Our Corona~

Life will never be the same again, in most ways.
Shit around the world, and in our country, is changing so fast that my head is spinning around like Linda Blair’s in the freakiest movie to ever happen to our world, back in the 70’s.
photo-1572113394679-f98d243df693-200x300The Exorcist.
Facebook is flooded daily with everything about our new favorite virus.
Fortunately, it’s also flooded with information about free classes, concerts, workouts, counseling one on one, yoga breathing and relaxation, singalongs…pretty much whatever your quarantined heart might desire.
Financially, shit is already hitting the fan for so many individuals and families.
There’s a great deal of really, really, good, dark, humor available too. Recently, memes are spot on in every topic.
People post on fb about how stressed they are, how sad they are, how emotional this is for them, how it feels being in isolation, how tough it is going to the store to shop.
And they’re getting supportive and encouraging responses from everyone around them…family, friends, strangers…people near and far.
All of which is lovely and wonderful and beautiful and necessary and good and how great it is, right?
And I’m over here thinking, not in a bitter way but in a wry, sardonic manner, tinged with cynicism, though I try to keep that at bay, that hey, world, guess what?
Welcome to the head spinning shock, disbelief, financial hurricane, numbness while feeling all the feels, terror, anxiety, fear, disorientation, discombobulation, loneliness, and generalized 100% uncertainty about the future, and every other emotion that we who are widowed experienced upon the death of our person and have lived in whatever time since their death.
Many, if not most of us, without support and with broken and shredded hearts.
My sense of humor is seeing me through all of this.
Life, right?
I want to start up a new business for all the non-widowed folks in the world now who find all of this so overwhelming.
Understandably overwhelmed.
Who wouldn’t be?
A business where I’d consult and help them understand what the hell is going on with them emotionally in these days of coronavirus.
I’d be kind of sardonic about it all with them.
These emotions we’re experiencing in these last couple weeks, and for the foreseeable future are all normal in every way.
Of course, the virus will end at some point.
Our loved one, our person will never return, at any point.
There’s no date stamp for that.
I guess I just want to say to the world, as we all go through this, that I hope you all do continue reaching out to one another. Slowing down. Paying attention. Speaking from your heart to your loved ones. All of this.
Because, really, world?
Welcome to the fuck of widowhood.
Grief is suddenly mainstream, peeps, and ain’t that a bitch?

Love in the Time of…This~

I’m not going to write about what’s going on all around the world right now.
We’re all getting enough of it on a 24 hour basis.
I will, instead, write about Love.
I’m going to write about the power of Love in uncertain times. Continue reading

Tracing Time~

My fingers glance gently over the clocks in the hall,
Measuring time that carries no meaning.
My slippered feet wander past rooms of memory.
That are so far in the past, yet ever present but indistinct.
Are my memories real? Are they true?
Or an imagined figment of an imagination grasping at what once was and is no longer?
The doors of these rooms along that long hallway are open,
But I can’t pass into them…
So I simply pause at each one, allowing my eyes to study each piece of furniture, each window hanging, each picture on the wall.
That bed with its’ brilliant white coverlet, scarlet pillows fluffed…
Where our passion came alive and where we found blissful sleep,
Your arm curved over my hip as we nestled together.
The framed pictures of we two, 20841903_10159244759430441_4566915563922987957_n-300x225
Holding hands, smiling at each other, kissing, feeling loved.
The billowy curtains framing our backyard where we sat in the swing, admiring our colorful gardens and sweetly scented grass…
Our kids’ bedrooms, posters on walls, dirty clothes in a pile on the floor, mixed with clean clothes, no matter how often we admonished them.
A living room colored in pops of green and raspberry and cream…soothing to our souls as we’d sit together in the evening,
Me with a book and you on the computer.
A dining room that saw so many meals on so many evenings, over so many years, sharing our days, sharing our philosophies, telling stories of exploits and hard won wisdom with the kids.
I drift past those doors in my mind,
In my heart,
Hearing the muted tones of bygone days,
And I wonder how life feels so full, and then so empty, and both full and empty at the same time…
Memories of yesterday and a life today, though it is without you.
I’m here and yet, in so many ways, not here at all,
No matter the efforts I make each day, each moment, each month and each year.
And I think that maybe, it’s okay to be here, and there, too, photo-1541694321475-c3078053d72d-400x267
As I wander those halls of memories,
My fingers gently trailing over the clocks,
Tracing Time~

I Do. Over and Over Again~

I do.

Again, and over and over.

Even knowing that you would someday leave me.

Not of your own will, but because cancer is an evil and twisted demon that seeps into the pores of a healthy person’s body and wreaks havoc within.

You left, not of your own free will.

And I, also not of my own will, stayed.

In the first years that followed, as I stayed, not of my own will, I tried desperately to remember you and I.

You, and who you were with me,

And I, and who I was with you.

