Homesick

"When you lose your partner, you lose your intimate, domestic life. You lose the one who is equally committed to your life, present and future. You lose the intimate daily details of life. You lose home."

These aren't my words, but they are similar to things I've said.  When Brian died, I lost more than my husband; I lost my life.  People who haven't watched their spouse die can't really understand this.

We're expected to mourn and then return to life.  Go back home, go back to work, return to life.  But when your beloved dies, you become homeless.  You're home becomes just a house filled with souvenirs. You can't return to your life, because the life you knew has ended.

You have to discover a new reason to live, create a new home in which you can feel safe, open yourself to the possibility that you might someday find happiness again.

I can't feel at home in my house, but I'm not ready to pack up my souvenirs and move.  My life isn't here, but ours was.  The thought of moving is like walking away from everything comfortable, familiar and desired.

With Brian, home could have been anywhere.  On my own, I feel homeless despite the fact that I own a very beautiful home.

I don't know how to process these feelings.  I accept that Brian is dead.  I accept that that part of my life is over.  I know that he wanted me to be happy and to allow myself to love and to be loved.  What I don't know is how to create a home alone.

Alone

Life goes on whether we want it to or not. There are good times, bad times, challenging times..... No matter what is happening, you feel the loss. Family cares, friends are kind and generous and supportive, but at the end of the day when you face life without your partner, you face it alone.

I'm luckier than most. I'm blessed with a lot of people who love me and who help me so much. I'm so grateful so I feel so guilty to admit to feeling so alone.

I'm tired of pretending that I'm strong or brave. I'm tired of trying to hide the depth of my fears. I'm tired of living alone and pretending that any part of that is ok.

Brian was always there for me, and I hope I was always there for him. Lately I question if I was there for him in the way he needed in the end. I hope that in his illness he didnt feel as alone as I feel right now.

Surviving

Sitting out on the deck in the dark. Remembering a night almost ten years ago. July 2004. The night Larry finally moved out. I rushed to change the locks, and then I sat alone in the dark on the patio, and I called Brian. We talked and listened to the thunder.

There was so much hope, so much promise. I had such a sense of relief. I had survived.

And tonight I sit alone and listen to the crickets. Lola is lying at my feet, happily dozing. She feels safe.

I'm trying so hard to remember how I felt that night.  I've survived once more, but there is no relief. No promise. No safety. The solitude offers no comfort, but it has become familiar.

I've learned so much and so little in ten years. Everything changes; everything remains the same.

Bullshit

Sometimes I think that Facebook's main purpose it to expose us to crap that will piss us off.  Like this quote that I saw on Facebook tonight:


"The truth is that the more intimately you know someone, the more clearly you’ll see their flaws. That’s just the way it is. This is why marriages fail, why children are abandoned, why friendships don’t last. You might think you love someone until you see the way they act when they’re out of money or under pressure or hungry, for goodness’ sake. Love is something different. Love is choosing to serve someone and be with someone in spite of their filthy heart. Love is patient and kind, love is deliberate. Love is hard. Love is pain and sacrifice, it’s seeing the darkness in another person and defying the impulse to jump ship."



Seriously?  I don't think so.  I agree that love is patient, kind and deliberate, but I've know real love and it was never hard. Love doesn't mean not having or recognizing each others' weaknesses. Love means that dispite our weaknesses we treat each other with kindness and forgiveness. Love should never be pain or sacrifice. True love, for me, was perfect. The only thing painful about it was watching him die - and because I loved him so, there was nowhere else I would have been.

I have more love in me, and I believe that I can experience true love again.  And I won't accept that that means accepting pain and sacrifice.  It means having the grace to treat another lovingly even in difficult times and circumstance.  If it feels "hard" to love, you may be doing it wrong.