Widow's Voice

Widowed Lessons…Not~

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What have I learned from Chuck’s death?

This particular question, posed to me either in genuine curiosity, or in a weirdly platitudinal manner, never fails to bring forth all the dark humor of my soul.

What do people possibly mean, what have I learned from Chuck’s death?

I no longer stumble in my response; I state it outright to them, always with a note of disbelief in my voice that the question was posited in the first place.

What have I learned?

WHAT?

Okay, here’s what I can tell you, in good faith and in all seriousness.

I’ve learned that life can be shit.

It can feel like shit, and you keep breathing even when you can’t breathe.

I’ve learned your mind almost breaks as it tries to comprehend the meaning of forever.

I’ve learned that it’s possible to claw at my skin, trying to rip the pain out of my body, but it doesn’t work and the pain remains, thrumming through your blood.

I’ve learned to understand that the human body can produce animal sounds from deep in the gut, and, as deep as the emotion is that pulls those sounds from your body, there is more that is deeper, that can never quite reach full expression.

I’ve learned that yes, I am as strong as I’ve always been, and death did not make me stronger; it only made me resent myself, as crazy as that sounds. Resent myself because I am so strong, when I would give everything I own to have a moment to just relax into arms wrapped around me. Resent myself because I can’t just break down; it isn’t in my nature. But what I would give to break and have people around me scurrying about to take care of me.

I’ve learned that it simply isn’t that easy to die of broken heart syndrome…because I considered myself the most likely to, and I didn’t and haven’t died of it. What the fuck?

I’ve learned that I can live two very real, but diametrically opposed, lives, and be fully present in both. Perhaps the fact that I’m a Gemini assists me in this. I live fully engaged in today, on the outside, creating and living a life, and also fully engaged in my past, with Chuck. Both worlds are real to me, and I dance quite easily back and forth between the two.

Keeping company with the life I live in the past is a rich fantasy life that I live in the present, but inside my head where nobody sees. In that world, I’m thinking mostly of Love and romance and a life that has nothing to do with the mundane activities I must engage in to keep my daily life going. External realities are not my true reality; my real world spins inside of my soul and my heart and mind, filled with images of romance and kisses and spectacular Love.

Chuck didn’t have to die for me to feel more compassion…more empathy towards my fellow man. He didn’t have to die so that I could suddenly realize the importance of showing Love to those I loved. I showed him every damn day, every minute of every day, how much I loved him, how much I felt loved by him. I showed Love to everyone in my orbit, thank you very much.

The only thing I know any longer is that when the longing and loneliness of Chuck’s absence from my side threatens to overcome me, I must default to Love. I must, for my soul’s sake, for my sanity’s sake, think about Love. I must remember that this grief is Love. And that Love maintains me. That Love is still here.

Love must always be the default.

As it was when I was a we with Chuck.

As it is now, alone.

Love is all there is, whether there is life or whether there is death and grief.

Love, quite simply, is all.

Love is.

Love.

 

 

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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