Monday, March 7, 2011

Grief: Not Being Able To Share Things

I'm up in the middle of the night again.  Crazy.  One of the things I'm missing is not being able to share things with Artie.  I can still talk to him - but it's obviously not the same.  I have a lot of people I can share things with.  Nobody is Artie.  That's the problem I can't seem to solve.  What do I need?  I need my husband.  What do I want?  I want my husband.  Ridiculous to keep wanting and needing what isn't possible - at least not right now - but I can't seem to stop.

I am reading a book written by someone who thinks Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray (about a man who becomes more and more evil and decadent but looks always very young and innocent - it is the portrait of him he has hidden that changes) was written about Jack the Ripper - that Oscar Wilde knew who he was.  Artie would find that interesting.  I saw a play today (to get me out of the house) called the Whipping Man.  It was about a Jewish confederate soldier returning home and his relationship with two of his freed slaves who were Jewish because the family were Jewish.  I know quite a bit about the Civil War but I didn't know that in April when Lee surrendered to Grant and Lincoln was assassinated it was also Passover.  There is this scene of one of the black - no longer a slave - men setting up a Seder in the ruined house in Richmond - that was brilliantly beautiful and sad.  When I liked a play I would buy two copies and Artie and I would read it together.

Of course, I can't spin him stories of my trip to Russia either. 

So many times a day things happen that I want to share with him because he got me - understood me - in a way that no one else does.  Also - we were first in each other's lives - with all the love I have that I am grateful for - there is the lack of that special connection.  They talk about having an empty nest.  My daughter is supposed to grow up and move out.  My nest feels empty because my husband died and moved to where it is that dead folks live.  He couldn't help it.  He didn't leave me because he wanted to.  It was his time to die. I just hate being left behind.

So...I write things off into cyber space.  Don't know exactly where that is either! 

I read on a grief site that some women take their weddings rings off fairly quickly.  I usually don't wear mine when I go out - but I like wearing them.  I always say I'm not in denial - but maybe feeling married is denial.  That strange place of not wanting to be alone but being in love with a specific person who is not available in any earthly way any more. 

No answers today.  Just questions.  Maybe one answer.  Keep writing, keep moving, keep searching.  Keep being a grief warrior instead of a grief casualty.  I have two stories to tell tonight I have to practice today - so will be out tonight at least laughing with friends.  Keep finding the laughter - let it fill the empty spaces.  xo

1 comment:

  1. Jan:
    You are so lucky to have had such a special bond with your husband. I can see why why you grieve for him so much. I could only wish for something as beautiful as you had with him.

    My losses are quite different than yours, but losses nonetheless.
    In the past year, I lost both a long-term relationship and a beloved pet.
    Losing the relationship has been hard because I realized that it never really was I thought it had been over all of those years. The anger and self-disgust over that just sucks the air right out of my soul. That I had been led to believe in a person that wasn't even "real".
    Losing my beloved pet - strangely hurt even more. I feel like she has been the only one in my lifetime that ever really loved me unconditionally. My family is far from close or loving, so she was my family. I get so tired of people saying that she was just a pet/animal/cat.
    If I had not had her when I did, I really don't think that I would be here right now. She was comfort and "home" to me.
    The worst things about grief are how it often reopens the wounds of past losses, how the silence in my home can just scream out from the walls, and that feeling of being in some strange, altered version of reality. The unfortunate feeling of waking up and realizing: "Wow. It wasn't just a bad dream, it really is real." Those are the days that I can't stop crying. I am so sick of crying. I'm not sure where this crying helps or hurts anymore, but when it rains, it sure pours....
    Thanks for this site. It somehow helps to hear what someone else goes through - that we all feel some of the same angst.