….. like someone alone in a canoe …… with no oar, no compass.

I feel as though I’m living in some kind of in-between layer of life.  It feels like I don’t belong anywhere anymore …… like a tree that’s been cut away from its roots. 
No place feels like “home” right now, or whatever “home” used to feel like.

My house in Texas is on the market and most of the time I feel like that’s the right decision.  But then the shadow of doubt creeps in and starts to cloud my mind and I don’t know what’s right for me.

I love NY, but I wonder if I’ll be too lonely in the long run.  I know that sounds crazy to most people …… how can you feel lonely in a place where almost 8 million other people live? 
I also know that I don’t have to explain that feeling here.  You get that.  You have most likely felt the same dark loneliness in a room full of people. 
I used to feel that way often in the first year or two of grieving.  I thought that it had passed.
I was wrong.

I seem to feel lonely no matter where I am.  Not all of the time, but definitely more lately.  Home is no longer “home”, but then …… neither is anywhere else.
I miss my roots.

I have no doubt that I’d be feeling something quite like this if Jim were alive.  After all, our youngest child left for college 2 months ago.  I know that this is partly “empty nest syndrome”.
But I also know that this “rootless” feeling is another result of his death. 
In a world full of couples, of shifted relationships, of empty bedrooms …… the person I most belonged with is missing.  The one relationship here on earth that I knew was as solid as stone no longer grounds me …… no longer helps me feel that I belong.

Experience tells me that this feeling will most likely pass.
It also tells me that it may take some time.
It does not, however, tell me what I should decide.
Or where I should put down new roots.

That’s where hope comes in.
I hope that this loneliness will fade soon and that I’ll be able to decide what my next step should be.

And I hope that I will once again feel a sense of belonging.
Wherever my canoe lands.