Wow, ten months ago today. I remember the day perfectly, and it seems, both a lifetime and a second just past.
It's been a month of regular heart beats. Tons of work of the new simplistic form that I have been fortunate enough to find. The arrival of a brand new grand child, with the sweetest of hopeful smiles. Some grueling moments and some absolutely, delightfully surprising ones. Faces that are loving enough to comfort me and new ones who never saw the pain of the last few years, yet have the intelligence to accept a quietness or occasionally a hesitation of thought.
I realize how badly my confidence has been knocked and how poorly I have taken care of myself, both physically and that of my spirit. It is simply a splendid joy when I connect to that true and tender part of me and how lucky I feel when those times arrive. Coffee with old, wine with new, either, I am thrilled.
Flying to be with Mum while she underwent medical tests was a twist of
emotions for me. I could see my David in all of the hospital corridors. I
could see his anxiety in all the faces of those leaving or going in for
appointments. I hate hospitals. Naturally I was there in full support
of Mum, and I found myself thinking exactly the same as I did whenever
David had anything done - how I wished I could swap and be the person
there instead of seeing them go through pain. I guess loving is
believing that you would endure anything for that person. And I would.
Bitterness and anger have never shadowed me so aggressively until this time, and I work at releasing that while listening to what it can teach me. I am slowly moving forward and remain aware of how tired I still am and that I could be OK to slow down on some days. I long for a couple of days of simply nothing on a beach. And that's an alright thing to wish. Refueling is required could be written on the back of everyone.
I accept now that I'm a widow. That a part of me will never be the same. I watch how people take so much for granted, not appreciating the smallest to the widest of opportunities to connect, to smile, to say thank you, to say I love you. I understand that just because I know this, doesn't mean that others around me will get it! I don't want to waste time. I want to learn and grow. I want me back and even more. I want the forty seven years and all of my experiences to show me how to live with open arms while the fear has been noted and planted somewhere else where it's roots never spread.
After David died at 4pm, I got home and sat on my bed while Jen made some tea. I wondered exactly what I would think or feel - and suddenly a sports car roared down our little road and I heard a male voice singing opera. It's not often you hear that. I smiled. It was or I imagined it was David flying by, reminding me to race around with the top down, singing with grace and passion as loud as you want to.
He never did and so, perhaps, its down to me.