Last night it hit
the sobs came
in waves
A neighbor stopped
by with a card
and the dam broke
The card was for me
not him,
my life had changed
I loved him so much
we were both at peace
he was ready to go
Somehow I kept at bay
how sobs and cries echo
in a room when you’re alone
“Who should we call
in case of emergency”
I’ll get back with you on that.
Today I’m resting in the
now of my life. not knowing
the next step, knowing I’m
kin to all those before me
who stand alone, aware they
were left behind.
My heart aches with yours. The waves of sobs and not knowing ripple through me as well. I cherish this connection with you, and wish I had known him.
You can always call me!
Nothing more to say right now…. except I love and cherish you, Barbara.
Kathleen
Honoring you and each sacred step of your journey. And wrapping you in love.
Barbara, I’m glad you could finally cry and sob. I was worried about you! Congratulations on your first TINY step towards healing. Tears are cathartic and are a necessary part of healing. Don’t run from them but give yourself fully to the tears and the sobbing. I cried not only for Joseph but also for Leon – it was good. I’m always there for you. Love you, Mary Ellen
Barb I am so sorry for the pain and so glad for the deep love that you shared that led to the pain. I love you. Cathy
I’m sorry your Dear One is not there in his body, hanging out with you like you always have. I’m sorry you lost your Dear One. Thank you for sharing how it is with you.
Barb, thank you for giving voice to your pain and sharing your heart so openly. Your experience gives us a brave example of how to take on our own grief someday down the road. With love, Deb
‘Widowhood.’ A role that finds so many women–with our longer life spans, or by fortunes of war, or just because our mates were older–and a sisterhood that is yet another club no one wanted to join.
I watched my great-aunts and grandmothers cope (or not cope) and (because my Granny lost most of her eyesight to macular degeneration when I was in my early teens) I read the letters aloud the mail from her sisters. Aunt Dot wrote, “They tell you it gets better after the first year, but I think it is more like the first 18 months.” I pondered these words, wondering how, why, or what they meant. Was she thinking of all the anniversaries and occasions? Did she mean the renewed shocks, when she realized her husband was not there to hear her news, open the jars, fix the lock? That was 55 years ago, and I still don’t know…I just know that each of them went on to live their new lives.
I think of you many times each day, Barbara. I don’t know precisely *how* you will get through this…but I know that you will. Love you, my wise friend.
The crying is cleansing. Good for you that you are open enough to let it go out. Stay with the presence and you will have all your emotions again.