Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Next and Next and...Stop~

Mostly, I stay in the here and now.  Who can bear to even imagine 24 hours from now?  So I focus my eyes right in front of me, the next step, the next mile.

18 months and a couple weeks since Chuck's death and I still look down at my feet to see where they are and I stay there.   Mostly.

I'm in Key West right now, with my daughter, as I continue my Odyssey of Love for him.  Memories of him are everywhere and each one stabs into me with pain, a reminder that he's gone.  So, yeah, as I sat on a beautiful beach today staring out at the aqua waters, you might think I'd be appreciating the sun and sand-and you would be so wrong.  I stared out at the bright blue waters into the endless horizons of the Gulf and saw only the vast emptiness that echoes in my heart and my mind, untethered, took off into my future and the anxiety began pulsing through my blood with each pump of my still working heart and I wondered how the fuck do I do the rest of my life without him?

My daughter anticipates her return to Arizona and her husband and setting up their lives after her 6 months on the road with me.   Our older son who resides in Arizona is busy with his daughter and his
job and a new girlfriend and it looks like they have a future together, and our younger son in Connecticut is nearing the end of his schooling for EMT certification and he and his lovely girlfriend are planning their lives, and Chuck's daughter continues her active life with her two kids in Vermont.  
All of this is, of course, everything a parent could wish for, and I'm so thankful they are creating their lives.  I know they miss their dad dreadfully, and always will, but their lives are truly continuing and that fills my heart with love for them.

Today my brain slipped ahead in time, after I drop my daughter off.  Not in a self-pitying way but in a holy hell and fuck, what do I do next?  What do I do for the rest of my life without him?  I read about other widows who are years out, ahead of me, who talk about the still-there pain and grief and I shudder and flinch and think how unsustainable this is in every way but this is what I have and I don't know how to do this long-term.  How do I spend the rest of my life with his absence?

I'm open to love again,  I'm open to life;  each day I get up and drive and do and I'm involved and I meet people and new experiences happen continually and none of it touches that place inside me that just fucking stabs reminders into me.  My only worry, really, is that this pain will continue the rest of my life and that is completely and utterly horrifying to me.  I know that it can ease over time; I get that.  But how can it be that it isn't there always, in some form?  The level of grief is equal to the level of love one holds and even if another man comes into my life to love me and be loved, Chuck's absence will always be present.

He is missing from me and it's agony.  



22 comments:

  1. Thank you for this post. I found myself in tears last night and wondering how am I going to continue to live, without him. I don't see myself with another man, ever. My relationships with men have always been weird anyway, until I met him, and I had sort of resigned myself to being single before we got together. Now that I know what it is to have a real and emotionally present man in my life, I don't see how I could find someone who would accept my weirdness and also be the kind of man I want. How could I find someone to hold a candle to him? But then I feel so empty without him. Especially at night. I appreciate your words. Thank you for sharing them.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tricia,
      Chuck was also, for me, the first emotionally put together man to be in my life and it was a thrill after my first marriage. My dates always seemed to have a prison record, do recreational drugs, or be over 90. Chuck came along and I was swept off my feet for 24 years and how can I not miss that? And yes, what kind of luck will it take to find another such as he?

      We're all just wanderers on this planet, I think, trying to find connections.

      May your days, and nights, be blessed with light~
      alison

      Delete
  2. Alison, your words are always profound and so full of the truth of the pain of loss, grief, life and the not-knowing. I wanted to tell you that since I started writing and reading here, pink has become my new favorite color. Never before did I ever gravitate towards that color. I was always blue. But now I want everything pink. A friend gave me a new pink hat. I bought new pink clothes, pink nail color, pink jewelry...I crave pink, and every time I see it, I think of you and how your husband requested to grieve in pink instead of black. I find it so deeply meaningful somehow... I can't explain. But pink it is. Pink is the color of my grief, and you will always be in my heart.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Stephanie,
      I find strength in the color pink and my plan is to continue to surround myself with it in every way. It is my armor in every way. And on some days, I even paint my face with pink and white war paint-those days when I need extra strength. So, may your declaration for pink continue strong for you. And, I hope, you and I might meet one day and we'll get an amazing picture~
      alison

      Delete
  3. Allison, I am at 22 and months trying to stay in the present-taking steps, moments, breathing, inching my way along on this forsaken journey. but ALWAYS in my mind is the same question How the fuck am I going to live the rest of my life without Jon??? HOW??.Thanks so much for sharing your heart every week.. Michele

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Michele,
      I wonder if that question ever goes away? Or does it become "how the fuck have I gotten this far without him?"

