Unfinished Business

I have been struggling off and on with the unfinished business. Dave and I had a strained relationship. There are many questions that I would like answered. Should I go to an séance? A medium? I’ve never believed in these activities – but I’d like some answers and I have a few things to say as well. I have several apologies; explanations and I’d like to say Thank you. I really wish that we had had more time – time to work through our difficulties, time to resolve some issues, time to grow and become a stable, strong couple together. We loved each other greatly, but we were a bit of a mismatch. He was still a single man at the age of 49 when I met him, well ingrained in the world of dating and meeting other singles. I was fresh out of 25 years of marriage and raising a family. He was a flirty extrovert, I am a reserved introvert. He had no relationship experience; I had a great depth of experience with one relationship. We were opposites in so many ways but that was truly part of the attraction. I wanted more liveliness and socializing in my life and he wanted more stability and a long lasting relationship.
We were both newbies to our situation. The attraction to each other was palpable. The love that developed quickly was consuming. We respected and admired each other, we had fun together, we were good together, but there were issues that held us back from true commitment. I wish that we could have resolved them before Dave died. It doesn’t feel good that he died and I am left with this ache of how it could have been, how we didn’t get to resolve and work through our shit.
Sigh.

If Only

If only

The space/time continuum
was
A space/place continuum
Then
I'd be there and
You'd be here
and
We'd be
where we are

If only. . . .

One Foot In Front of the Other

I have appreciated the comments I have received from others. It is nice to know that others are connecting with my thoughts and experiences. A few have commented on the fact that I have been widowed twice and that they don’t think that they could do it again.
I would have said the same thing 5 years ago. And I don’t wish a widow repeat on anybody, but we humans are amazingly resilient. I can say this now, 5 months into my second husband’s death. 2 months ago, heck, 1 month ago, I was a shattered person, unable to do the simplest of life’s day-to-day activities. I just put one foot in front of the other, it was a great accomplishment to do the simplest of things – like getting out of bed, eating, showering. It isn’t easy. I think that I am more aware of my grief and my grief process this time. I sometimes think: oh, I remember this – this pain, this depression, this none stop crying, the constant stream of memories, the regrets, the deep, deep sorrow, and the inability to function. But the early years (yes, years) of my first loss are a blur, just as these years will be too, except that now I am keeping this blog as well as a personal journal of memories and photos. I am honouring this process more this time – I am doing less and being more. I am remembering and missing 2 wonderful men. Sometimes it is overwhelming to realize that I have been with two beautiful men who were so special and whom I loved so much and they both have been lost to me without my desire to do so. Widowhood is not like divorce, it is forced upon us, it is so, so final. I will have no more conversations or sightings. I will never hear their voices or see their faces again.
It just isn’t fair is it? But not long after my first love died, I did learn that love will return, that you can love another man just as intensely but so, so differently and that we have an amazing capacity to love. I have learned that “stuff” is not important, but that human connection is what is important and that people are what make this life worthwhile. I have learned who my true friends and family are and how important they are to me. I have learned to not sweat the small stuff and to be patient with others and myself. I have learned to honour my thoughts and feelings, to be authentic and present and call people on their bullshit in a matter of fact yet tactful manner. But I am still in so much pain and have a long ways to go before I will feel whole again. And I guess because I have done this before, I know that it is possible.

Lingerie

Well, not long after Dave died, (there’s a word I couldn’t use at first, instead I used the word, passing), his family wanted me out of his house, so I tearfully packed up my stuff and took it home to where my son, his girlfriend and their beautiful daughter were.
At home, I unpacked my boxes and bags of stuff (why is there always so much of it?) I began to unpack the box of clothing from the dresser. And there was the lingerie I would wear for Dave. It stopped me dead in my tracks. What should I do with it now? Should I unpack it? Should I throw it away? Should I bury it with his ashes? LOL
I find it amazing how many little things like this stop me dead in my tracks, bringing a flash of gut wrenching pain. Like certain songs on the radio, certain places I drive by, certain pictures, the sight of his asthma meds, a certain CD. My heart stops for a minute. I am suddenly frozen, finding it hard to breath and feeling pain. Often the tears begin. Sometimes decisions need to be made. Sometimes memories flood in. Sometimes sadness descends.
So, the lingerie is in the bottom of a drawer – I couldn’t do anything with it but put it next to his T-shirts and boxers that I now keep to wear to bed. No lingerie for me. Just the comfort of his T-shirts. I miss him. I miss loving him and I miss dressing for him.

Dear Dave

I miss you so much. I just went to a Stampede Breakfast in my neighbourhood. (http://cs.calgarystampede.com/blog/) I met Barb there and then found some of my student’s and their parents to hang out with when she left. It was nice to be out and socializing. I sure missed you though. You were the social one who was so at ease in gatherings of people. You were so good at striking up conversations, engaging people and making us all laugh. You had such a great spirit. I loved being your sidekick. It was so easy for me to be along with you. It is such work for me to be social and talk to people I don’t know. Maybe I can apply a “watch and learn” attitude and apply what I saw you do all the time. However, I don’t think I was taking mental notes. What was it that you talked about with strangers, acquaintances and friends? It was so easy and natural for you.

They had helium filled balloons at the pancake breakfast and I had the desire to take one and release it up to you. It wouldn’t have made it to the stars, but it would have been a symbol, a metaphor. I would have enjoyed releasing it and watching it rise out of sight (to you).

As a left the breakfast, I could see you in my mind’s eye. You had a drink in hand and were talking away in a social setting and I missed you so much then. Being out in the world without you is so lonely, so uncomfortable. I miss you so much. I am crying as I write this.

I am not at all looking forward to life without you. I am so disappointed that we will not be together through the days, weeks, months and years. This is so hard and I really don’t want to do it. The f word is such an appropriate word right now. It totally conveys how I feel about it all. F%$#!!!!

