Friday, January 16, 2015

Catch

The other day, my cat Sammy was lying on the couch, when my other cat Autumn jumped up next to him. She looked at Sammy for a few seconds, and then started to slowly lick him and clean him all over his face and neck. This went on for awhile. Then, she sort of kissed his nose a bit, and slowly sat herself down right next to Sammy, leaning against him, and they both went to sleep. In the midst of this, I ran to grab my cell phone and find the video option so I could take video of this unbelievable sight. As I looked through my phone's video, catching only the last few seconds of this madness, I started to cry.

 I was crying because this was the first time ever since we brought Sammy home, that Autumn went up to Sammy and didn't attack him or growl at him or swipe her paw at him violently. I cried because my husband and I got Sammy at the rescue shelter, just days after Autumn's sister Ginger died suddenly from a blood clot at age 3, and Autumn never really accepted Sammy into her life, until now. I cried because whenever Autumn used to randomly attack Sammy and Sammy would cower away and back down, Don would cheer him on, saying: 'Come on, Sammy. Don't put up with that. Fight back, buddy! Come on! One day you'll be friends. You will. Just give her some time. " I was crying because this was that day - and Don wasn't here to witness it with me. And I was really crying because I still, even after three and a half years, instinctively picked up that phone to film them, with the intention of showing the video to Don later. Three years, and this is still my immediate response when something happens in life. I have to tell Don this. I gotta call hiim. Let me record this so I can show it to him later. It still takes me a few seconds to remember what I never really forgot - he is gone. He will never witness the video or see the tape or watch the TV show or check out what our niece did the other day that was so cute, or anything else, ever again.

That really sucks. I mean, having to come to that same realization, over and over again, really sucks a lot. It sucks that he cannot see the relationship between our two furry monster children changing. But you know what sucks even more about it? The fact that nobody else on earth cares about that moment. That tiny moment, which would be SO significant and meaningful to me and my husband, is significant to absolutely nobody else, except us. There is literally nobody I could have called or hunted down in that moment, who would have understood what it meant, or why I was so moved by it, or who would have genuinely cared with everything inside of them about this, the way that Don would have. That is what sucks about it most. And there are a billion and one other moments just like that one - they happen all the time - moments that only matter to me and Don. Jokes that only we would get. References that only he understands. On and on and on .......

How does one fill this very specific and particular void that is left behind when your partner dies? How? I don't know. I don't think you do. I don't think it's possible. I think it just continues to suck each and every time that one of those moments happens, and you just sort of learn to live with the silence of not being able to tell your person about the latest thing that only he would care about. It feels like a sentence that needs finishing. It resembles a ball being thrown, and stopping in mid-air somehow, never caught by another person. It mirrors standing on a tightrope, up in the sky, nothing below, nowhere to go. Not moving forward or backward, nobody on the other side to fall into; but just balancing - swaying - holding on.

At first, it is shocking to feel such unwavering dizziness. It is shattering to have things happen, and then have nowhere to put them, nobody to acknowledge them with. But after awhile, it becomes the norm, and the moments that meant something to only you and him - they fade into the walls like cloudy air, and become nothing but piles of fragments and dust. It's kind of like that old riddle: If a tree falls in the forest, and no-one is there to hear it .......

Well, you know the rest.

19 comments:

  1. Oh Kelley, I feel exactly the same. There are jokes only my wife would get. I remember once we saw what looked like a normal scene but to us it was funny and we both burst out laughing and everyone stared at us strangely. Yeah, now I read or hear something funny and it fizzles like a wet firecracker. I travel but theres no joy because I cant point out something or call her to tell her about it. Thats part of why we in this club seem sad most of the times; its because that special someone is not there to share it with us? Thats why we are usually silent. I have been told by people who didnt know I was widowed that when they saw me they thought I always seemed lost and in my own bubble. Then they knew me and discovered I was widowed and they figured thats why. I didnt know I looked lost...oh well.

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  2. Kelley, I so get what you're saying. I'm right there with you. My husband died suddenly and unexpectedly 3-1/2 years ago. I see a date and my mind immediately says "oh, Rich was alive then" or "Rich was gone then." Moments and events in my life are seen and felt relative to before and after my husband died. My life, that was being lovingly shared for 16 years with my husband, died with my husband. I miss him so much; I always will. Karen G

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    1. Dear Anonymous, thank you for saying the words I couldn't find... It's 8-1/2 months since the love of my life died.. and I 'm doing the same thing this was before or this was when he was still with me... We were together 43 years....so hard to get through this life without him...

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  3. I so understand, Kelley. It's been 3 1/2 years for me, too, and I can't even count the number of times that I've experienced something that I wanted to share with my soulmate. As most deeply connected couples do, we had a private language that only WE understood. And now, there's no one share it with. It sucks, it really sucks... But we learn to carry it with us; we have no other choice.

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  4. It doesn't become the norm for me. It will never be the "norm". I am slowly but surely burying myself. I can't take those moments anymore. After two years I am tired of those moments. So so tired.

    The significance of what your two kitties did reaches deep into the field of meaning. It sent me down that rampaging river of tears. It's ok though. I was on my third day of not crying which was a record but the headache was really bad. Now it's gone…….thanks

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    1. Im sorry hon. I hope my post didnt upset you.

