Saturday, December 27, 2014

mess

"Yer a handsome devil.  What's your name?"  So says Martin's mom in Grosse Pointe Blank

I have felt that in annoying ways and places since John died.  I feel like someone cut a string I was attached to, and my job is to gather the unraveling insanity by looking at every moment, every man, every chance that comes as an opportunity.

I know the rules.  The rules are, you don't look.  And when you turn away, there are chances.  And if you are lucky, they are good ones.

I know two people who lost their spouses.  One before me, about a year, and one around the same time as me...from where I sit, they seem to have found someone.  First Christmas together, for one.  I am ashamed to say that I did not feel gratitude or happiness for them...I felt jealous.

Before John died, when it became obvious he was dying, I tried to tell him that I was terrified as to how I would respond to the loss of him.  I recognized that I would lose my mind.  I knew it would have something to do with my desire for connection.  I didn't know how to explain it.

It didn't matter.  He died.  And there I was.  There I am.  Once upon a time, I stopped believing in love.  I didn't believe in hope and I didn't believe in my ability to find anything real.  And so I gave up...in a big way.  I decided to turn away from it all, to try and figure things out...and then there was him.

I didn't do any work on myself.  He just made it easy to make healthier choices.  He was my path to the places I didn't believe in.  He was what I needed, what I wanted, what made me whole.  He was my parachute key for a sky diver.  But it wasn't long enough.  It was enough to make a family, but not to give me myself.

So now, now...I look around and feel angry.  I feel lost.

I'm 41.  I'm a widow.  I have three little kids.  I have a deeply broken heart.  I have no compass.  I have a bizarre amalgamation of self confidence, self deprecation, courage, confusion, and desperation...





Looking for lyrics
and moments of magic
when there is no one to blame
and the giants have fallen
leaving you alone
broken
lost
with one hand inside mysticism
one hand in wrapped around needles
I'm a super star
nursing the man I love
to his dying moment
blood thinner shots
wishing there was someone
whose call I could wait for
there's nothing left to say

trying to fall awake, but my heart
still sleeps
and I cry
upon your aura...imagining images of what
should have been
what will never be
grasping at straws
not meant for drinking

I fall
and am awake
I dream
and scream inside nightmares
I crumble
and grow strong
and wear glasses
on blind eyes
knowing no direction
as the music sparkles in a star shine twinkle
and yesterday's news
lives inside a living noose
breathing softly
around my neck


1 comment:

  1. Here's a poem you might resonate with...

    Sweet Darkness

    When your eyes are tired
    the world is tired also.

    When your vision has gone
    no part of the world can find you.

    Time to go into the dark
    where the night has eyes
    to recognize its own.

    There you can be sure
    you are not beyond love.

    The dark will be your womb tonight.

    The night will give you a horizon
    further than you can see.

    You must learn one thing.
    The world was made to be free in.

    Give up all the other worlds
    except the one to which you belong.

    Sometimes it take darkness and the sweet
    confinement of your aloneness
    to learn

    Anything or anyone
    that does not bring you alive

    is too small for you.

    — David Whyte
    The House of Belonging

    And then you might try writing about what brings you alive, now. Or write more about your own sweet (note that it is sweet) darkness. What would make your unknowing more hospitable to you now? You can journal or write a poem.

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