Would Our Spouses Be Happy .....

 picture from here

..... to know that we're in a relationship with someone?  Would they be happy to know that we might even love someone else?

A friend asked me today how it's possible to reconcile the love of two men ..... one very much alive, the other .... very much dead.

I told her that I'm not sure how it's possible, but it is.  And that's a fact.
I consider it to be the way a pregnant woman feels when expecting her second (or later) child.  You wonder how in the the world you are going to be able to love this next child as much as you love your first.  And you doubt that it's possible.  But then ..... the moment that second (or later) child arrives .... you wonder what in the world you were thinking?!  You hold that baby and forget any doubt that you ever had.  The second that child arrives your heart grows bigger.  Big enough to hold another person.

It's the same when you fall in love.  At first, you can NOT imagine ever loving another person the way you loved your spouse.  You know that it's not possible to love another man/woman .... ever.  In fact, you find that thought appalling.  You still feel married.  There is no room in your heart for another love.  And there never will be.

But then one day, when you least expect it ..... you meet someone.  Someone who is special enough to catch your attention.
And you feel a strange sensation in your heart.  Like it beats a little faster.  Or skips one or two beats.
You decide that you'd like to know more about this person.  And he/she feels the same way about you.
Then one day, one day that seems no different than any other day ...... you realize something.
You realize that your heart has somehow grown a bit larger.  And you never saw it coming.
You didn't really feel it happening.  You just wake up one day and know that something feels "different".
Your heart now holds love for two people.  And it's nothing short of a miracle.  And 100% possible.

And I'm here to prove it.
Jim is in my heart.
Jim will always be in my heart.
Always.
Forever.

And yet my heart has grown larger.  And now holds love for another man.
A man who is different from Jim.
A man who knows he's not in a competition with Jim.
A man who is secure in the knowledge that I love Jim, will always love Jim ..... and now I love him.  I love him as much as I loved Jim.
And that is truly a miracle.

What would Jim think of this?
What DOES Jim think of this?
I think he's thrilled.
I believe that he's as happy with this new love as I am.
I know that in Jim's heart ..... after God ..... I was number one.
Just as he was in mine.

He wanted me to be happy.
He wanted me to feel loved.
And secure.
And special.

Just as I would want him to feel.

People who have not been widowed don't get it.
Just one more thing they don't get.
I'm glad that they don't.
I hope they never need to.

But the rest of us ..... we're learning things we never wanted to know.
Like it's possible to love another person .... and not feel guilty or disloyal to our spouse.
At least I hope that you're all learning that.  Or will learn it.
Because true love wants only the best for its love.
Always.

I know that Jim wanted nothing but the best for me.
And he would love the man who loves me the way he did.
A man who puts me first.
A man who loves me unconditionally.

Yes, there have been times when I've wondered if it's worth it to love another man ..... and risk losing another one.
Is it worth giving my heart away again ..... perhaps to lose it all over again?
There have been days when I've thought, "No.  Don't love another man ..... you'll never survive that kind of loss again."

But I know that Jim would not want that for me.
He wouldn't want me to guard my heart so tightly that I never feel love again.
He wouldn't want me to be afraid to give my heart away ..... to feel too fragile to love and be loved.

And truthfully, I don't want that for me, either.
If I had my life and love to live all over again with Jim, knowing that I would lose him as tragically and as early as I did ..... I would still choose to love him all over again.
His love was worth the grief.

All love is worth the grief.
Being loved, feeling loved, giving love ..... is worth the risk.
Jim would think so.
And I've learned to agree with him.

Hands

A simple photo opportunity.

A day in the sun. A day with the one I love.

Our hands.

Proof that he is here for me. Proof that he exists here in my life. Proof that he offers his hand to me.

I sit here looking at this innocent photo that I took today.

My hand on his. His hand at ease. His hand already used to mine finding it's way over to his.

I am very fortunate. I never forget this. I never take the offer of his hand for granted.


It reminds me of another photo I took four years ago.


Another day in the sun. Another day with the one I loved.

Our hands.

Proof that he was there for me. Proof that he existed here in my life. Proof that he offered his hand to me.

My hand on his. His hand at ease. His hand already used to mind finding it's way over to his.

I am very fortunate. I never forget this. I never took the offer of his hand for granted.

Don't get too close

I went on a date a few weeks ago. It was a truly enjoyable evening spent talking, laughing and being with another adult....a man.

Although he talked a lot, he was funny, kind and really, really sexy. I wanted to reach out and touch him almost immediately.

