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.

31 Years Ago Today

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thirty one years ago today
our home was full of family from near and far
pots of boiling water on the stove
sisters from both sides chatting like squirrels and working
tables were being set up in the open yard
a plastic tent with violet flowers painted on it was strong from house to studio
welding tables sheathed with new sheets of bronze
reflected flowers painted on all the cement walls
morning light shone through freshly cleaned windows
kissed the purple dancing floor

the studio yard was full of our friends and family clapping
as my brother and our dog Guzik walked me down the path
to that beautiful man standing with open heart
willing to commit the rest of his life being with me
never had anyone loved me with such intensity and without reservations
we exchanged silver sculpted Garner bracelets

‘trust my love but not blindly’ he inscribed on a drawing of us
mama made a wonky fat cake that was spectacular
with a big piece of cake in my hand
I walked among to all our guests
that happily ate from my hand

the bronze tables were full of pit roasted pig
bowls of boiled potatoes and bowls of greens
the wine especially made from my brother in law
was labeled with our photo
only one bottle remained which my mom saved for us

everyone ate and drank and danced into the night
but it was just the two of us in the end
toasting each other in the jacuzzi

It was a day to celebrate a union of two heart
only weeks after when photos started coming in
did we notice that I forgot to order table clothes
that they were covered with butchers paper
No One Cared!
there was no centre pieces as prizes
there was no matching chair covers
No One really cares of that stuff
its your love that decorates

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Fear Tries To Take Me Again

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tension two

You never know what your body is going through till one day it stops you in your tracks so you take notice. This past year I have cocooned in a basement flat while the world of snow and sun turned. I covered myself with feathers so high that not a breath could be witnessed.
Each day my breath got smaller and smaller till a major panic attack struck.
I thought I was having a heart attack.
The ropes tightly drying around my torso till there was no room for any air in my lungs. Once I recodnized the shock left and I started thinking about how great it was going to be to be reunited with B.
Was this the time?
Had my sorrow finally found the exit door?
Would I now be looking for the great white light to walk through?
The anticipation of seeing him in the distant.
His wonderful distinctive silhouette waiting for me.

No…………. Was not to be
Then what do you have in store for me I ask!
What could I possible contribute to this very angry world
Have I not suffered enough?
Can I not now be re united?
My belief of the power of the universe and its purpose comes to my mind.
I submit to it.
Trying to be grateful and open to the next step in my lessons.
The old art of following your instinct is a difficult ability to ignite.
Once you do its a long process of trial and error.
Like fine tuning an art form or magic trick.
Understanding that even though we have fate to guide us we still have personal prerogative in our destinations.
This is where my fear comes in.
I am quite familiar with my fears they have been with me since I was a child.
I remember being so terribly shy that I would detour my walk home by blocks if I saw someone I knew.
At times I would slow down and present to tie my laces or I found a penny or pick leaves anything but walk my regular pace.
Why you may ask?
Well because I did not know how to walk past a person.
What do I say?
What if our walking ends up at the same pace?
What will I continue to say?
Oh the emotional pain of a young child not knowing how to relate to others.
When I got a bit older I found that if I made of fool of myself that people would laugh and the pressure left sooooo I continued to be a jokester.
The losers [if I dare say that word] were always much more accepting then the bright students so I neglected my studies and was instantly accepted. I started to smoke cigarettes and that made me even more accepted. I even got the grade 8 bad boy to notice me and we became an item, kissing hugging daily at the doors of the anglican church next to the catholic school that I went.
I have lead my life based on my fear. Still the universe did protect me in many ways. Always putting things in front of me that would help guid me back.
The Universe brought me back to my husband and the second time I followed my gut even though I was scared.
I trusted it and I trusted B.
A BIT OF HISTORY:
One day I was sitting on the floor of my attic flat looking through the art schools fall classes.
Turning the pages I spot a name.
Bells went off my instinct was flashing lights and music!
Needless to say I took what ever class this person taught. After a world wing affair we part amicably.
Two years fast forward and a friend insists I go out for a beer with her.
Reluctantly I agree.
On our way to the car around the corner I hear a motorcycle being started and I look to this mass of leather and helmet but I am drawn to a salt and pepper beard.
Being drawn in to the point where I lean over and look straight into the visor.
This is potentially a stranger on a motorcycle and my friend say ‘What are you doing?’
I hear my name being said and the voice is unmistakeable.
I say his name.
His visor comes up and my friend says
“Oh god!,,,, call me tomorrow!
Her voice laughing as she enters her car and I throw my leg over the back seat of the motorcycle with all my yards and yards of pleated cotton skit.
I put my arms around that chest and I felt like I had found my home.
It was the fall and by spring I moved in with him and five years later we were married.

Now I am again sitting here in fear but following my gut and trusting it that this trip to Fogo Island will somehow bring me peace.
I apologize for the length today and must really get myself some breakfast.
Follow you gut, your instinct and don’t forget to continue writing no matter what it is.

 

 

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