It’s been 7 years since I’ve been on my own. I’ve treated it like the heroine from Titanic. I’ve travelled, laughed, danced and loved my family and friends. All the while that center of my heart, is scrunched and furious. I’m sad. I hate being sad. Why do I miss my lovely, handsome, infuriating husband so much.?
I think it’s because I’m remembering too much. The warmth of a kiss, the look across the room, the feeling that we had each other’s backs. Even when we got into a disagreement, it was with the certainty it would work out.
I’m envious of my friends who are sheltering with their spouses and then I’m grateful that I only have to makeup my mind by myself, with some consultation with my dog and sons.
I think I need to remember but also to look forward. It’s all well and good to hear the platitude, that’s it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. It’s just I had no idea that the weight of that loss would be so heavy.
There are reminders of Karl everywhere, the wind blowing the leaves, the birds in flight, music on the radio, the fleeting glimpse of one of the grand children’s’ smile, the set of a stranger’s shoulders in the store. It’s hurting less but even as I’m writing this, my eyes are leaking. Stop. I give up.
I think I’m visiting this feeling because of the current situation. I know I can’t and won’t wallow here too long. I have no idea what the future holds but I am glad my past was so rich. Now to set my sights for the emergence from this dark attic, and into the shine and hope of new memories.