IMG_0539It’s been a while since I’ve update this blog.  There are a lot of reasons I suppose, most of which are life-changers.  My big, beautiful, lonely house has been put up for sale.  It’s too big, not to mention too expensive for one person.

I went on a vacation in June for a week and stayed with great friends and then spent the weekend with other widows who have enriched my life in many ways.  We are all the same yet we are different.  Each of us walks the same hurting walk, but we travel different roads.  It was good to see how we all have managed to survive.  Our husbands shared the same disease (appendix cancer) and while they didn’t survive it, they gave us the love and support we needed in our marriages to survive their death.  Truly, some days it is survival of the fittest, on that I think we all agreed.  I wish we had more time to discuss what to do when we back-slide into the dark hole.

What exactly does it mean to survive?  We know what it means in the world of cancer – I know personally what it means when you don’t survive.  What about the survivors of a different kind?

Normally I love positive memes and/or inspirational quotes.  But I’ve seen some lately that don’t jive in the life of a widow … the words  “… you can choose to move on.” – I did not choose to live without my husband.  Move on.  Why would I want to “move on” when the one person in my life that “got me” is no longer in this world?  Move on?  You move on from lost jobs, from illness when you’re well, you move on from a bad day in hopes that the next will be better.  You move on from a BAD relationship.  You move on from hurt feelings.  You do not move on from the death of your spouse that was your entire world.

Maybe it is really semantics – one can move forward (not move on) and I’ve been doing that.  It’s frustrating to me that words have this much affect in my life.  Scroll on is what I tell myself – don’t read things that frustrate you.  Unfortunately you can’t remove from your mind the things that you’ve read.  Someday maybe words won’t hurt.  Maybe it’s in selling my home – the one that we built together.  Maybe it’s in the notion that moving forward means leaving behind what we built.  Damn it – this sucks.   I need to find the inspiration I felt when with him in Hawaii where the above picture was taken.

Someday maybe the pain will go away.  Maybe I won’t wake up and wish I was still sleeping.  Maybe I will be happy with the memories that haunt my mind.  I am so tired.  I’m tired of fighting the tears.  It’s exhausting.  Let’s face it; I’ve never been a go-getter; more likely a “keep it together” type of gal.  Why am I finding it so difficult to do that now?

Are you married?  Are you in a committed relationship?  I am going to tell you right now that you better treasure every single day with them.  I don’t care if you are in the throes of an argument, you really need to look at your spouse and say “thank you for this” — because even days of frustration with each other mean that you are together.  The difference between life and death is just a breath away.

I’ve been in survival mode for over a year and a half … one day meets the next with zero enthusiasm.  I want to be happy.  I want to live and not just exist.  I want to wake up and say “hello world, here I come.”   Someday – maybe.

Someday – maybe.

8 thoughts on “Someday – maybe.

  1. I want to reach through the computer and give you a big hug Therese (((Hug))). At my friend’s Mom’s funeral her Dad said, “there is never enough time”. I tell myself this every day. Thank you for sharing your grief to help others not take the small things for granted.

    As for selling your house, that is a huge deal. Sending lots of good juju your way for the sale to go easily and quickly so you are not in selling limbo.

    Xoxo
    Renee B.

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  2. Bawling. Once again. Very true about “just moving on”, and waking up wishing I was still asleep. Wasn’t my spouse, but my mom. But she’s the only constant I knew my whole entire life. I didn’t choose her like a spouse though. So I’d imagine it’s different. Miss and love you Therese. :-/

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  3. It sounds to me like you are in limbo or what I can imagine limbo would be like. Feeling like almost nothing feels real. Maybe we don’t want to move on or leave the comfort of the home we have known and loved maybe being “static” is just what we want for a while to catch our breath. To reach down and find a place to start again. Why would we want to leave a place of love and comfort – whether it is a place or a protected and fun partner we have had for so long and that so much of that life was filled with wonder and joy and laughter not only shared, but appreciated too. Do we have to reach a point of deep sorrow where our emotions no longer even work to help us out of the doldrums? I wish I knew the answer but I can’t help feeling that it will come to you in an unexpected way and you will recognize it and welcome it with unbounded joy. I have heard so many women; well, just a few of my acquaintances, that lost their spouse or a treasured family member that they didn’t think they could get over losing. But along comes a certain someone who you may have known or is totally new to your acquaintance and they “get” you and you “get” them and before long you are feeling joy once again. I sure hope my “gut” feeling is correct….maybe it is a message from God through me to you. We will never leave you or forsake you. That’s in the bible somewhere maybe Hebrews? I guess I need to read that book a lot more than I do. I wish you love, I wish you faith, I wish you peace that passeth all understanding. For real! Your loving Aunt, Sandy

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  4. Therese, God is walking with you through this grief. Tough decisions have to be made and you’re doing it with grace if not happiness. Be gentle with yourself.

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  5. You are living Therese. You are on a journey. Just keep your faith…..God is guiding you through…..listen to Him and your heart. Many of us are traveling with you and draw much from your strength.

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  6. Hello My Beautiful Friend…. ahhhhhh, I feel good for you for getting this out. For the raw honesty that I could feel in every letter of every word. I feel your words. I feel your pain. I wish I could take it away and you wouldn’t feel what you do, but I cannot. I can only love you from afar and pray for you beautiful Therese. I can only pray that you’ll continue to let those tears flood your face, that you’ll continue to get those words out so that your heart has room to breath. That you can breath. The love story of Therese and Keith is one of my all time favorites. Your smiles are infectious. The way you looked at each other that short 1-2 hours we had together will forever live in my head and heart… you are love, love, love, love. And I’m so glad you have that to hold on to when the days are so very, very dark. I’m happy to know that he is there watching over you and that he will pick you up to help you MOVE FORWARD. I get the inability to “Move On”. I too have read a lot of that lately and it doesn’t jive with me, not one bit. You keep moving forward and on those days when the engine stalls and you need to stay put, I’m just a phone call or a message away. I will always be there to hold your hand however long you may need it. I love you, so very much. Denise

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  7. My dear, amazing Therese… *hugs* There are not enough words for people to understand that kind of loss. That kind of change. I am glad that you are surrounded by love and friends, that you are finding your footing in a new stage. I, for one, don’t think we ever move on. We imprint on each other’s souls, and that kind of pain speaks to the kind of love that was shared. One day at a time, a little at a time…. love you…

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