      Thanks for touching base with me~
      alison

      Delete
  4. I so get where you're at, Allison, my grieving heart clings to him and what was as well. The future??? I don't know, as you I'm still one day at a time, always missing him, always grieving, almost 5 years. Some days it still seems like yesterday, some days it seems like forever, on and on it goes.I thought by now I'd have a life, be engaged in it, but that is not happening, and I don't forsee it happening...I so want out of it, still.
    So I don't have any answers for you, just know that you are not alone in how you feel, especially at night. I wander about when awake and asleep, in my dreams, so wanting what was, what we had together, and wonder how long can I go on like this? I'm no longer the person I was, no longer care about what seems so mundane, this day to day existence. Hoping we all find our way to peace.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Cathy,
      When Chuck was in hospice, I found a quote that I really liked and it said "we're all just walking each other home". I love that. That's what we were doing for him, and it's what we all do with each other now, supporting and reaching out to one another.

      Thanks for walking with me~
      alison

      Delete
  5. Oh, my, Stephanie...as I said to my daughter when she started liking pink, after never having liked it....you have come to the pink side! I find it to be a color of strength and joy. I need one and I crave to find the other.

    You can NEVER have too much pink-there are too many shades of it. May it color your world as you venture forth, as it does mine.

    And thank you for your words today~
    alison

    ReplyDelete
  6. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  7. It's been 4 1/2 years since my husband passed, I am in a new relationship, however; the pain of losing "your everything" remains. I am fortunate that my someone new understands the grief and the yearning to live again amongst the pain as he too is widowed. I enjoy my life, I love my new experiences and along with that continues the pain of loss. I can fall right back into the depths of my loss, the years have taught me how to pull my self back up a little quicker than before...until the next time. I've accepted that I love so deeply and completely, therefore; I will grieve the same.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Becky,
      It's a double-eged sword, I imagine, and maybe the perfect yin/yang of life. Perfect happiness/perfect sorrow...

      And yes, I believe it to be true: if we love deeply, we grieve deeply. And that, sort of, is also perfection~
      alison

      Delete
  8. I also know how you feel, Alison. It's been 14 years since my husband and soul mate passed, and I'm still creating my new "normal." I never thought I'd still be alone, but I've always been independent (thankfully) and refuse to settle for something less than what I had with Phil. One thought did occur to me, for whatever it's worth. I've always had to work full-time and have continued to do so after my husband's death. I did take a 3 month leave (I actually became a widow AND an orphan within the same month) to "deal with" my abject grief. But, while that time away from work was somewhat of a blessing, it was also somewhat of a curse. I had TOO much time to focus on my losses and the life I would never have again. Returning to work and staying crazy busy seemed to help me the most. Maybe you would find some benefit from that approach, too? Whether it's paid work or volunteer work, it would give you something else to focus on during your waking hours. Anyway, as I said, it's just a thought. Regardless, know that I wish you much peace as you search for your new "normal." HUGS!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I do believe that distraction, in whatever form, can be helpful in grief, or any hard times. I'm not in a situation where working a regular job is an option, with full-timing on the road, but I have to say that living as I'm living is a distraction in and of itself. Each day is a new place to drive, new roads (on my own, at least), and new experiences. Towing a trailer, camping for the first time in my life-it's constant newness in every way.

