Widow's Voice

Living the W~

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I don’t know that I have anything in me to write about tonight.

I’m tired to my bones. My brain, my mind, my body, my bones.

All this covid shit has just worn down my already kind of fragile sense of self.

I’m tough as nails on the one hand. Sure of myself as I create color around me, create Love, look for Love. I’m sure of myself and my mission. I look so strong to the outside world. And it isn’t that I’m not strong and sure; it’s just that these things take a fuck lot more effort since Chuck died. This part of me is real as real can be.

On the other side is me just worn out tired and wishing Chuck was here with me. Longing for him fills my soul. I miss him loving me, and I miss loving him. In the flesh, I mean. I miss him standing next to me and with me.

These two parts of myself exist separately and authentically.

I guess it’s a good thing I’m a Gemini; having two parts of myself comes naturally and I’m very comfortable living 2 parts of myself.

7 years later, yes, the pain that resides in me is different from the first few years following his death. It’s a completely different pain, really, and not the same pain feeling differently.

My longing for him is excruciating as it flows through my veins and thumps with every heartbeat. I believe I would trade my soul to the devil in order to see him again.

I don’t know what to do with this intense longing.

There isn’t anything to do with it that I’ve found, other than allow it to fuel the Love I put out into the world and use it to help me connect with others.

I lose myself in remembering. A lot.

I turn on songs we loved, and I dance with him in my mind.

At night I try to imagine him snuggling up behind me as my eyes close in sleep, his arm around me…

And feeling so secure. So safe.

I suppose it might be strange to some, but when I’m out and about, walking, I keep my left hand free, and palm exposed, even all these years later. The hand he held when we walked together. Maybe I believe, in some otherworldly way, that I’ll suddenly feel the warmth of his fingers curling around mine.

Possibly I’ve gone over the edge.

Widowhood is everything I never wanted to live.

Anyhoo…I don’t know what I’m going to write tonight~

 

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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