I forgot how to move my feet as they moved with yours in a slow dance around the room.

I forgot how we moved together in our last dance, there at the side of that long and Picture1distant road in Death Valley, as the canyons glowed gold and music wafted from our car.

That I could no longer remember horrified me differently, but in the same way, as your death.

I remembered again, though, somewhere in my 4th year.

I remembered how to stand with you, as if your body were pressed against mine,

And raise my left hand to your broad shoulder…

Curl my fingers over your hand,

And dance…

Clint Black…When I Said I Do

Chicago…You’re the Inspiration

These two.

Over and over again.

This night, as I remember what would be 30 years marriage…

Blended family, military life that took you away from me so often, scratching our pennies together, sitting on our swing in the back yard admiring our colorful gardens, retirement, traveling together in our last 4 years, that strong hand of yours on my leg, my hand on your arm as we sat a foot across from one another and explored and adventured…

This night, as I remember saying I do to my life with you, as you slipped a simple silver band on my finger… 24174380_1518274098227519_8389293166807736662_n-226x300

You and I are dancing again, my feet moving in tandem with yours.

You are my heart, always.

We are dancing in the dark and starlit skies of the Universe.

Always~

Once Upon a Time~

All good love stories begin with Once upon a time.  Once upon a time a man and a woman met and fell in love, created a life together….and, it pretty much ended there. We don’t hear much of the fullness … Continue reading

Yes…He Would~

Quite early on in this widowed life, as I went out on the road and realized that I didn’t recognize myself or my life in any way since the night of April 21…
I remember thinking to myself…though it was more in the way of torturing myself…with the thought…
What if Chuck were to come back to life?
Would he recognize me?
How could he possibly recognize me when I no longer had any sense of who I was or what I looked like and everything inside of me was frozen?
The mere thought that he might not recognize me caused me immeasureable pain loaded on top of the pain of his death.
Because he might come back, right?
Reality had nothing to do with it for me.
It was like shards of glass embedded in my skin, that question.
Embedded in my skin and in my blood vessels as I stood in hundreds of campgrounds around the country, looking up at the night sky in futile frustration, asking what the ever loving FUCK happened to my life?
So I posed that question to our kids as I visited them along my Odyssey of Love.
Would dad know me if he were to return and maybe, I don’t know…see me at some campground somewhere?
Such a simple question, really.
But not simple at all, because at the root of it simmered all my doubts of who I’d become after his death.
Was I hardened? Was I bitter? Was I too shellshocked? Was I…gone?
Each one of our kids responded unequivocally….YES. Dad would know you right away. Even if he saw you from a distance.
Without doubt. Absolutely.
I’ve been widowed for over 6 years now.
I’ve been on the road, alone, for 6 years and 8 months, living in my pink trailer. Driving the roads of our country on my Odyssey of Love.
And this is what I know now, for certain, way down deep in my soul. All the way to my toes and tips of my fingers.
If I were in some campground somewhere, my pink trailer sitting right next to my pink car, my outdoor living space glamped up, a pretty pink umbrella with crystals hanging from each point, music playing…
And Chuck were somewhere nearby, with his own, much more military like, campsite, maybe talking with someone who stopped by to talk to him…
And out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a whole lot of pink…
He’d turn and look at my campsite in full…
Excuse himself to the person he was talking to…
And stride over to all this pink…
See me sitting in one of my pink chairs, on top of the pink flowered rug, with a clear crystal gazing ball propped on a lace covered table…
He’d come right up to me, with a smile on his face…a grin, really, because he’d be so intruiged…
And he’d say Hi. My name is Chuck. I couldn’t help but notice and he’d wave his hand around and I had to come over and meet the woman who created all of this. IMG_9097
I’d smile. and stand to greet him.
My heart would melt and my knees would weaken, and I’d feel the same surge I felt the first time I opened the front door of my mom’s house, way back in 1988, and saw this handsome man standing there, dressed in BDUs, with that same smile on his moustached face, looking right into me.And our Love story would start all over again…

Sweet Sighs, and Crushed Heart~

I thought of you last night,

One night among the thousands of nights that have passed since your hand last grasped mine,

As we lay next to each other in the dark.

I thought of your breath,

Of your arms braced,

As you raised yourself above me,

The passion in your eyes

A mere reflection of mine.

My dearest, my beloved, my knight, my hero, my lover, my husband,

I thought of you last night,

As I turned my body to face where you would be,

In another lifetime and if life were fair.

I turned to face you,

And my eyes lit not upon you,

But on a rectangular box covered in pictures of you when you were here,

and a triangle shape of red and white stripes and white stars. flag

My hand reached out to caress what is left of your physical form,

Fingers curled around those stripes and stars,

And I remembered your strong body raised over mine…

Your eyes…your breath…

Passion, and Love…

So much Love…