Oh grief, if only I had the energy and persistence that you
exert in my life. This may be one of my
strangest blogs to date, but I opened this can of chaos and there’s no point in
trying to put the lid back on now. If
you are one of my friends and care, you’ll understand. If you’re curious, I hope you find it
enlightening and at the least entertaining.
And I suppose I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. This is my story, my thoughts, my decision to
share.
You see, I post and share more than many, many people
would/do. I think the reason for this is twofold. I have no one at home to talk to. Social media has given me some interaction
that otherwise wouldn’t be available. It
has saved me from despair on more than one night and brought much joy on many
more than that. I also share, because I’m
experiencing something that, if it were a sister or a best friend, co-worker,
or even an acquaintance going through what I have, I would have no idea of how
to be helpful and would probably totally botch things with the very best of
intentions. I’m not suggesting that my
blog should be categorized as a “how to”, but I do want to offer insight. And now that I think about it, I share for a
third reason. Other people HAVE gone
through like experiences and aren’t as comfortable about opening up. It’s also for them, with a hope that maybe
occasionally something strikes a chord and you don’t feel as isolated as you
normally do with your feelings and reactions.
My intention has never been nor will ever be for anyone to
feel sorry for me, to draw undue attention to myself. I am just being me and sharing it for the
entire world to embrace or reject. Your
choice and it really matters not to me as I have found it to be very
therapeutic for myself. I need to learn
to be brave. I need to learn that what I
think and feel and believe is right for me.
And with that I can respect those who don’t understand, don’t
agree. I don’t believe we were ever
meant to see eye to eye 100%. How in the
world would we ever grow in our thoughts and feelings if that were the case?
So, in order to get more to the point(s), I am realizing
that my grief for my husband has begun to resurface, and been more to the fore
than it had been since the death of my son.
I’m two years into this and gaining ground, but feeling the loss, at any
given moment, for either, can still bring me to my knees. But the sudden death of my son superseded the
mourning I was doing for my husband without me even being aware of it. I think it surfaces now because for one
thing, it needs to be acknowledged. I
don’t believe in dancing around this. I
believe the most healthy way to survive these losses is to embrace them, allow
them to embrace me and find my way back to life, a new and improved version
for the incredible relationships that were shared. I often cry on my way home from work because
he won’t be at home when I arrive. I
remember the breadth of his shoulders and how I was so reassured by his
strength, even when he was so very sick.
I remember his voice and his endearments and I yearn to be loved
again. Grief is love with no place to
go. Sigh.
If you know me well at all, you know that I can laugh and
enjoy those around me. You know that I
am optimistic by nature. And I’m proud
and excited to say that I have recently achieved some milestones that let me
know I am reawakening to a new and improved version of myself. You see, these deaths for me have to have
purpose and in my life that means a different perspective. I have the privilege of continuing to live
and in their honor and absence; I’d be remiss to not give it my best. That is exactly the thought that crosses my
mind every time I enter the gates of the National Cemetery where my son
rests. All of those stones tell a
million stories and they all deserve the best we can offer for their
sacrifice. I don’t take that lightly.
But I digress. I was
skeptical when I heard stories of widows/widowers who wanted to remarry after
having the happiest marriage, a devoted partner. How in the world could anyone replace that
partner? I’m learning they don’t. They were never meant to. If you’re fortunate enough, someone else will come to you
at a time when you have love to give, wisdom to share and an appreciation and
zest for life. Love is like lightning –
in so many ways – but we’ll just talk about the myth. It can strike the same place more than
once. The strikes hit the same place, yet never exactly the same; but it can
happen. One of the most beautiful things
I remember seeing is a tree on the campus of Culver Academies that has lived
through two lightning strikes and it bears the scars. Yet it still buds, blossoms, provides
shade, whispers in the wind, and sheds its leaves when the time is warranted
for renewal. That’s incredible. That’s a beautiful thing. I want to be that tree.
I’m not doing well in figuring out how to find someone who
even wants to be friends. There’s an
entire blog that could be written about the horrors of online dating. So many men my age want cover girl 40 somethings, or worse. I can’t compete with
that, nor do I want to. The problem with
those sites is they can’t look into my eyes, hear my tone of voice, and know I’m
so much more than I can put in a “profile” or see in my picture. I can’t tell you what I’ve had to wade
through to finally arrange a coffee date with someone I just wanted to be
friends with. It was off, but it was
okay. If anyone thinks that is going to
hurt me now, they’re sadly mistaken.
I’ve been working hard on myself personally. I’ve finally begun to drop weight. I’m exercising, eating healthily and
returning to better habits. That’s not
to find a man. That’s for my health and
for my grandchildren, my son, my daughters-in-law and my family and
friends. Mainly it's for me. Maybe one day, some lucky man
will just stumble along and be the lucky one to take advantage of the work I’ve
put in!
I suppose all this babbling just comes down to this. I’ve hit another roadblock. I’m lonely and I don’t know how to fix
it. I truly do just want to begin with a
friend. The only relationship worthwhile
begins that way in my book. But I want a
friend willing to gather me in a hug, because he’s happy to see me or willing to comfort me. I want someone
who will grab my hand as we walk to point out the beauty of a hawk’s flight in
the sky. I want someone who will kiss my
cheek as we say our goodbyes. I do miss
just being held.
When I think of changing my life, even though I find it
lonely, I wonder if there’s room for anyone permanently. Now I only cook when I like, do what I want
when I choose. I suppose if the really
right person came along, it would be worth it. That all remains to be seen. I haven’t been successful in even finding
someone who wants to have coffee, so one thing at a time! I
suppose I’m looking in the wrong places, or maybe it’s just not God’s time.