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    2. Kelley Lynn,

      It's not you. It's me. Reading your post just gave me more insight into how devastating the prospect of living is. I have those "moments" all the time still at two years (on Jan 21st). At 63 and 35 years of love and having grown up in the same hometown as my husband i am finding it nearly impossible to disconnect. I do everything i can to stay busy ( sold our home and have rehabbed two houses in the interim) yet there is no consolation to what lies ahead.

      The headache was there before I read your post and I think it was from having gone into the third day in two years without crying. I think my brain didn't know how to respond other than to give me a headache and after crying knowing how much your post rang true it got better.

      So no, you didn't upset me. I'm just in a bad place and reading how others attempt to get through this actually does help. Sometimes my writing is too brief and staccato though, which is probably why you thought you were the cause.

      Take care and give your little kitties a hug from my little one, Spooky.

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    3. Kelley Lynn,

      I had written prior to now to let you know your post didn't upset me it's just when I read something like you wrote I can feel the same thing. I had written a more detailed response but now I can't reconstruct it as I am too tired and just don't have the energy but please know…….it wasn't you. It's just sometimes I write too abbreviated and cryptic and it sounds the opposite of what I meant :). Take care…….and thanks for your beautiful post. It makes me remember how much I really miss my husband. In two days it will be two years and it seems like an eternity…….

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    4. Kelley Lynn,

      I had written prior to now to let you know your post didn't upset me it's just when I read something like you wrote I can feel the same thing. I had written a more detailed response but now I can't reconstruct it as I am too tired and just don't have the energy but please know…….it wasn't you. It's just sometimes I write too abbreviated and cryptic and it sounds the opposite of what I meant :). Take care…….and thanks for your beautiful post. It makes me remember how much I really miss my husband. In two days it will be two years and it seems like an eternity…….

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  5. Four years still can't deal, cope or mainly understand how such happiness is gone forever

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  6. Feeling it all as you.all do. May God help.us all to find a small measure of peace in our lives. Stay strong. They would expect us to. Peace...

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  7. dear Kelley,

    i wrote a comment, pressed preview to check it, and POOF it disappeared. so with my little pea brain i will try again.

    i feel those same things you wrote about, those times when something happens and for just a second i want to tell Hugh about it - then it all comes crashing down because he is gone and will never again get to share something only he, my person, would understand. every single day there is a new memory that surfaces along with the awful realization of Never Again...sometimes i think i am going insane. a few days of feeling happy, then some little something sends me into the depths of despair, erasing all the good stuff I've tried to store up and be grateful for. i cannot comprehend how the human body, mind, and heart can withstand the tortuous high-highs, then lowest lows - often felt in the blink of an eye, completely out of the blue.

    i am glad you wrote the story about Autumn and Sammy; it really does demonstrate how something so beautiful like Autumn's sweet tenderness towards Sammy, something that Don would have loved to have seen, was so heartbreaking.

    animals know stuff - on so many levels. maybe Autumn knows how much you miss Don; and maybe as she misses him, too, she knows that Sammy feels that same loss of their Daddy. and just maybe, at that moment when she became so loving and tender to Sammy, she knew it would make you happy. it amazing to know that Don's prediction - "one day you'll be friends" - came true, right while you were there to see it happen. i hope that in the aftermath of such painful grieving, the gutting realization that he didn't get to live to see it in all it's incredible wonder, will somehow give you even a little comfort. pet Autumn and Sammy for me - i love animals and don't know what i would do without my girl-pup, Sadie; she still, from time to time, searches for her Dad, and sits in his place on the sofa every night. i am so grateful that we have this place to share our stories and know that we are not alone. thanks, Kelley. this post was written so eloquently, and it really spoke to my heart. love, Karen

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    1. Thanks Karen. This helps . Sometimes I like to think that maybe Don himself , his spirit, his energy, whatever - had something to do with these moments happening, that he does know, on some level, that his prediction came true. I HOPE he knows. I just dont know if Im convinced of that, but it sure does make me feel a little better if I can try and believe he knows.

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  8. Hear you loud and clear Kelley. Probably the one thing I absolutely miss the most. The sharing of those uniquely special "only us" moments.

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    1. Yes exactly. only us. And soemtimes I want to keep them only us, and not share with anyone else but him. So I talk out loud to myself and to him, and tell him anywway. It just feels so lonely to do that sometimes, and I just wish he was REALLY here to experience these moments.

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  9. Dear Kelley, There is only one correction I'd like to make to your post. You can tell all of us, your widowed BFF's, about things like your cats finally coming to accept each other, and we care, we get it, we love to hear about your special moments that you can't share with Don. And we are so grateful that you choose to share them with us.
    Thank you. (Written through tears of happiness for you and your feline companions.)
    Carol M.

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    1. Thanks Carol. I know I can tell you guys, and I know you get it, but Don is the ONLY person who knows the whole backstory and meaning behind these little tiny moments - its just one of those things that I NEED to share with him and nothing else is good enough. You know what I mean? I know you do , and I thank you for caring :)

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  10. Dear Kelley, It has helped me to read your post and the responses to it. I am new to this. My daughter looked up grief help today. She has been very worried about me and I have pulled in and not reached out and she felt this would help me. It has, I totally get all you wrote. I have had so many of those emotions. My husband& my son died 20 months ago. I really needed to read your post , it helps me know I'm not crazy and know others are dealing , it may be different in ways, but grief is taking it's toll . You helped me . Thank you Dianne C.

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    1. Lula Bell ... our Widow's Voice blogs have moved to our Soaring Spirits web site. Kelley still writes on Fridays. You'll find them here: http://www.soaringspirits.org/blog

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