Where do I belong? My home was with my husband; we spent our last 4 years on the road, with no sticks and bricks to call home. My heart was with him; it is still with him. There is no place to call home. Yes, our kids offer space to me but those spaces aren’t mine. Their lives, their families, are growing, and I’m so glad for that and it’s right and good. And it isn’t my life, if you know what I mean (and I know you do).
Nor do I have a fucking clue where my life is going. None of us do, really, if we’re being honest with ourselves. For me, I guess, Chuck’s death showed me the absolute madness of planning life at all. I knew it anyways, as we all do, and we all know the quote of life is what happens when we’re making other plans. Chuck was a long-range planner by training and he’d have a huge struggle with how I’ve lived life after his death, how I’m living it now. No plans, just wandering. But then there’s this quote in response Not all who wander are lost.
Being lost implies that we have a destination in mind and I don’t have a destination, so I don’t consider myself lost. I use the word dislocated instead. Discombobulated. Disoriented. It’s a curiosity to me, grief. Death happens, people grieve, time passes and life goes on, all good and appropriate and it’s been so since the first people walked the earth. It doesn’t seem, however, that there is any real comprehension of the confusion that comes along with the grieving process, that disorientation. Even with the deaths of my mom and brother years back, I didn’t have the confusion that I have now in my life since Chuck’s death. I read a quote today from a woman named Heather, also widowed, who wrote The death of a spouse is a total dis-equilibrium of the soul. So, so true, that description. My brain runs non-stop and my emotions run deep; a never-ending clusterfuck. What is my life now? How do I find meaning in it? Where do I go from here?
Man has asked these question since the dawn of time, has sought answers to these dark nights of the soul. Where do I belong? What does it all mean? Where do we go after our worlds burn down around us? Questions that are asked not out of a sense of self-pity but out of a genuine sense of dislocation.
I don’t see my future; I’m really not interested in my future because it means a future without Chuck and there is such a massive amount of pain involved in that knowing-ness. I hear it from so many, I read it from so many and I know it’s individual to each person but what I hear from almost every widow, what I’ve heard from professionals, is that this widowhood, adjusting to it, figuring it out, can take years. Not that that comes as any big fucking shock to me. I have no sense of myself as a woman, no awareness of my body, no clue about, well, anything any longer. Which is disconcerting, having had such a strong sense of self for so many years.
Where from here? I don’t know. My plan is to leave Connecticut on Monday but that’s pretty much as far as I’ve gotten. This life I have to create without Chuck is on me and I can’t use my kids or anyone else as a default position. Vague ideas but no plans. Really, honestly, all I know is that I am standing right here at this moment and it can all change 5 minutes from now so that even my Monday plans don’t happen.
My brain is officially fried. My heart…it just hurts. My soul spends most of its’ time wondering and I don’t even know what its’ wondering about-just that it wonders.