and looks of love. We would pass each other in the house and just stop and hug and hold on for a minute and be on our way. We still held hands in the car a lot...I so miss all of that but when I look at other men my age I just think they are so decrepit lol. I work in a predominately male profession and most of them are younger and know my situation so I occasionally get the motherly hug and flirts but it's not the same. Sometimes I just want to be held and know I am special to someone other than my children. So...if you find that formula be sure to share :)

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  9. Alison, I do not want to be discouraging in any way to any one. But I lost my husband just over ten years ago and I STILL miss all of the things that you are talking about. I just cannot find any way to replace what was such a major part of US. I have two wonderful male friends who I have spent time with sexually (very rarely), but that doesn't really fill the emptiness, the absolute lack of what my husband and I had. Even after being best friends for thirty years and being married for over fifteen years, we could not keep our hands off of each other and just looking at him could make my heart skip a beat and my breath catch. I am trying to come to a realization that nothing will ever be like that again, but that fact is incredibly sad to me. Thank you for expressing a huge part of our loss that most people do not discuss.

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  10. Oh Alison you nailed it! I'm at 30 months and the technical stuff is nothing compared to the not touching and the missing everything about him. I felt safe. He was alway there and then he wasn't. I miss those ordinary days. No one will ever "get it" but they can at least show some compassion and not rush us along.

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  11. Allison,
    Thanks for sharing. It's so true people try to empathize with what we go through, yet they seem to focus on how things are financially or with our children. I was married for 23 years, when my husband was dying I tried to imagine what life would be like. I felt so blessed to have had such an affectionate husband for so long. I never imagined what it would be like not be touched or kissed or have someone to lean my head on. There are days when I don't feel human. I feel more like an animal in a cage starved for love. I can see how loneliness can lead you to make wrong choices. As hard as it is I wont let this loneliness steer me into the wrong direction. I've heard someone say "you get used to it, being alone all the time". I don't think so, not when you had something so special. It's 18 months now since his death and lack of affection has only gotten more difficult.

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  12. I agree. No one talks about the loss of intimacy with our spouses. The cravings we experience for one more touch, kiss, hug from the man we loved so much. It's something we want so badly and can never have again. It hurts a lot.

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  13. Amen, sister. Preach it!

    The first time I leaned into a man to look at something he was pointing at, laid my head on his shoulder (not on purpose), it slammed into me with such force, missing being touched, missing having my love to lean into, to smell. And to know that missing it, longing for it, needing it - that it will only happen again with someone who is not the man I still love. So torturous and crappy.

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  14. Brilliant, fantastic, amazing. You nailed it!

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  15. Great words, I can totally relate 3 years out. Xi

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  16. Thank you so much for this. There is no answer. There are just platitudes from people who aren't lonely. I found a love a year after my husband died. I started taking care with my lotions, and my potions, and hairy legs. Then my new love died, and I went into the hole again. I'm coming out quicker, and with a lot less patience for those who think they know about loneliness. Talk the hand, because my heart will not listen. Peace and love to us all....

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  17. Your words speak for most of us. Me for sure. It's been two years and I long for HIS touch. Not just any touch. Impossible. So I sometimes find myself in a daydream... and as pleasant as the memory is it is painful in the same degree... You're not alone in your longing.... Thank you for sharing this.....

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  18. Perfect. Perfect. We are on about the same time line I think...almost 1 year. When do we stop thinking, "Oh my God, I can't believe this, how can he be gone?" Every work morning he turned in his office chair, put my bracelets on for me and hugged me, his head on my chest, my chin resting on the top of his head...then, "have a good day," and a pat on the butt. I miss everything from that to the most intimate moments. The longing for something that is impossible to have again is unexplainable to those who have no idea. You put that longing into words so beautifully and perfectly. Thank you. - Di

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  19. A few days after Dave died I remember having the thought "No more sex" hit me like a punch in the face. It honestly hadn't occurred to me yet and it didn't dawn on me. It bowled me over. I logically knew that at 35 I probably would have it again someday but it wouldn't be with him and I wouldn't know when that day would come AND I wouldn't be having it with someone I truly loved for YEARS because I knew that the chance of being ready for that was very very small. It was a scary prospect. I felt deprived. It was a physically painful thing to miss.

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