The day after, he texted me to make plans for a few days later. I was thrilled!

But the day before our next date, I found myself finding excuses to not go. I could hear my mind scrambling for reasons that this particular day was just too busy. Searching for reasons to feel guilty for spending any more time with this man and sussing out any and all failings in his personality and appearance.

I am not proud of this behaviour. And when I left him a message that I had to cancel, I felt a bit sick to my stomach. But I managed to convince myself that he wouldn't care and that he probably had a lot to do as well thus alleviating some of my guilt.

Days later when he phoned, I acted cold and distracted. And when we were scheduled to hang out again, I cancelled....again.

To any outsiders, it would appear that I had found him lacking and was trying to shake him off. In actuality, I had developed a crush on him. I liked him. A lot. I wanted to be with him. To tell him things. To snuggle up to him.

But therein lay the problem. If I "liked" him, I might one day "love" him. And as I am well aware, he is going to die. Then I am just where I have been for three years, in love with a dead guy.

So instead of allowing myself some companionship, I chose to sabotage any amount of fondness that someone may have for me because I don't want to add to the *collection of urns under my bed. Ridiculous.

Because don't get too close....or I'll ditch you.

*The collection of urns under my bed isn't as morbid as it sounds....at least to a widow. It contains just one husband and two family dogs.

To Be Happy Once Again

Well, yesterday was a step into the next phase of my relationship with Abel, and the beginning of my family getting used to seeing me with another man.

It was the occasion of my niece and her husband baptizing their newborn baby boy. I drove up with two of my kids, and a new person at my side. It was not a surprise to them, as I had broken the news of this new relationship with them one week ago. Each of them were surprised to learn that I had been dating, and that I had chosen not to share the news with them for well over a month.

I let my family know that I needed some time to feel secure in being part of a new twosome before having to deal with the looks of confused emotion on their part. My family loved Michael, and they, like me, continue to grieve his absence from their lives.

Abel himself was a nervous wreck. I suppose it's always a big occasion when the new love gets introduced to the extended family members, and he wasn't quite sure how he would be received. He knew that my family had grown used to seeing me either as Michael's husband, or later, as Michael's widower. For the past two years they grew used to seeing me in a continued somber state of mind and emotion.

Once at the house, most of Abel's concerns began to melt away. My brothers and parents were very gracious in introducing themselves to him, and each spent some time getting to know him and wanting him to feel comfortable in their presence. At one point Abel leaned over to me and pointed out that my mother kept glancing our way. I reminded him that this is the first time that she has seen me with another man. It has to be both pleasing and bittersweet. Around this time my mother told me that my decision to move to San Diego has been the best choice I made for myself. She reminded me that I now have "a lovely home, a good job," and looking at Abel, then back at me, she said, "and now you have this."

On the long drive back to San Diego from our day in Thousand Oaks, I received a text from my older brother telling me that his day was great. Among those events that made his day was seeing me happy again. After reading the text to everyone in the car, my kids both chimed in, saying "Abel, we are so happy that you and my dad are dating."

Oh, to be happy once again.

Plus One

Wendy Diez is filling in for Jackie today who is headed to Camp Widow. She will be back next week. Thank you Wendy!

Not long after Chris died, I received a wedding invitation addressed to "Wendy and Guest."  It was one of the first visual affronts to my newly-acquired widowed senses.  I remember looking at the envelope and wondering, "Who the heck is Wendy and Guest?" 

I certainly sympathize with the couple who sent the invitation.  I'm confident that they struggled with how to address it as well.  They really couldn't win.  Address it to just me, making it obvious that my husband really was dead, and expect me to endure the beginning of their happily-ever-after all alone?  Or address it as they did, making it obvious that most people attend weddings as one half of a pair, but allow me to make the decision as to whether or not to drag some poor soul along.  I wound up not attending the wedding at all partly because I couldn't bear the thought of how painful it would be (regardless of how honestly happy I was for the couple) and partly because I had no idea who I would bring.  My mom?  My sister?  My 2-year-old son? 

Part of the sting of this situation is that I got married at the age of 34.  I went to many a wedding as "Wendy and Guest" and a lot of times it was just "Wendy."  When I married Chris, I thought my "and Guest" days were over.  It never occurred to me that I would be relegated back to this god forsaken place of no guaranteed dance partner so soon.  I don't like being in this place (can you hear the temper tantrum starting?).  This place is filled with uncertainty about whether I will ever go anywhere again as something other than "Wendy and Guest."  Let's face it, this place is....lonely. 

