Love, Intimacy and Desire

I've been reading an absolutely lovely book by a female Christian writer widowed after 46 years.  She talks of the great love she and her husband shared.  I too have spoken of the depth of love John and I had, how good (and normal) our marriage was.

She mentions many of the emotions and feelings I myself have experienced.  But one thing is noticeably missing.  It is missing in most dialogues about widowhood.  Perhaps because for many of us it is such a powerfully intimate subject, and for some even taboo.  

Promises I'm Making for June

June is always a busy month.  The kids are newly home for the summer, there are umpteen birthdays starting the last week of May (8 total), and somehow a new season always spurs many new projects.  It will be hard to hold myself to promises but I plan to keep as many as I possibly can.  And if you want to check how I did in May, then look right here at the updates. 

1.  I promise to find something nice and cool and comfortable to wear around the house.  I've been wearing jeans and t-shirts which is fine for the cooler days of spring but now that we're in the hotter days?  Nope!  I have some 'capris' I bought last summer that fit badly then and don't fit any better now.  They were actually made for someone about 4 feet 5 inches not 5 feet 3 inches.  And the size tag is a straight up liar.  I crammed into them last year but this year, I'm not planning to be that uncomfortable.

Identity Crisis

 

I've shared before that when Katie left home at 18, I found myself in a long spell of grief.  It was completely unexpected.  I'd been parenting for over 30 years, and I thought I was more than ready to lose that role of full-time parent.  I started out excited about the time ahead.  And then I was hit by the runaway car called grief which nearly debilitated me for two full years.  

I didn't know what to do with myself!  All those plans I'd made for the day when I would not be on call 24/7 mattered no longer.  I lost my footing.  It was totally unexpected and it took me by surprise.

Six weeks into losing John, I can tell you that I find myself in a similar place now.  

Making Changes 1% At A Time

 

I floated through the last of March and the first part of April as though I were lost in a fog and I was.  I realized in mid-April I needed to stop and just 'be' so to speak, whatever form 'being' took at the time.  Tears, making relational decisions, attempting social occasions and church solo, dealing with paperwork and appointments, and finally determining what I wanted beyond John's NOT being gone, which is not an option I can choose.

I realized I could re-establish some routines in my life and ground myself somewhat better.  I started with the Friday and Monday house blessings, those two days of the week when my house is most prone to be untidy and need real attention.  I like going into the weekend with it clean and neat and I like coming out of the weekend well rested and ready to set things to rights for the week ahead.  

Wisdoms I Need

 

Grief work always causes us to revisit underlying grief.  ~ Liz (in the comments of this post)

She is so right!  I recognized the truth of it as soon as I read that statement.  I had wondered why I kept dwelling on so many hurts, long past and more recent, things I'd normally have thought little about.  But even the slightest grief has been like a new pang in my soul.  I needed that "Ah ha!" moment she gave me when she chose to share that.

Grief is a magnet that will pick up all the little pieces of grief.  And it has made it more difficult for me to discern exactly what I'm grieving at times.

Sorrow upon Sorrow

 

The thing I've found about grief is that it has a way of dredging up all the past griefs, ones I'd thought were long dealt with and forgotten.  

The need of a girl for her mother...

The desire to be an aunt...

Today, as I was leaving church, a young woman came and stopped directly in front of me.   I stood looking at her, sure I knew her, sure she was family, but not quite recognizing her.  I said "Hi..." a little hesitantly.  Something about her face kept nagging at me that she was someone I knew well.  It was my niece.  We hugged long and deep.  She is 30 years old.   I have had only the briefest moments of contact with her.

Promises for May

 

1.  Life is too short to eat food that isn't good.   I don't mean spoiled food, but food that is lacking in taste or texture, or a recipe that didn't turn out and feels like punishment when I force myself to eat it. or the leftovers of it which haven't improved.  I did that too often in April and I've made up my mind that if I'm going to consume 'x' number of calories each day, then the food I eat shall (a) taste good (b) be something I genuinely enjoy (c) and look forward to eating.  

I've had ill luck of late with things I crammed into the freezer before John died.  WHY did I save those things thinking they'd taste better later?  

Closed Doors

 

John has been gone a month at the time I'm writing this.  One month ago today, I kissed his forehead and walked out of the room leaving his physical body, my dearest friend and great love, behind.  I realize now that I was in a state of shock.  Operating normally enough on the surface but reeling with sorrow underneath.  Holding myself together for the sake of my children, but bereft.  Probably not hiding it very well though I supposed at the time that I was.

But two things happened that I have not shared.  Two other griefs, which are wrapped up in losing my beloved.  The Sunday morning of his last day, when I'd been told he'd passed away, before I went in to see him and he miraculously regained consciousness, one of the first people I called was my brother.   I told him John had died. "Well Terri, it's going to happen to all of us at some point.  I'm sorry."    I asked him to please let Mama know.  

Coffee Chat: How I'm Really Doing

 

Dear Friends, 

I'm going to change the pattern of posting on you all for a little bit.  I feel the need to not be a writer but to be open and honest about how I feel just now.

No great revelation to any of you, I'm sure, that I'm grieving.  

Grief for me might look different than it looks for someone else.  I am not wailing and gnashing my teeth.  I do cry at times.  Little things, little tears.  And one stormy evening of wrestling with the real pain of grief and loss and longing to turn back time.  Those 34 years of John were far too short!  They went too quickly.  I wanted more.  I thought we'd have more.

Architect of My Soul

 

This evening on the way home from a day of appointment, errands, and a family visit, I finally put in the CD of John's music that he'd recorded and put in our safety deposit box.  I found myself singing along, smiling, raising a hand in worship at times, and thinking deeply about what a journey a life can be.  What we are truly building as we go is a Soul, that mysterious inner being that is so connected to heart and mind.  With the building of our Soul, we become our own three-in-one self.    

Hard Things

Fact of Life:  When you lose your husband, the world expects you to step up and adult even if you don't want to, don't feel like it, are anxious about it, or dread it because it's dang hard stuff you must do.

And it sucks.

But you get up each day, and you do it anyway, because no one else can do it for you.  Oh, they can...But how selfish to expect anyone else to stop their lives to do it for me simply because I feel lazy or low, or fearful, or whatever else emotion I might cough up.   I mean, they all have things they must deal with and attend to and face their own loss at the same time...surely, I can do just as much.