Music to My Ears

I am just starting to listen to music again. Here in Alberta, we have an amazing radio station, CKUA Radio Network. (online at www.ckua.org) Typically, I would have the radio on all day, listening to the great music that they play. Since Dave passed, I have been unable to listen to music. It just cuts like a knife.

Music was a big part of our life together. Dave was a big supporter of live music. He volunteered for the local Folk Festival, Jazz Festival and Blues and Roots Festival for years and years. He also volunteered for the radio station I mentioned above as their Events coordinator, organizing dance parties with live music.

We went out to live music venues frequently. We went to concerts of our favourite musicians, we volunteered for festivals and CKUA radio. So, after Dave died, I found it too painful to listen to music, but I have really missed it. Have you noticed that most songs are about love and loss? Of course you have. It can just be too painful. Then there are the songs that have meaning to our relationship. They often come from a CD that we listened to together. Just the introduction of a song can grip me with pain and emptiness.

But just recently I am noticing that I can listen to the radio or a CD for a little while. I find myself really listening to the lyrics, trying to capture the message the writer was conveying. Instrumental is great. Jazz the best.

Just after Dave died, I pledged a donation of one hour of programming at our favourite radio station. On Wednesday, the announcer played one hour of music in honour of Dave. I listened for the whole hour and heard the music that was ‘our’ music as well as some picks by the announcer. It was bittersweet. I cried several times, but it was great to honour Dave in that way. It was right for us.

Last evening I watched the DVD of Neil Young’s called Heart of Gold. I really like the lyrics of this song. I send it out to Dave.

"Falling Off The Face Of The Earth"

I just want to thank you

For all of the things you've done

I'm thinking about you

I just want to send my love

I send my best to you

That's my message of love

For all the things you did

I can never thank you enough

Feel like I'm falling

Falling off the face of the earth

Feel like I'm falling

Falling off the face of the earth

I just want to tell you

You sure mean a lot to me

It may sound simple

But you are the world to me

It's such a precious thing

That time we shared together

I must apologize

For the troubled times

Feel like I'm falling

Falling off the face of the earth

Feel like I'm falling

Falling off the face of the earth

More Rain and Gloom

Widowhood is a gloomy place for me right now. The weather has been cool and rainy and the spirit is listless. So the days drag by, filled with little, or at least little that I remember. My memory is terrible right now.

I have no desire to be with people. It hurts too much. I miss him too much. I just feel his absence far too much. It’s just all TOO MUCH!!

People have generally been good. I get a some phone calls and some invitations out. I can handle the small intimate get togethers for short spurts, but can’t seem to be in large gatherings for any length of time. I have become accustomed to crying in public.

I was invited to a good friend’s “Last Waltz” party; a house cooling party, I guess. But when I saw the guest list on the evite, I had an anxiety attack – that was the end of that.

I have been very reclusive; I spend a lot of time in my bedroom. I have done a lot of good grieving work there: organizing photos of Dave and of our time together; writing letters to Dave; chronicling our time together. Also: staring at the ceiling, crying a lot, watching endless CSI episodes (thank you Spike TV for killing time for me). I creep through Facebook, read widow and widower blogs and cruise the internet. I sleep. There have been days that I haven’t left my bedroom. These are lessening as time goes by.

I must admit that the clutter is getting to me though – my mail, my laundry, both clean and dirty, my boxes of stuff from Dave’s house, my papers, magazines, dirty cups, dishes and wine glasses..…and I’m out of chocolate! I don’t eat well, but I do manage to surround myself with the best of comforts: chocolate, coffee, red wine and sudoku puzzles.

But oh, I miss Dave so much. I want to touch him - touch his face and look into his beautiful eyes, hear him laugh and talk and tell him about my days and my conversations with people. I want to tell him that I love him and that he should never leave me and that I will spend the rest of my life loving him. I want to feel his arms around me. I want help with the crossword puzzle and to disagree about what to watch on the TV and where to go for dinner. I want to go CD shopping with him and hear of all his encounters in the world. I miss him in every way possible.

I try to be positive, but I usually fail miserably. So, tonight, I raise my glass of wine and say: Here’s hoping for better days. Here’s to loving a beautiful man.

Hello

Widowsquared – why widow-squared? Well, I am 52 years old and have been widowed twice. What are the odds of that? Pretty slim I imagine.

So why not widowed twice? - If you are at all familiar with math and the difference between 2x and x squared, you know that one is much larger than the other. My grief through this second death of my second husband has not been easy – my grief has escalated exponentially. Thus squared.

Even though my second husband was in my life for only 5 years, and my first for 25, this second death has hit me hard. It’s an accumulation thing I think. I had just started to feel that I had “gotten over T.” when Dave died. I had emerged from the deep dark well of widowhood only to be thrown down there again a short time later.

It has been pretty easy for me to feel sorry for myself. What widow or widower doesn’t at some point in the process? Dave has been gone 129 days; that is 4 months, one week and 2 days. I miss him terribly. He was the light of my life.

This is a poem that was in my head upon waking one morning:

My man

My love

The light of my life

My shining light

My beacon

You led the way

You took the lead

I am lost without you.

I am lost every minute of every day. I go to sleep thinking of Dave and I wake thinking of him. Actually, my first thought when I wake is: "Shit, I’m still here." It is very hard to be the one left behind. At this point in my grief, I would rather be with him. Life has no meaning or purpose right now. Nothing is of interest nor important. The depression is palatable.

Why did I start this blog? - I am selfish, I need to express myself, I need process this through the written word. Also, I have gained so much from other widow/ers blogs, that I thought that I would jump in too.

Can I post every day? - not so sure on that one - I have no routine right now and get very little done. But I will try.