After two and a half years, I think it is finally starting to dawn on me that life is going on without Chris.  As much as I want him here with me, my life is moving forward and I am starting to envision what the next phase will look like. Instead of seeing "Wendy and Guest", I'm starting to see "Wendy and _____."  I guess that is what some people might call healing.  And that is a good thing.

By the way, if you are inviting me to an event before _______ appears, invitations addressed to "Wendy and George Clooney", "Wendy and Hugh Jackman", or "Wendy and Patrick Dempsey" will be perfectly acceptable.

are you ready for this?

Photo from here...

One of the questions I've asked myself frequently since Jeff's death is "Am I ready and do I want to date?"

Aside from the need for physical contact, I can't say that in the first year I was at all ready for "dating". Last year, my second year of widowhood, I thought I was. With trepidation and large amount of humility, I took a look at online dating.

I "chatted" with a couple of men. I was embarrassed by this and certainly didn't divulged to many of my friends that I was looking to date....especially via an online dating service. I felt that if these people were indeed single, there was probably a very good reason for it and they were most likely society's dregs.

Despite these prejudices, I agreed to one date after many emails and a couple of evenings of instant messaging one eligible bachelor. I felt I was ready to know more about this single father who lived aboard a boat with his young son. I was sure there was some flaw within him that rendered him "broken" but I thought I might as well get my feet wet without any strings attached.

After gearing myself up and looking fabulous (if I do say so myself), I sheepishly left my children with the babysitter. I felt terribly guilty. I almost turned back a few times as thoughts of "Am I really ready for this??? I can't believe I am paying a babysitter to be with my children when I am going out with some man....not their father. What must she think?" and "How can I still love Jeff if I am going to meet another man for a date?" and "What would my family say?....What would JEFF'S family say?"
I told myself I was ready for this. That it was time to reach out and feel cared for again. That Jeff would not mind one bit and that probably our families would celebrate that I was trying to keep living.

As I sat across from this man, this relative stranger, I heard myself telling him about my life thus far and vaguely listened to his tale of what brought him to this place. He was kind and funny. I grew more comfortable as the evening progressed. After dinner, dessert and coffee, he walked me to my car.

I felt almost nauseous, however, when we arrived at my car and he asked, "Can I ask you a question?" Thoughts of "Oh my God. He's going to ask me to kiss him. I don't think I can. What the hell? Maybe it won't be so bad. This is awful. Why have I done this?" sprinted through my addled brain.

Instead, with a smirk, he asked, "Do you think it's a good idea to show your date a picture of your husband the first time you meet?"

I am sure I turned purple with embarrassment as I thought of how this must seem. That I was pining for my husband.....And then I realized. I was. I had just shown a man that I was hoping to "date" a picture of the love of my life and extolled all my beloved's virtues all night. I was far from ready.

I thanked my date for his company, dinner and the lesson. Until I am ready to share a meal with another man without whipping out Jeff's portrait or talking endlessly about him, I am not ready. Like the other singles out there on the online dating services have a very good reason for being single...I'm messed up too.

But this year, my third, I think is the year. I no longer only talk about Jeff and his death. I am sure I am a much better listener and make far better company than I have in the last couple of years. And I can imagine myself sharing the company of another man without guilt.

But, maybe, just in case, I'll remove his picture from my wallet before any date just to make sure I am not tempted.....

Visualizing Change

I just returned from a camping trip with my brother and his family. It was at one of those family RV resorts, where everyone is parked next to each other, row after row. There were activities galore all weekend long, and lots of happy couples, excited kids, proud grandparents, and me.

Well, that's how it felt most of the time. I'm sure that to everyone one else, I was just one of hundreds of fathers, looking after their kids, and having a good time. I'm sure that they all figured my wife was back at the campsite, busy with her share of the activities, while I was supervising the boys. It's funny how we can feel so different from the others in such a crowd. It can feel so isolating.

I kept looking around, and didn't see many, if at all, single, or only, parents. I also didn't see a soul that looked like a gay parent. Just your run of the mill, cookie cutter, happy heterosexual couples, with their happy vacationing kids. You know, I'm the first to admit that I tend to easily fall into the trap of visualizing myself as someone on the outside looking in. It's easy to do, as I have had plenty of opportunities over the years to feel like someone on the outside looking in.

