Dave had been really sick for a long time and even though it was not totally unexpected, the circumstances surrounding the day and the way he died were. To say these events were traumatic would be the understatement of the century but I have poured out all those ugly details in another blog I keep, the one where I tried to cleanse myself of the feelings that threatened to tear me to ribbons and cast me to the four winds.
I still keep that other blog because it is my small way of remembering what happened to us during the last 2 years of his life because some of it was actually quite wonderful. It is surprising how precious life and love become when someone is coming to the end of their journey. That is what happened to us, even though we were as in love and passionate about each other on the last day of Dave's life as we were the first moment we realized we were in love. That other blog is also where I have tried to purge some of the emotions that have threatened to swallow me whole during the last 10 months. That blog is about Dave. This one is about me.
It simply was not fair that Dave died but then who said life is fair? It isn't, never has been,never will be. He was an amazing, wonderful man who didn't deserve to die like he did, not at 50 years of age, not at the prime of his life. He had lived well in his half century on Planet Earth but there was still so much he could and would have done. If only he had been given some more time. ("If only..." is something I hear people say all the time and I just want to shake them and say, "Never let there be any reason for you to have an "if only"...". Sometimes I think that if you have regrets, you made them yourself and they are your own fault, but that isn't kind and it isn't always true, either. Many of the people I have met in this new world I live in had regrets thrust upon them...by a drunk driver, a boating accident, an assassin's bullet and more. I have no excuse for thinking those thoughts, but sometimes my widow brain thinks in skewed visions because it is damaged, you know. )
But he wasn't given any more time and there isn't a single thing I can do about any of the things that happened in the past. It is over, it is done, it can't be changed. My guy was very wise and he told me many times we have to live in the now because the past is the past and the future hasn't happened yet, so all that is real is this very moment in time. He was right....oh man, was he right....although I think that it is more likely that my "now" is more surreal than real.
That is how it is for widows, you know. That parallel universe we live in. It is a world that is beyond the comprehension of those who have not experienced it. It is not the same as losing a parent, a child, a sibling or other loved one. Not to diminish any of those. I have experienced other loss in my life, loss of people I was deeply connected to, but nothing....N O T H I N G....compares to this. I didn't just lose a person I loved with all my heart and soul, I lost my very best friend, my confidant, my lover, the person I had spent 16 years building a life with and suddenly it was all just gone. My entire life was gone the moment he took his last breath. Erased. Ended. Over. So much more than just the loss of my husband. Total obliteration of not just one life, but two.
I still keep that other blog because it is my small way of remembering what happened to us during the last 2 years of his life because some of it was actually quite wonderful. It is surprising how precious life and love become when someone is coming to the end of their journey. That is what happened to us, even though we were as in love and passionate about each other on the last day of Dave's life as we were the first moment we realized we were in love. That other blog is also where I have tried to purge some of the emotions that have threatened to swallow me whole during the last 10 months. That blog is about Dave. This one is about me.
It simply was not fair that Dave died but then who said life is fair? It isn't, never has been,never will be. He was an amazing, wonderful man who didn't deserve to die like he did, not at 50 years of age, not at the prime of his life. He had lived well in his half century on Planet Earth but there was still so much he could and would have done. If only he had been given some more time. ("If only..." is something I hear people say all the time and I just want to shake them and say, "Never let there be any reason for you to have an "if only"...". Sometimes I think that if you have regrets, you made them yourself and they are your own fault, but that isn't kind and it isn't always true, either. Many of the people I have met in this new world I live in had regrets thrust upon them...by a drunk driver, a boating accident, an assassin's bullet and more. I have no excuse for thinking those thoughts, but sometimes my widow brain thinks in skewed visions because it is damaged, you know. )
But he wasn't given any more time and there isn't a single thing I can do about any of the things that happened in the past. It is over, it is done, it can't be changed. My guy was very wise and he told me many times we have to live in the now because the past is the past and the future hasn't happened yet, so all that is real is this very moment in time. He was right....oh man, was he right....although I think that it is more likely that my "now" is more surreal than real.
That is how it is for widows, you know. That parallel universe we live in. It is a world that is beyond the comprehension of those who have not experienced it. It is not the same as losing a parent, a child, a sibling or other loved one. Not to diminish any of those. I have experienced other loss in my life, loss of people I was deeply connected to, but nothing....N O T H I N G....compares to this. I didn't just lose a person I loved with all my heart and soul, I lost my very best friend, my confidant, my lover, the person I had spent 16 years building a life with and suddenly it was all just gone. My entire life was gone the moment he took his last breath. Erased. Ended. Over. So much more than just the loss of my husband. Total obliteration of not just one life, but two.
