Sunday, March 13, 2016

#SOL16: Now

Trying to Get Home (M.A. Reilly, 2012)
Now, the house is empty.

For the last few months there have been so many wonderful friends and family, Hospice caregivers, and others in and out of our home and I have had so much to do for Rob while he was here or when he was hospitalized that now with such empty time before I feel adrift, unmoored, unanchored. My true north, my Rob is gone.

Now, others tell me it is time to begin to grieve.  And I guess I am. But unless you have lost your husband I don't think anyone can quite grasp how devastating this is, how I naturally slip into anticipation. I know he has died, but I still turn to the front door, expecting Rob to come through it.  I look at my phone expecting to see a text message or receive a phone call. I notice his briefcase by the couch and expect him to ask for it.  I made a meal last night and suddenly recalled that it was the same meal I made on December 28 for Rob and Devon. Then it was our 25th wedding anniversary.

What I know these days is  something so small and slim, you might write it on a slip of paper and fit it into your back pocket. When I cry, scream, and sob--when I talk to photographs of Rob,  or kiss one photograph of him--I feel better.  That's it.  I notice that when I don't try to stall the tears for fear that I will disturb others, the crying comes to a natural end and I find myself on the other side of a very dark and terrifying tunnel and my stomach calms for the moment. 

20 comments:

  1. You know so much. You give so much. In your grief, you are so hugely generous. I feel so guilty that none of us can hold onto any of it for you.

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    1. I just want to feel better and writing helps. Thank you again for reading.

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    2. I am so glad your find writing helps, Mary Ann. Just keep doing it for as long as you need to. I feel your sadness and know it will lessen as time goes by. You will always have Rob in your heart.

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  2. And please keep writing, Mary Ann. Those who care for you need it also.

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    1. Thanks Bill. I wondered if those reading this blog were tiring of my writing, I hate feeling so needy. Appreciate your words a lot .

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    2. Please keep writing.

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    3. For 28 years Rob signed everything he gave me Love always, all ways.

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  3. Never tiring; always learning from your writing. Thank you for letting us in, Mary Ann.

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  4. Keep writing. It's good for you, for your family, for your friends.

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  5. Mary Ann, thank you for sharing your heart. Continue to let your words flow out of your "now" for as you do, your words create a ripple of solace that reaches further than you will ever know.

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  6. tired of your writing? no...grateful for your writing

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    1. Thanks Erica. BTW, your jacket is here in our hall closet. Noticed it yesterday.

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    2. When you are ready for company please let me know and I'll come by.

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  7. I hope you will keep writing, Mary Ann, because it helps all of us. And I hope you'll write longer pieces when you have time. I know Rob wanted to write about all of this, and did write some, but after awhile couldn't do more. There is so much left to say.

    Love to you three. Mary Ellen

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