Month: August 2015

Yesterday was the 7th month anniversary (I need to think of a better word – anniversary implies a joyous day) of Doug’s death.  People keep telling me it will get better but that’s not what I’m finding.  Or, perhaps I should say I’m finding myself on a roller coaster ride – still.

When I returned from my trip, I felt fresh and new.  I felt like, perhaps, I had turned a corner and things would start looking up.  I had gotten to the top of the hill but, unfortunately, found myself heading back down, almost at breakneck speed.  Today, I miss him more than ever and I’m afraid I’m turning into a needy, clingy person that no one wants to be around.

People say “I’m thinking of you.” Or “I’m holding you in my heart.” Or “I’m praying for you.” And I appreciate the thoughts and prayers. I do.   They don’t help me with the loneliness, though, and I’m so tired of being the one to reach out and call people.  I want that old happy relationship that I had.  I want my friend and partner back.  I want someone to care that I get home safe.  I want someone to hang out with me just because we love being together.  I want someone to miss me.

People survive the loss of their loves.  I know they do.  I think people even become happy again.  I’m holding out hope, still.

I meant to post on July 27 but I was traveling without wifi. July 27 was the six month anniversary of my husband’s death. Like all of the anniversaries have been, it seems like forever and no time. Suspended time?

I started the next six months with an adventure, in keeping with my travel theme. I took the train to Chicago from my home city – a trip that was scheduled to take 32 hours but in reality took 35 or thereabouts. I didn’t care. Frankly, I would have stayed on the train for days more. I had a private “roomette” which became for awhile my own incubator, cooking up the next part, or at least the beginning of the next part, for me.

Doug and I took the train to New Orleans, Louisiana many years ago and it was, for the most part, disastrous. I became sick right off the bat and vomited my way across the south.  So, I could hear Doug’s voice asking me if I really wanted to chance the train this time around. Yes.  Yes, I did. The idea of 24 + hours of no responsibilities or decisions seemed heavenly to me and, indeed, turned out to be just that.

I’m usually doing something.  Working, knitting, reading – something.  This trip – I mostly looked out the window, took pictures, and thought,with a little bit of knitting thrown in.  Doug would have called it “letting my soul catch up with my body.”  Exactly what I needed.

The train discharged me at Union station in Chicago and I needed to make my way, somehow, to a suburb – Lombard, IL.  What I’ve discovered or perhaps, uncovered, is a fair amount of fear that I carry around.  I guess it’s always been there but Doug’s death uncovered it and without his filter and confidence in me, I feel the affects of fear quite a bit  more than I like.  However, I’m learning to acknowledge and ignore.  I really didn’t have a clue as to how I was going to get from point A to point B.  with the help of the train attendant, a kind red cap,and the hotel who sent a car to the train station in Lombard, I made it to my hotel and the conference without any trouble.  Some confidence returned!

Little by little an updated life is beginning to happen.

I’m now in Maine, thanks to the kindness and generosity of a friend of twenty years.  Hours have stretched by where I’ve forgotten to be sad.