      Maybe, after our dear one dies, we're always creating our new normal. I heartily agree with you that I'll never lower my standards, and will not settle for less than what I had~

      Returning peaceful wishes to you~
      alison

      Delete
  9. I loved your post.. it speaks my feelings also.. I believe we will never truly recover. I am in a new relationship now it will be 2 years in Dec. I was married for 31 years. I don't think there will ever be a day for the rest of my life where I will not think of him.. right now I think of him almost all day.. memories just flow into your head.. and what makes me sad is that one day there is a possibility that I may look at the calender and 20 years would of passed without him.. that scares me.. I try to stay in the present like you mentioned because truly that is the best way to be..Until we meet with them again..

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Until we meet with them again...and as we walk each other through the missing-ness~
      alison

      Delete
  10. Alison, You ladies are not alone, we males feel the same way!

    Great post and valuable insight. We are all searching! We all miss the touch, caress, kind words and wonder about the future.

    Montana hugs to everyone!

    Dewey

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dewey,
      I wonder, often-times, how my husband would have handled the grief of missing me, and I wonder if he would have done a better job of it. Silly, I know, because he and I spoke of such a thing over our years together; what it might be like for the one left behind.

      I'm currently in San Antonio, Texas, so sending hugs to you from here~
      alison

      Delete
  11. Thank you for this. It is exactly… EXACTLY my day today. Like you - I've been on a whirlwind journey of my own this year with the self portrait series I've been doing. It's a different kind of journey, but one that has kept me in the present moment a great deal like yours. It's been good for me. I'm over halfway done with it now, and the fears are starting to creep in. The FUTURE is starting to creep in. What the hell do I do with myself when this project is over? I feel at times like I need to have a constant succession of things happening in my "now" so that I can always stay one step ahead or removed or distracted from the horrific truth of my life. I'm scared that once this project is done that I won't know what to do - and that I won't have anything in my "now" to put myself into and i'll get swallowed up by the reality again. UGH.

    Again thank you. Your journey has inspired me so much. And today I truly feel a little less alone and at least like someone else gets exactly the kind of agony I am feeling today about having to live the rest of my life with this absence. I really don't know how I will do it. Somehow, we both will though.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think, Sarah, that it maybe becomes "how the fuck do I do this?" to "how the fuck have I done this?"

      And I don't know that we can ever truly answer that question, because we just "do"...
      alison

      Delete
  12. HELLO, WELL I HIT MY WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN 40 YEARS MARRIED!!!! WOW...BUT DIDNT GET TO FEEL THAT...I UNDERSTAND THE ANGER WITH IT ALL..BUT I HAVE CAME TO A REAL UNDERSTANDING.. NOT WILLING TO SETTLE.. NOT HAPPENING I WILL FINISH THIS LIFE ALONE FIRST...THIS WEEKEND I ALSO WAS ON THE BEACH... I SAT WONDERING... THEN A COUPLE COMES SITS DOWN BESIDE ME CELEBRATING 50YRS SAME WEEKEND AT BEACH..NICE COUPLE.. I WISHED THEM WELL... AS THEY WALKED AWAY FROM ME HE TURNED AROUND AND SAID HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO ME!! I SAID THANK YOU..THEY GOT THEIRS AND IM HAPPY FOR THEM..SAT THERE AND WATCHED THE SEAGULLS BY MYSELF.. 40YEARS... NO MORE DREAMS OF RETIREMENT..ALL GONE..ALL THOSE CONVERSATIONS WE HAD ABOUT OUR RETIREMENT ALL GONNNNNNE NOW.. GONE. NEVER TO BE..MY HEART WAS NEVER BROKEN IT WAS SHATTERED BEYOND BEYOND..6 YEARS AND 3 MONTHS NOW WIDOWED.. IM SURVIVING....NOTHING IS PERMANENT HERE...NOTHING..HES WAITING FOR ME ON THE OTHER SIDE..I KNOW THAT..FOR EVERY WIDOW OUT THERE NOW I WISH U ALL WELL IN YOUR JOURNEYS...ITS A RUFF ONE..BUT U WILL FIND YOUR WAY..GODS BLESSING OF STRENGTH TO U ALLLLL... NOV,9, 1974

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wishing you strength, and, though late, an anniversary of remembering the love~
      alison

      Delete