I’m going to be without the internet for a couple of weeks, so don’t worry if I don’t post for a while.
I’d always planned to follow the conventional wisdom and not move for at least a year after my life mate died, but here I am, two months into my grief, and I am moving — not by choice, but circumstance. Right now I’m rattling around in an empty house, filling it with tears. Though I’m mostly moved and packed and the house cleaned, I am not ready to go — it is way too soon. But even if I could stay, it wouldn’t change anything. My mate would still be dead. And I’d still be homeless — he was my home, not this house.
Despite my declaration (after having to throw away so much stuff these past weeks) that I would never buy anything again (except electronics) I did buy a new camera (a cheap little thing, but it works, and besides, a digital camera is electronic, right?). I took pictures of this place today: our cars parked next to each other, the bushes we planted that enclose the house and give it privacy, the hybrid bush/tree I borrowed for my soon to be published novel Light Bringer (which will always be tinged with sadness for me since he never got to read it). I don’t know if I will ever be able to look at the photos without weeping, but at least I have them if I want to take a peek.
From what I’ve heard about the loss of a mate, as hard as the first months are, the second year of grieving sometimes is even worse. I cannot imagine that. But then, I never could have imagined the pain I am feeling now. I don’t know why, but occasionally the loss hits me anew, as if it just happened. Which is what I am feeling today. And, apparently, that too is normal. It still happens to some people even a decade later.
Our life together — his and mine — is receding, even in memory, as if it’s a fantasy, a dream, a mirage. When he was alive, the past always seemed present. Now it seems so very past (passed?). That’s one more loss to add to so many.
I feel tempest-tossed. As if I am unmoored. Swept away on an emotional storm. Besides all the other emotions that beset me, I find I panic easily. I took up the mat on the floor of the driver’s side of my car where my feet rest (I was cleaning the car, getting it ready for the trip), and I discovered . . . rusted-out holes. Yikes. I’m about to go on a long trip with holes in my car? Panic! There is no such thing as ER for car bodies as I discovered after a spate of phone calls, so when I calmed down, I patched the floorboard using aluminum foil, metal tape (way cool stuff!), oven liners, and cardboard. Should last as long as my car.
I’m sure I will be okay, eventually. Just not yet.
May 31, 2010 at 8:08 pm
May 31, 2010 at 8:25 pm
June 1, 2010 at 9:49 am
I’m glad you thought to take pictures before leaving. I’m sure it was painful, but a time will come when the memories will need augmenting and the pictures will be precious.
Take care. We’ll be waiting to hear from you when you’re settled again.
October 1, 2021 at 4:57 am
You are life right now.
Sincerely, a one-month bereaved lady
October 1, 2021 at 7:45 am
I am so sorry. It’s a hard journey you are on.