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It’s the 3 Dots at the end…

Posted on: September 21, 2016 | Posted by: Alison Miller

Of course you’ll always miss your husband…..

It’s the but that you can read into those little dots at the end of that sentence that contain the crux of what the person is really saying.

….don’t hang onto the grief….

….it’s your decision to be happy or not….

…..if you’re still struggling with grief, maybe you should go on medications….

Add to this whatever you wish.

And what I want to say to those who put those periods at the end of that sentence is…..

Don’t you know that, for me, this is what missing my husband looks like?

Do you know what skin hunger feels like…

Do you know what it feels like to have your world ripped out from underneath you, from around you, from over you…

Do you know what I mean when I say that there is not one damn thing in my life, or life around me, that is the same as it was and that, all by itself, is overwhelming…

How can I explain in any way that is understandable what it is like physically to feel my energy yawning out of my body, into the air, and know that it’s simply lingering there because there is nobody to receive it…

Do you know how confusing it is to be told by so many, professionals and otherwise, that grief is as individual as a fingerprint and there is no timeline….and then feel the judgement that, well, of course  there isn’t one but it’s been this long this long this long and you should be finding joy and happiness again….

Do you get that I shared a lifetime of love and marriage with my husband, with shared practical responsibilities, as is normal, and there is a steep learning curve as I strive, as quickly as possible, to know what one half of our marriage knew and now that he’s gone, all of what he knew is gone and I’m doing this at a time when grief fogs my memory…

How do I find the words that express the depth of the sorrow that is in my heart that my beloved husband is dead and my world is empty without him…not because I’m depressed or hanging on in an unhealthy way or anything like that but just, simply, sorrowful and heart heavy, and it’s normal that I feel this way…

What words will help you understand that when my beloved husband died, it wasn’t a simple unweaving and unraveling of a life lived with me but a ripping apart and shredding and now I must weave his death into whatever new life I must I am creating and that  it can, that it might, that I expect it to, take a lifetime and that’s okay too…

And all that needs be said in response is….tell me about your beloved husband….tell me a story of him and your love….

And that will always, truly and honestly, be enough and it will feed my hurting soul….

Categories: Widowed, Widowed Emotions, Miscellaneous

About Alison Miller

My beloved husband Chuck died while we were full timing on the road. We’d rented a condo for our stay in southern CA, and I had to leave 3 weeks after his death. All I knew at that time was that I had to find a way to continue traveling on my own, because settling down without him made me break into a cold sweat. I knew that the only place I’d find any connection to Chuck again was out on the roads we’d been traveling for our last 4 years together. I knew nobody out on the road, I knew grief was a great isolator, and I knew I had to change the way I traveled without him, to make it more emotionally bearable for me. So I bought a new car, had a shade of pink customized for it, bought a tiny trailer and painted the trim in pink, learned how to tow and camp, and set out alone. My anxiety was through the roof, and all I knew to trust was the Love that Chuck left behind for me. I found Soaring Spirits early on, thank god, and the connections I made through SS helped ground me to some extent. I needed to know that other widow/ers were out there in my world, because I felt so disoriented and dislocated. Through Soaring Spirits, as the miles added up, my rig taking me north, south, east and west, I found community. I found sanity…or at least I learned that if I was bat shit crazy, I was in good company, and realizing that ultimately saved my sanity. PinkMagic, my rig, is covered with hundreds of names of loved ones sent to me by my widowed community, and I know it isn’t visible to the naked eye, but I’ll let you in on a secret…she actually illuminates Love as I drive down the many roads in our country, and I can see it through my side view mirror. Love does, indeed, live on~

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