Tag: writing

I lost my husband six years; one month and sixteen days ago and finally I think it’s time to rebuild my life. I’m still not sure what that means but I know it’s not sitting in my room, crying, eating, cleaning the house until I am exhausted and chain smoking cigarettes. I finally came to the realization that you would not be happy with the person I had succumbed to. I actually contemplated that I would grieve forever that this should be my destiny.. I’m still not sure what that means but I do know now life is much more than grief.

I was frightened because I couldn’t picture you anymore. The image that visited me was a nineteen year old young man, vibrant, handsome and fearless. I had to pick up a photograph to remember you as you had become, the small details of your face. The etches and grooves and sagging skin that came with age but also too many illnesses back to back that stole into your life like a thief without warning.

I couldn’t remember your wonderful scent. I find myself constantly opening your cologne especially Jimmy Choo your favorite , and the aroma is a reminder of a time when you were near. I kept most of your clothing, couldn’t part with those items so dear to my heart. Your favorite shirts and pants they still hang in your closet. Sometimes late at night, really in the wee hours of morning. I get up and put on one of your sweaters. I needed all these things to cushion my loss.

People would tell me with time it would be okay, after all time healed everything but that was not so. Time doesn’t change how you feel when you love someone as I have loved you. You just don’t cry as often but the pain of loving and losing follows you, it’s like a fine thread that gets caught on your pants leg. and pulls you back . You go places that you two used to go together. You listen to laughter, watch couples holding hands or just walking together and you feel a stab in your heart. And you ask if only I had just a little more time? You know all the things you would do if you had more time. You think about the silly arguments, but also the times you both cried together, yes I miss it all.

I miss it so much. I miss hearing you debate with someone and how you refused to be on the losing end. I miss eating from your plate although I know you didn’t like it , but I did it anyway. Our late night walks at the deserted beach , how we took off our shoes and let the water nip at our feet. I even enjoyed watching you sleep knowing then peace came to you then in your dreams. I miss our shopping trips to the maul. I miss you washing my back because I always had a problem stretching my arm. I miss you making me fried eggs well done and hash browns when I worked late. I never liked eggs but when you made them – well its was like having a nice dinner. Your youngest daughter tried to fix me a fried egg and I think it may have come in at a seven but never a ten. I miss laying on your chest while you read. I miss you calling me Terri because no one has ever called me Terri but you. I miss dancing for you in my bare feet.in the rain, you said it was foolish but how you bubbled over with laughter. And the gladiolas three dozen every two weeks. I remember how I complained about why so many considering I had to clip them? No one gives me gladiolas now.

And it saddens my heart that has so many cracks that I don’t think they can be mended. You always thought of me. I knew you were sick and knew how you said you were so very tired not being able to do the things you used to. What did I say to you – find something else to do. I think you knew that time was of essence. And you crammed as much as you could into our lives; taking me places, buying me gifts and telling me how beautiful I still was. All those things you said and did for me.

And the day before your funeral it was Valentines day. A delivery of flowers, three dozen yellow roses. I thought to myself roses are not appropriate however when I read the card it was from you. You said I know you love gladiolas but I think these will do. Thank you for all you have done for me. I am your greatest fan. I broke down in tears and I thought, no I was your greatest fan. Even when you were nearing your star in the sky, you thought of me.

So now I will rebuild my life without you.. I will try to make sense of what the impending future holds for me. I will do some of the things I always thought of doing but never did. I will listen to that small voice in my head – that is actually telling me to write- you can make your dream become a reality – that is your voice.

I will begin the tedious process of finding an audience for my stories; plays, screenplays – everything that was completed years ago but was never really circulated – my fear of rejection hindered my growth. Now I will do these things without fear of failure but instead only the possibility of becoming who I was always meant to be.

Six years, one month and sixteen days. No more grieving because I choose to live for both of us. I know you will be there cheering me on because you were and always will be my biggest fan.

Watch how the flowers bloom. From a tiny seed they sprout and thrive from the nutrients in the soil, sun and water. As time passes they grow into beautiful, colorful flowers that dance in the sunlight.

Flowers that are not attended to die and wither away, with their beauty disappearing into the soil as it is with a marriage that isn’t nurtured. A marriage requires love, patience, understanding, friendship and forgiveness in order to continually bloom.