This weekend I didn't feel overly sad, even in the midst of all the joyous families. It felt like more of a reminder that I need to remain open to being back in the land of the living, and to visualize myself being one, as in one couple, among them. I know that for many that read here, the thought of being with another potential partner, or spouse, is something that seems unlikely, or odd. For me, I always expected that the day would come that I would need to be ready to move toward that part of this journey where new love might be an option.

This is something that Michael and I had plenty of time to think about, and to talk about. He always said he wanted me to find new love. He often made reference to my future boyfriend, or spouse, in our conversations. I think it was his way to make me comfortable with the idea. Lately, I have begun to feel that it is time to be open to this. For about the past six months I have had an ad on Match.com, but it was really something to help me make new friends. And, for the most part, it didn't work. I truly believe that it didn't work because it wasn't the right time for me. Being that I am gay, there is always the possibility that any new male friend that comes into my life could later develop into a new romantic partner. So, for that reason I didn't put much effort at all into meeting new guys.

Something is beginning to change. In the last couple of weeks I have suddenly become quite popular on Match.com. I have several guys writing to me, and trying to get an idea of what I am like. We are now at that point where you start discussing the possibility of getting together for coffee. I'm always so quick to tell new men that I meet that I am looking strictly for something platonic. That way I felt safe, and that I could perhaps have less pressure, or expectations, from the other guy about the possibility of romance.

With this new surge of interest, I'm feeling like someone is telling me it's time to take this step. I can't help but think that Michael has a hand in this. I'm not one who entertains the idea that the dead can reach out, and interact with the living. But, if they have some influence in this world, or in our lives, then I can say that I am definitely feeling Michael's energy these days. I keep visualizing his smiling face, and a wink in his eye. I keep visualizing him trying to convey to me that I need to get out of the house, and on with my life. I keep visualizing him trying to communicate this to me, reminding me that I am still young, and that I could use a good tire rotation now and then.

Maybe it's just me. I'm allowing myself to visualize a change. Perhaps I'm now sending out a new vibe that I am ready, and maybe, just maybe, I am beginning to see the possibility that I could once again find myself with somebody else, somebody new.

I am visualizing change.

One of THE Most Difficult ....

                                                                  photo from here
.... Posts I've Ever Written.

Something has changed.
And I wasn't even aware of it until 2 days ago.
Which is kind of freaking me out, because this change was huge.
So huge that it stunned me when I realized it. Literally.
And then I wondered how I felt about it.

I felt horrible and yet a little relieved at the same time.
And I kept this change to myself, thinking I could never admit this.
Not to anyone.

But then I read Dan's post and I commented to him that I am committed to being honest with all of you.
Yet .... even as I type this .... I wonder if I'll have the courage to hit "Publish Post".

Because although you are all some of the safest people I know .... and we almost always
connect with one another in a way that we don't with those on the "outside", I question
whether anyone will "get" this? And I wonder if you'll think what I first thought .... that I
am a horrible person for feeling this new way.

So .... I'm taking a deep breath and just jumping in. Because really ..... I can NOT be the only person widowed person .... who has experienced this.

Most of you know that I began a relationship with someone 2 years after Jim died. The first man that I met in my "after". We dated for a little over a year and then broke up a couple of months ago. It was very difficult to do, but we both knew it just wasn't working, even though we loved each other. And so we ended the "relationship", but not the friendship.
And we've both moved forward, though I haven't met anyone since .... and I don't think that he has, either.

Anyway, things have been going along well ..... until this past week. I have found myself thinking about him, wondering how he's doing .... wondering if we could make it work if we tried again, having learned a few things. Not making plans or anything really ..... just wondering. You know, wondering about the "what ifs".  Knowing that I'm the only one who's doing the wondering, so of course it won't work.  And that's OK.

But then a couple of days ago, on Easter, I started feeling blue. We'd had a good morning ... gone to church, had lunch and then my oldest son headed back to college. My middle daughter had left early that morning. And the blue started growing darker. I hate it when they leave. Then I started crying as I wandered though the house. I thought it must be that I was missing Jim, especially on a holiday. But then ..... out of the very dark blue ..... it hit me:
It wasn't Jim who I was missing. It was the other man.

I could not believe that thought was in my brain. I can't believe that I'm typing it out.... .... here .... for everyone to read.
And know.

So yes, I was .... and still am .... stunned by that change in me.
I mean, I know .... with every fiber of my being ..... that I still miss Jim. That I'll always miss him. And will always love him.

But to feel a change in the missing of him ..... feels horrible .... and yet positive at the same time.

