Accepting the Ampersand~

Widowhood
Submerged me into the tsunami
Of death.
Of grief.
Of a world no longer recognizable.
The world I knew…
Of Love, of security, of confidence…
Of being wrapped in strong arms
Cherished and nourished…
Annihilated.
Devasted.
A wreckage of what was.
Wandering, and wondering. Confused and disoriented. Anxiety ridden and inconsolable.
Grief shamed by good intentions gone wrong.
Don’t you want to be happy? Why are you so attached to that word…widow? You must choose joy. Make a decision.
It’s a light switch, you know.
But nobody can judge us more harshly than we judge ourselves.
So I strove to be somewhere I wasn’t. In a future my heart couldn’t imagine.
Be better. Be different. Be somewhere you aren’t. Get your shit together. Be stronger than grief. Do better.
Using energy I didn’t have to be something I couldn’t be but felt I had to be.
And then…
I discovered the ampersand.
You know the ampersand.
It’s this…
&.
The symbol for “and”.
At which point I realized
That I could be this AND that.
I could be disoriented and confused
&
I could be sure and confident.
I could be anxious and inconsolable
&
I could be strong and, yes, luminescent.
I could be uncertain
&
I could be powerful.
I could be, and am, a widow
&
A Fucking Warrior Goddess.
I am both sides of the coin of life.
This & that.
The one drives the other.
Grief drives the Love.
Widowhood drives the Warrior Goddess.
This, for me, is true alignment.
Recognizing these two parts of me.
And, having recognized
Realized
Accepted
The ampersand…
I have found a strange sort of peace~

Advertisements

When Is Becomes Was~

He was an is.

Chuck, I mean.

Until he became a was.

As in he was my husband.

I can still say it in that manner, I suppose.

Is my husband instead of was my husband,

and I would still say that

except that

He is so gone from me.

He is dead, you know, though

it rolls more easily from the tongue to say

He’s dead, you know

Speaking it as a contraction.

Is is the present (and, oh, what a present it was, both in reference to time and gift).

Was is my past,

and, oh, how the history of true love is carried in those 3 letters denoting the past

my love his love our love

and how the grief of his death is carried in those same 3 letters

He is I am we are he was I am we were

Verbs and language and usage

I don’t need big words to convey the sorrow of my heart for

what was and no longer is.