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What Remains, In This After of You

Posted on: August 22, 2018 | Posted by: Alison Miller

A trifold flag, presented to me at your memorial service.

Where are you, my beloved?

ID tags that hang over my bed or around my neck.

Where are you, my beloved?

3 children you raised with me, though they weren’t of your blood.

Where are you, my beloved?

A grandson who would tower over you in height, and who reminds me of you each time I see a picture of him.

Where are you, my beloved?

A son who lives your example of a life of service.

Where are you, my beloved?

Another son who loves science and philosophy, who holds your strong belief in family.

Where are you, my beloved?

A daughter who gently and quietly offers Love to those around her.

Where are you, my beloved?

The thoughts I have, the words I use to explain them, remembered from you.

Where are you, my beloved?

The simple tasks of daily life…putting gas in my car, walking for exercise, paying bills.

Where are you, my beloved?

The open road in front of my car, looking West, steering me into this new life.

Where are you, my beloved?

Words that tumble from my lips, as I speak with our kids…words that you once spoke to them.

Where are you, my beloved?

Words spoken to me from friends, spoken by you to them, about me and your deep Love for me.

Where are you, my beloved?

You are the whisper in the halls of memory for me, for so many of us.

You are my heart and my soul and my pulse beat, every moment of every day and all through the nights,

The days and nights that are in the thousands now, since we last touched.

You are my beloved.

You are in me and of me,

You are my passion and my pain,

My Love and my beloved.

Your Love for me echoes through these halls of memory,

Burns and singes and sears and sighs and yearns and wishes.

Fuels all that I am. All that I will ever be.

My beloved.

Categories: Widowed Emotions, Miscellaneous

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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