Life in the after is strange and weird and ill-fitting .
What once was no longer is.
Our physical world changes as intensely as our emotional world after our person dies.
Even if our surroundings are the same, there is a person missing from those surroundings.
The chair where our person sat. The table where you ate with him or her to eat meals. The bed you shared, that you maybe can’t sleep in now that you’re alone.
I didn’t have that familiar place when Chuck died; we’d sold our home to full time on the road and I’d become accustomed to military quarters and inexpensive hotels as we traveled the country together.
The one constant for me in our traveling life was Chuck. No matter where we were, he was there. My feet and my soul were well grounded, whatever my surroundings.
As I’ve gone along in these years of Chuck’s physical absence, living in my tiny trailer, staying with friends and family in their homes, workamping, my wheels always parked somewhere new, it barely really matters what the world looks like around me.
My heart and soul live in duality.
On the one hand, I’m fully engaged in life. In creating a life for myself, reaching out to people, seeking out new situations.
And on the other, life is still strange and weird and ill-fitting; my inner consciousness recognizes it even as my outer self goes about living.
There exists in me a hyper awareness of an emptiness. A lack. Something missing.
Which doesn’t surprise me in any way. After all, I was always hyper aware of Chuck’s presence when he was alive; the energy between us was alive and vibrant.
How can his absence be any less?
I don’t know if this will ever change. I suspect not, and that’s pretty much okay with me.
Within my world where nothing is okay because he’s dead, I’ve made a life for myself that is colorful and bright and sparkly and dedicated to Love.
It’s what works for me~