How could someone who's lost the love of her life .... her first love, the only love she knew for almost 27 years ..... miss another person, a different person whom she loved for such a short time ..... more than she misses her husband? What does that say about her love for him? That it's fading? That she's forgetting him? That she must not have loved him enough? That she's a horrible person widow?

No.
No, that is not what it says.
Not at all.

After the first moments of shock and panic wore off, and in the time since then, and yes.... even as I've been typing these words .... I've realized that it says this about my love:  Jim and I loved each other so much that we felt more secure with ourselves. We knew that we were worthy of being loved. We knew that we deserved to be loved .... and to be loved well.
All because we loved each other.
We loved each other very, very well.

Because he loved me the way he did, the way I needed to be loved .... I am able to love again.
And I will love again. Hopefully.   And I will be loved the way I need to be loved.  Hopefully.
And that turns something that I first thought was horrible .... into something that is positive .... and very good.

And all because .... of Jim.
:)

someone to watch over me

Photo from here...

Recently, I was told of a widowed father who was married within one year of losing his wife. The story was told with the tones of scandal and betrayal. It was insinuated that if this poor man had truly loved his wife, he wouldn't have remarried so quickly or 'easily'.


I have heard stories such as this a few times since Jeff died. I have understood the implications of people not in our shoes that remaining single after losing your mate to death shows the outside world something of your feelings surrounding the loss of your mate.


But none of us widowed people seem to stand up very often and say, "Hold on a minute! I understand the impetus that propelled that person."


We are all too ashamed or embarassed by the memories of our own desires and hopes that finding someone to love us or fill the gap of the parent that our children/families would soothe our hearts.


I remember that before Jeff died we'd occasionally talk about what we'd do if/when the other person died. I SWORE I would never want to physically share a bed with another man. I truly believed it.


But when Jeff died, I longed to have someone hold me. I most certainly wished it could be Jeff....but since he was dead, I would cast my eyes about searching, hoping, needing the comfort that another body can provide. I would take inventory of my single male friends and wonder if they could/would protect me and my kids. If any of them would touch me and hold me and love me.


Of course, the people that I spent most of my time with wouldn't have understood this need - so I kept quiet.


But now when I speak to other widow/ers, those dark, early days are sometimes dredged up into conversation. And it seems to be pretty universal. We all long to have someone to hold us. To smooth down our hair. To love us. To watch over us.


And in the absence of the one we truly want, I am sure that occasionally the "stand-in" can fall into a small space made where the huge void developed. And maybe that is love. A new love.


I know that no one should judge this. It just is. And if it brings comfort and soothes a broken heart, who is anyone to say if it is "right" or "wrong".

This Time ....

.... I chose it.
Yep, this time I chose grief.
Although, in my defense ..... I really didn't know I'd be experiencing grief.
I thought it might be more cut and dried ..... but considering the amount of tears I've shed since Friday, it's anything but dried.

I ended our relationship.
We ended our relationship.
I instigated the "talk", but it was mutual.

I love him.
In fact, I now realize that I love him more than I thought I did.
He loves me.
I don't know what he's realized.
I only know that it's over.
It didn't work.
We just weren't right for each other.

I found out that I can love someone, but not be meant for him.
Or he for me.

I am sad.
I am beyond sad, though I've done much better these past two days.
And yes, I chose this.

Who knew?
Definitely not me.
Well, I didn't really, REALLY know that it would end, but if I'm honest (and you guys know that I always try to be truly honest with you) I'd have to say that I've been .... "questioning" the relationship for several months now.
I've innately known that something wasn't quite right.
But .... and here's the problem ..... I have only loved one other man.  In my whole life. Really.
Three guesses as to who that man was .... and the first two guesses don't count.

So I've considered myself "inexperienced".  And thus, I questioned my feelings.  And my thoughts.  And my intuition.
I questioned my innateness.

I thought that maybe, at this age and stage of life, I had to settle for companionship and not expect to feel crazy in love with someone.
Or expect someone to be crazy in love with me.
Thankfully, I now know that there's no way in hell I'm going to settle.
I'd rather be single for the rest of my life, than to wish that someone loved me the way I want to be loved.
I've had that love.
And I'm good with how much that love filled me.

So yay for me.
And yay for the experience of this relationship.
We both learned something.
We learned that we can love again.
And that we can be loved again.
And that, my friends, is a true gift that I feel God blessed us with.

I'm thankful for him and for the gifts he gave me.
I'm thankful for the love he gave me.
And the knowledge that I'm capable of love.
And the knowledge that it's OK for me to want to be loved the way I need to be loved.

