Puzzle Pieces and oh, The Stories~

So here’s the story of today and a piece of the larger puzzle that has no color yet, no shape, no certainty other than it’s based on the love that Handsome Husband and I had for each other and my search to reconnect with him as I travel this Odyssey across this land to not only carry out his final wish to me but to find him again, to find something to believe in again that will ease my pain and grief.

PinkMagic is key to this ongoing puzzle.   It sounds like a fluff name but there is a true depth and intensity to it.  I didn’t choose the name lightly-it revealed itself to me.  It cost me money I didn’t really have to paint my car and my T@b in this color but I knew it was necessary to my new life.  I knew it would draw people to me to hear the story behind it.  My hope was (is) that through telling my story, I’d find the way into my new life without my beloved husband.  Except that what I’m discovering daily is that it’s more than the telling of my story with him.  It’s the stories that others tell me, the stories of their lives, that is leading me to him again and I fully believe that this storytelling wouldn’t happen if I was driving a silver car, or a white car, or one of any other color.  I needed PinkMagic to draw people to me, and indeed it has.

This morning I stopped at a grocery store to buy food for the day before heading to Truman Annex here in Key West to work on my computer.  As I was unlocking my car I was hailed from behind and a man asked me if I was the lady from Sigsbee with the pink trailer.   He quickly introduced himself and asked my story.  I told him and yes, the liquid love spilled from my eyes unabated as I spoke.  I miss Chuck so much and the tears are frequent.   The immediate response from Martin, for that was his name, was to tell me that I would very definitely absolutely be reunited with my husband again someday and he spoke those words with total conviction.  And then told his story.  His wife and a deep brain tumor and a coma and the doctor giving the option of surgery that he’d only performed once and the patient died but what was there to lose and the surgery happened and his wife died on the table and yes, yes, yes, saw a bright light and heard what she could only describe as effervescent music and sure that could all be dismissed but she was also, in spite of her eyes being taped shut, able to describe the color of the doors inside the operating room, the head cover that her surgeon was wearing (which was very distinctive with Sweet William flowers on it) and then repeat to the surgeon upon waking the exact words he’d said when he realized she had died and decided to continue the surgery and went down deep in between the two halves of her brain and removed the tumor.   And as I heard Martin’s story, I wept harder and my heart opened and opened more and I knew he spoke the truth in a way that was sacred and I knew that Handsome Husband sent this man into my life this morning to help me know that he is not only near but still looking out for me and knows the slicing and screeching pain of my heart and soul and wanted to give me a belief in something because my heart is overwhelmed and I need to know he is somefuckingwhere and from his love for me he sent me Martin.

This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have PinkMagic.   Months ago, after this man, this wonderful, beautiful, loved, man, died, I began listening to my gut and my heart and my soul and allowing them to lead me where I need to go.   I didn’t question the new car, the paint job, the T@b, nothing.  I did all that because I knew it was the basis for the magic that was (is) going to happen in my life.

Being out on the road full-time is  hard.  It’s lonely, but so would anywhere else be because it’s a loneliness of the spirit and the soul and heart.   I told my kids after Handsome Husband died that I needed to get back out on the road because that’s where I’d find him again.  That’s where I hoped he’d find me again.   There are many uncertainties to all of this, along with the loneliness.  Supporting myself, or how to continue supporting myself, is an issue.  Most of this is daunting, learning this new life, hitching and un-hitching the T@b and maintaining it, trying to eat well and take care of practical matters, in addition to the massive emotional tsunami that is swirling and pitching me about.

And yet.

Before Handsome Husband died, I told the kids that they needed to be aware of who was crossing their path, what words were being spoken because, as I chose to describe it, magic was afoot and bigger things than we could envision were happening.  And so it is now for me.  I don’t know what this puzzle will look like when it’s done.  I don’t know the colors or the edges or anything. There are pieces scattered here and there that are beginning to form…something, and that’s all I know.

I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and my gut led me here and I will allow it to continue to lead me to the next place and time and person and circumstance.  I’m suiting up and showing up and people are coming into my life to help me with the next piece and that’s the way I operate on a daily basis.  I’m letting myself be right where I am physically and emotionally.  It doesn’t feel good, it gets dark and uncertain but the one thing I don’t have is fear.  I’m allowing this to unfold in whatever way it needs to unfold.

Storytelling.  Mine, but not only mine.  Mine with Handsome Husband.  The men and women who are sharing their stories with me as I travel.  Their essential stories that I need to hear because it is the stories themselves that will make clear the connection that is still there with my husband.  Their stories are not only reminding me but helping me dig more deeply into what I already know but have forgotten I know.  Each day, each moment, has a story in it and all I need to do is open every part of me to it and welcome it whether I like it or not because this is bigger than I am.

Love.  Magic.  An open road in front of me.  And more love.  All the love in the world that he had for me and I for him and the blooming awareness that he didn’t just disappear when he died.   In his last phone message to me he said he will always, always, be with me.  He never broke a promise to me and it’s out here, as I knew it would be, that he’s making that clear to me.

I carry your heart, D.  I carry it in my heart.

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Thank you for today~

 

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3 thoughts on “Puzzle Pieces and oh, The Stories~

  1. I, too believe that Jerry and I will be together again when I leave this world. God will tell me when I am finished here. I had to make a new life for myself. It is pretty much the same as it was when Jerry was here but it is also quite different. I have a home to take care of, a car, a dog and a cat and myself. I am still young at 62 and retired from my 35-year career in 2010. Although I miss my dear husband, life has been pretty good so far. I am healthy and interested in trying new things. I have done quite a bit of traveling with friends and on my own. I am blessed with many best friends and a small but devoted family consisting of my older sister and her daughter. It is all good.

    I am so glad that you met that man. I am sure it was your Handsome Husband’s doing. You may not see, hear or touch him now but he is there, as mine is, guiding us and helping us to find the path to a good life.

    I hope that my email helps. I don’t want to intrude on your grief but I thought my short story would be comforting. I met my husband on a blind date in college and we married two weeks after I graduated. We enjoyed almost 32 years of a great marriage and not that I am wishing my life away, I look forward to being with him again.

    Keep on going forward, my friend.

    Darlene Leech Havertown PA

    darlene451@comcast.net

    Sent from my iPad

    • Darlene,
      Never think you’re intruding, ever. I so love hearing from my followers, my friends, those I meet along the way in my travels and always appreciate feedback and perspective.

      Wishing you joy in your new year. May we all be blessed~
      alison

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