No Life in My Life

I am heading toward the two-and-a-half-year anniversary of the death of my life mate/soul mate/best friend. The breath-stealing pain that I endured for many months has dissipated, so much so that I have a hard time believing I ever went through such agony. The all-encompassing loneliness that followed the pain has also dissipated, and I am comfortable with the idea of growing old alone (or if not comfortable, at least tolerant of the possibility).

I’ve even gotten over the horrendous feeling of always waiting. Not waiting for something. Simply waiting. Nothing has changed, of course, except my attitude. I am training myself to be in the present, to be me, to believe that nothing is important but what is right here, right now. It’s working — I am more at peace than I have been in a long time.

But . . . there is no life in my life, no spring in my step, no spark in my spirit.

I’m not a sentimental person. I seldom kept keepsakes and I never chronicled my life with photos, but now I do both to prove to myself that yes, I am alive, and yes, I am doing something with my years. It feels as if I have done nothing but stagnate the past two years, and yet I have that scrapbook of paper memories showing me the truth:

Since October of 2010, when I started keeping the scrapbook, I have spent time on both USA coasts, hiked in the desert and on sandy beaches, climbed lighthouses and rocky knolls, ridden an amphibious vehicle and the world’s largest traveling Ferris wheel, fed ducks and sea gulls, walked along rivers and around lakes, visited ghost towns and overgrown cities, trekked the length of four piers on four different beaches, gone to art exhibits and historical museums, attended fairs and festivals, learned to shoot guns and amazing photographs. I’ve traveled alone and with friends on planes, trains, and automobiles. And I have tasted hundreds of different foods, some delicious, some that can barely be considered edible.

So why do I feel as if there is no life in my life? Do I need to be in love to sparkle with vitality? I hope not. I hate the thought that my well-being rests in someone else’s hands. The truth is probably more prosaic — although I am not actively mourning, I am still grieving, still disconnected from the world. After the death of the one person who connects you to the world, it takes years to find a different way of connecting. All of these experiences I have mentioned are ways to keep me busy while the real work of reconnecting to the world is going on deep inside.

Besides, the experiences were good ones.


8 Responses to “No Life in My Life”

  1. Deborah Owen Says:

    As always, your post is touching and I’m happy that you’ve made those steps forward. There will be more to come. Stay strong. Stay connected to life.

  2. Liz Houlton Schofield Says:

    Hello, your writing is alive. It may be alive with the weight of your grief, as well as the blunted edge of the pain, but it’s very much alive. The scrapbook chronicles in a broad sweep, the minutiae of coping, existing. Vitality will return, it’s taking a vacation, whilst you find balance again in your life. Keep going, and Thank You for sharing your journey so eloquently with the rest of us.

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      Thank you for your kind and supportive words. It’s good to know that my writing speaks to peole even though my life seems so muted.

      • Liz Houlton Schofield Says:

        I like to think of it like this…if it doesn’t sound too trite, Pat, If your lover, friend and soul mate hadn’t mattered, you wouldn’t be hurting. It is a measure of the depth and breadth of your love that it is taking a long time for you to journey back to balance, and eventually, to soar again! Enjoy the sunshine.

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      Liz, It’s not trite — it’s true. He mattered immensely. I’ll always miss him, but I refuse to be one of those women who mourn for the rest of their lives. It’s just hard. I’ll be glad when I get rebalanced.

  3. Emma McCoy Says:

    While it would be nice to know there would be an end to the grieving process and when, unfortunately, no one can set a time limit on it. It happens at its own pace. Keep up those adventures and eventually you will feel alive again.

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