I’m so sad that Chuck died and I don’t know anymore if it’s sadness that is emptiness inside me or emptiness with sadness and there is a burning wish in my soul to force myself into some semblance of feeling again, of connectedness again. In the last few weeks I’ve caught a glimpse, I think, into the world of soldiers and Marines who return from…
widowed feelings
Words
Twisting. Writhing. Hurting. Shrieking. Vomit urge. Nerves on skin. Racing pulse. Butterfly stomach. Dislocated. Disoriented. Discombobulated. Longing. Yearning. Starving. Reaching. Empty arms. Full heart. Meat-slicer in chest. Passion with no place to go. Love with no release. Wandering. Roaming. Searching.
Writer’s Block
NOTE: I wanted to start my post this week by thanking everyone who left such lovely and supportive messages on my last piece – Scared of the Anger. To receive your support after allowing myself to be so vulnerable really warmed my heart. I love our widowed community! — At every week’s end, I sit down to write this blog and sometimes…
Count on This
I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. From Grief Alone Is Left Entire, by Alexander PushkinThe poem from which the excerpt, above, was taken, could be considered rather bleak. The writer speaks of his grief being the only thing he can count on in this world.
Carrying the Grief Ahead
I’ve had little time to think in the past few days. I came down for the weekend to the beach a few hours south of where I live, with a bunch of friends. Like everything in this After Life, even the most ordinary stuff – like a beach trip – has significance and can feel heavy. I woke this morning early to write this – all my friends still dozing…
Disappeared
In this week of sunshine and gentle breezes and flowers blooming, I have felt a subtle shift in my grief. The warm weather and sprouting leaves have helped me to approach my days with hope. I have cried less often and smiled more. I have begun to consider how I might live this new life without him. I have had hours and days of calm and…
The Grim Reaper Repercussions
This past week or so I have been feeling very melancholy. This grief thing is a very difficult business. Will we ever get the hang of it? Will it forever be a process we can never escape? Will we always be struggling to slog our way through? The ever-changing game of it all is simply, some days, exhausting. I often feel as if death will be…
A Beautiful Dream
I was so happy in my marriage that when I look back and remember that time, it almost seems surreal. My incredible wedding day, filled with so much love, feels like a dream to the point where I start to wonder if it actually happened. A beautiful, delicious dream that had me walking on air for 45 days. I’d found a soul mate and we’d made the…
The Story
I met a new friend the other day and in the course of conversation The Story came out. You know the one. The Story. The one about how I was married and then wasn’t married. What happened, how it happened, what’s happened since then, what happened before then. Early on in my widowhood The Story was so deeply painful that I basically hid…
Highs and Lows
Writing this up a bit late today. It’s 10 a.m. on Friday morning, east coast time, and this blog is supposed to be submitted by midnight California / Pacific time – so, 3 a.m. last night. But sometimes by the time Thursday evening rolls around, I am so damn exhausted both emotionally and physically from going to work, going to the gym (something…
Spouse: Blank
Who would ever think that something as boring and mundane as reading your tax return would send you into fits of sobbing, post-loss? A tax return? Really? It’s not like I was even the one doing my taxes. Luckily, “I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy” (as Sal would say on “Breaking Bad”), who does my tax return for me. Actually, I am making…
Desperation
A few weeks ago, I became fully, wide-awake aware, that this grief was killing me. Not enough so that I’d actually physically die, but enough so that I continually felt as if a meat slicer was in my chest, merrily chopping away at my innards. At the same time it was as if an anvil such as blacksmiths might use, was slung around my neck,…