Widowed Without A Manual

Some of us grieve longer then others. I will not be rushed out of my love, that still inhabits my heart.

Sometimes a Drawing Speaks More Then Words

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As I try and pack I am now thinking that  I quite possibly have purchased THINGS just to fill the HOLES that seemed to develop. These things have really not made much of an impact on plugging the holes at all. I still had all those dark days, and more holes were created. They are like the infinite black hole of the universe. When your in one you see no end, no way back. Your just IN THE BLACKNESS.

I think I’m making a bit of headway then I walk into the office and realize I have barely made a mark there. Then my head thicken and my ears ring and all I want to do is go to bed. Bed is where I hide.

This blog is also where I run to. It gives me this imaginary importance of doing something of purpose when in fact I really don’t know if it helps. Well I have rented a truck so I do have to find motivation. I am including some sketches that expresses my feelings much more then words seems to these days

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Photo on 2014-05-31 at 11.41


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Boxes of Memories

The day has come. 

Time to really pack and get rid of things. The urgency of my siblings having waited long enough for their inheritance has come. It is now time for me to pack and move on. 

For about two weeks now I have been sorting and packing things of importance. My books were the first and easiest things to decide in packing and bring. I have  decided that I will never ware his coat or shoes. I did however take photos of these things. I found B’s wedding shirt. I washed it and will keep it. There are certainly items of clothing that SO RINGS OF HIM so I will keep them.

I drove to the valuevillage five times! I have set a deadline for myself, by renting a truck. I keep moving into smaller spaces. ultimatly we will all be in a box or urn.  


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B Would Have Been 80 Today

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Here I am at what would have been a milestone for B. He would have been 80 years today. I have just returned to the city from a two week break, house sitting in the country.

I wake up this morning without him by my side,,,,, again.

I will be this way to the end

Without my best friend

I feel that if I mark this day that people around me will continue to turn their heads. There she is exposing her feelings again to the world and expecting all of us to join in. Could I be approaching my anger phase? I am angry that I am having to move. I do though feel that staying here is not good for me, emotionally. Here I am living in my mothers world and where I have spent the years looking after B. It’s probably good that I move for I have ver dark thoughts here within these walls. This place holds no future. It represents love and care and connection but within its walls it also carries so much sorrow.

Within these walls

Dark clouds stains the ceilings

Walls hold the rivers of tears

It took me almost the entire two weeks to feel better. One night here and I feel myself being pulled back with such force to the black shadow. This house needs my tears to survive. I can almost hear it calling me back. It has missed the long nights of my saddness. The days that remained night by keeping the blinds closed. Almost living here in secret so no one would bother me. The phone that rings while I sit across the room, counting till it stops.

The problem is not moving to another location, it’s what to bring with me.

Everyday that comes and goes I remember more and more about our life together. When your soul mate becomes ill, you are still their spouse but you put on the vest of caregiver. You become so intensely focused on their dignity, their care, their need for tenderness and understanding. You put on hold to the very back of your mind and heart, all those feelings of sadness and want of things to be as they were. But,, When they feel its time for their departure and fly into unbelievable release of earthly weights, we are left here alone. Only then do you slowly emerge as the wife again. It’s the passing of all those days that brings back everything we could not feel in front of them. It’s those feelings that awaken and bring us to the dark days.

I know that I write for my own benefit for who would want to read such sadness.

Today he would have turned 80.

Happy Birthday My Love

There is such a backdraft of emptiness without you.

 

 


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I have to pack! I have to sort out all this stuff that I have been filling the rooms with and put them all in boxes. I have to pack!

HOw do you decide what is important? How do you thin out your possessions? How do you move on???

I just spoke to my dear dear friend. She is 4 years into widowhood and she was so torn up by a show she just saw. I am into 19 months and have just found out that last birthday I did not register my car. I can see the day. It was raining and I was getting a new photo as well. But now I can’t find record of doing that at all! How can that be????????????????????

I try so hard to concentrate but hay! I just put in three containers 2012, 2013 and 2014 paperwork. Ya I know I have not done two years of incometax paperwork. I haven’t been able to. I really have tried but maybe I’m just one of those that does not deal well with being a widow.

I can’t see a future for myself. I don’t say that for sympathy i just mean I really can’t see anything out there. I can’t really think of a future. If I do its always a small house or building by the sea but how can anyone live that way.

So I continue to live because I don’t have the courage to die. Again not looking for comments  or thoughts I am just stating the obvious.


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May Two Was Nineteen Months

Yesterday was nineteen months of my widowhood. Truly I have to say that while most days end up the same, the things that go on inside really varies. Different levels of understanding. Different  avenues where I often feel like go to cross an ally way but can’t, I extend my neck so my head is exposed to anything that may happen. Anything can propel down that lane and knock it right off its body,   with the head bouncing and rolling around, eyes flash on and off like an old projector movie.

I wrap myself with the deep dark blanket of what ever this is. I know that the blanket gets thicker and warmer. 

While I sleep I now roll all over the bed. horizontal, vertical all angels. I think my subconscious self spends her nights looking for that heat that solid mass that it would roll over to till skin touched and an arm moved and held me tight and secure. I roll around but there is nothing there. The smell of his skin so lovely. He never insulted his body with chemical fragrances, his sweet essence radiated.

Every day it feels another scent brings back a large wave of memories.

At nineteen months I am feeling more and more that these pages will be my only escape. These pages may eventually become private for even the public will tire of my processing. 

This week I happened across a line portrait he did of me on a restaurant napkin and nineteen months became important again.

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