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Rocketman

Posted on: June 24, 2019 | Posted by: Staci Sulin

Sunday morning I took myself to a diner for breakfast.

Our diner.

It was not easy to go there without him. I’ve done it before, but never on a Sunday, their busiest day. I said “ for one”, and I sat myself at the countertop. 
I ordered myself a coffee – for one.
Great tunes were playing.
And, it felt good to be there.

I will admit, I did almost cried on the way there as it’s on the way to Mike’s house. The intersections, the pub, the grocery stores, the drive-in. All of it. It’s all still here, even now that he’s not. To say the drive was filled with emotional landmines is an understatement. But, like all good things, breakfast was worth it.  I’m worth it.  Mike is glad I came.  I can feel it.

 

 

I ordered his favorite meal, the classic sausage patty and eggs.  It tasted good – even without him sitting across from me.  It is just like I remembered it was.  The food hasn’t changed even though the exterior of the building is now painted the nicest shade of pale yellow.  When Mike was alive the building was painted a sage green colour.  Now, since he’s died, like so many other things, the old building has been altered.  Nothing in life remains constant, not even our diner.

I sat alone and I felt “fine”.  The coffee was good and the service was friendly as always.  So much was exactly as I remember it.  But, so much is different too.  Instead of talking to Mike, I spent my breakfast messaging with a fellow police widow who I met through an online grief group.  She just happened to reach out to me to “check in” and see how I was doing.  Kind of her.  Since Mike has died, I have met and been surrounded by so many good people who love me in his absence.  These good people fill my heart.  But, nothing, not one damn thing, can feed the hunger in my Soul that exists since Mike died.  Not even the enormous meal I ordered could fill me up.  I think that’s a tall order, even for the Mike’s sausage patty and eggs. 

 

When I was sitting at the countertop quietly eating my meal, Elton John’s “Rocketman” came on.  

“I miss the earth so much I miss my wife. 

It’s lonely out in space . On such a timeless flight. 

And, I think it’s gonna be a long long time.  Till touch down brings me down…” 

 

Mike really does try to let me know he’s “here”.  That I am not alone.  That he will never leave me.  I appreciate the signs and the way he “speaks” to me through music.  But, I want more.  I want to hear his voice again. But, alas, there is nothing more he can do for me in the physical world.  He’s out of words.  But, he’s not out of love.  In fact, his love for me is stronger than ever.  

When I am out LIVING my best life he is closest to me.  I feel it.  In fact, I messaged my friend to tell her just that.  I typed to her “I really feel him” and at that exact moment the owner of the diner came up to me.  She intently looked at me and said “Good Morning.  How are you doing?”.  And, the way she looked at me was intense to say the least.  She looked right through me.  I really feel like Mike was looking at me through her eyes.  As odd ball as this might sound, I know this is what happened.  And, it felt good.  Mike is here.  He is “with” me.  His arms are still wrapped around my life.

~Staci

Categories: Widowed Signs from Loved One

About Staci Sulin

It is my privilege to write to you each week and I hope my blog inspires you to lean into your grief. This isn't easy, but it is the only way through this mess.

I believe that we are lead back towards life and living when we allow ourselves to be still, and sit in the "nothingness" where grief lives. Visiting this empty place is difficult, but it is necessary. This quiet place holds the blueprints of our new, alternate life.

I know you are scared to go to the edge of this place; admittedly, I was too. But, in order to reenter life, we have to take a leap of faith. With time, I gathered momentum and I took the leap - building my wings on the way down.

It has been nearly five years since Mike died and I realize that what I feared most about the future was not the obvious uncertainties; but, rather, the possibility of letting new beginnings and a good life to pass me by. I was afraid that I would settle into an ordinary life when I want an extraordinary life.

I worried that I would play small, when my potential is big. As I write to you each week I am challenging us both not to shrink. I am keeping us accountable. I do not want either of us to fall back into an easy comfortableness when we can leap forward, towards a bold life. I want you to manifest the best in yourself. Go on, begin to recreate a beautiful life for yourself.

From the Ledge with Wings in Hand,

Staci

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