I'm most thankful for his friendship.
We are still friends.
I hope that we will always be very good friends.
I want the best for him.
Whoever she is.

So ..... I chose this.
I chose grief.
I chose to not settle.
I chose crazy love .... or no love.

I chose to believe everything that Jim, and God, taught me.
I am special.
I am worthwhile.
I am deserving of love.  Lots and lots of love.
I am a woman who can love deeply, strongly and crazily.
I am blessed with an amazing group of family and friends who love me.
Very much.

Yes .... this time .... I chose.

I chose me.

crushing

Photo from Sidekickstudios

I have a crush.

A sweet, secret, hang-out-with-our-kids-at-the-park, crush.

When I see him, my heart does it's best impersonation of a two year old having a spastic temper tantrum.

I worry when I'm in his vicinity, that I act too eager. Talk too fast. Stare too intently into his kind, blue eyes. Fear that I may spontaneously transform into a giggly pimple-faced teenage girl if he accidently lets his hand graze over mine for a nanosecond when he insists on paying for my coffee.

It's be a looooooong time since I have felt.....well, felt for someone like this. And although I haven't been a 'nun', it's been since I met Jeff and became good friends that I have had these sorts of stirrings of 'something more'.

I don't know, however, if I am just so pathetically lonely that I am making my vision of our 'relationship' more than it is in reality.....Or if he is giddy and excited too when he sees my mini-van pull up outside the school gate.

I am SO out of practise and so overly....excited that I am afraid to move in any direction for fear of wrecking the perfect, sweet, 'G' rated thing we've got going on.....But, oh, if I had the guts.....

So maybe, tonight, I'll lay in my bed and do the strangest thing a wife could possibly do. I'll ask my (dead) husband's advice on dating. And maybe in the morning, he'll have enlighten me in my sleep.

Wild Crazy Lonely Shame

I'm lonely.

For several weeks I have been breathing in loneliness and exhaling it too. It soaks me in its wet, heavy haziness.

Every time I look anywhere, there is a couple, together, sharing a joke, a small gentle familiar kiss, a rest of a familiar hand on the small of a back, the lack of space between them

and all I can do was sigh.

When will my turn come?

It's no longer about dating men. It's about having one of my own.

I thought I had it with Mr. Singapore

only Mr. Singapore is well....

in Singapore for another four months.

I thought I had it with Mr. Bike,

only honestly, Mr. Bike is why I feel so lonely.

Mr. Bike is kind and warm and in the beginning so attentive. And then Mr. Bike stopped being attentive.

He's been so busy he says

He's opening a new store, he says

Reasonable excuses

But they

are

excuses

And when I voice my needs up against those excuses, I feel crazy.

And this is where I feel embarrassed. Instead of walking away, instead of saying "I am worthy of more than this" I picked up the attentive flame and ran after him.

"I'm here" I said, through txts and emails and phone calls.

I am not sure if I did it too much, not enough or if he just didn't speak the language but

I am not getting very much from him. Every time he throws me a damn crumb, I find myself hoping again.

I am having trouble letting this "relationship" go.

Laugher.

If this is a relationship then my standards have truly gone to an embarrassing low level.

Shame.

I think they have.

I keep him because he is the first man I can imagine keeping. I can see introducing him to my kids, taking him with us to the the ranch, hanging out with my friends. Because he is a most excellent kisser and because it's easy to be with him, when I'm with him.

I keep him because I don't want to be alone, even though I am.

And maybe that is his purpose, to show me the possibilities. To see that I can be in 'like' again, that I am capable of a relationship, that I want a relationship.

And I am afraid

that he is

all I can get.

The fear (and honestly the lack of faith) keep me entwined in him when it is better for me to let him go.

I am faced with this fact:

Being a widow, being someone who has profoundly lost

has left

me

shaken.

Death ripped me open

I am a "well dressed nerve" as my therapist says

and so I don't trust my judgment.

But staying feels awful.

Leaving is full of uncertainty and fear.

Just like death.

I will end this

or at least let it

fizzle out

I am tired of feeling wild crazy lonely

I have already been through so much.

But I think I may stay

for a little while longer

until another man

comes around.

I can leap to him

like a monkey from one tree to another

across the abyss

of loneliness.

The shame of not

being in

something

is

for me

better than being out of something.

I just can't take the loneliness anymore.

So I will take what he offers

until I can find better.

I will stay wild crazy lonely because

when he does give to me

it is exactly what I need.