Monday, November 22, 2010


How can it be?

Almost 2 years since I last touched the face I long to see?

It feels like yesterday ...

It feels like a millennium ago ...

It sometimes feels like perhaps I dreamed it all ...

Yet I can still feel him, dream of him, be so head over heels in love with him ...

still learn from him, listen to him, seek and hear his advice ...

still feel his love and strength

... yet feel completely alone

... still not really want to be here

... still feel the pain that I felt from the first second when we were wrenched apart

... yet find myself still standing most of the time, find myself shocked that I survived the end of my world?

How can it be?

How can it feel as though I have not moved forward in almost two years?

How can I let go ... of that which I love and adore and would die for?

Yet I convince myself I must, and I do ... little by little ...

but only for him. Every painful step, taken for him alone.

Only you.


  1. I have no answers for you; I have the same questions. It doesn't seem possible, yet somehow it's real. And somehow we've survived this long without them. Wish I understood it all. I'm sending you love and hugs and understanding across the miles.

  2. oh.....nodding in tears along with you.........xoxoxoxo

  3. i find i am at a loss for words. i feel the same as you, as Suddenwidow, Kim, i am sure every widow(er) who reads your words. i cannot believe the passing of time without my Dragon either. how am i breathing? why is it so dark when the sun shines? why is the moon full only once a month when it should be full in vigil all the time? why are our husbands gone?

    but we are still here and it is one minute at a time. tomorrow only exists insofar as we have to plan bills and food. but a life? i honestly do not know. existing is what i do. one minute at a time. only one minute. waiting on the next.

    i wish you all peace.

  4. The miracle Boo is that we not only are left standing after our personal earth shattering...but that eventually the sun shining is something for which we can truly be grateful. You have come such a long way my friend, I know there are days when it doesn't seem like it or that you may find it impossible to believe, but the evidence is all around you. You may take those steps forward in honor of him, for the love of him, but you do so on your own steam. And that is something, isn't it. xoxo M

  5. that we are surviving such a thing is not always (ahem, at all) a comfort to me. This just cannot be real. Craziness.
    I just finished a book in which the main character's husband was eradicated by time-agents. She knew he was missing from the time stream, but no one else did. When she tried to tell people, they treated her like she was delusional. Rather complicated to describe, but so familiar to me - I know we had a life, but all evidence of it is gone, and no one else seems to know who I'm missing.

    Still here. Still here. Who knows how or why, but apparently, still being alive is what's on the docket for the morning.

  6. This whole thing has me questioning my sanity at times. I still instinctually think he is at home, then I arrive home and feel like he never existed. I touch his urn, thinking that it will give me comfort. Sometimes it does. Most often I wonder how this pile of dust could possibly be evidence that he was here in my life.
    Maybe I should fill my emptiness with his ashes. Just swallow it whole!

  7. I am still uncomfortable with the fact that I gain comfort from your understanding and moral support, which is possible ... but at a mammoth cost. BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL GOING THROUGH THIS SAME PAIN. But it is what it is ... it does help, it does give me strength and comfort. How perverse though. Or is it just human?

    Sanity? I actually think that our minds play tricks with us to preserve our minds. Ergo ... he's not dead, he is but he's here, he never existed, I must find evidence he was here, and worse inner ramblings ...

    Michele, I know you are right, but when I wrote this it didn't feel like it :-) I guess the pain remains the same, but we learn to cope and live again, to smile again even. And as significant dates approach of course it is magnified a hundred fold, as you know xx

    Dan, if you swallowed the ashes, the kids wouldn't have to remember to add Michael's with yours ... but that helps them, not you ;-) I love you for your dark humour ... nothing else works for me these days. Dark humour and inappropriate humour xx