My morning walk with the dogs to the mailbox is when I do my
best reflecting. The day is new and the
sky is usually beautiful. Thoughts race
in and out of my mind faster than I could ever record them and as I so often
do, I write an entry in my Occasional
Widow’s Blog. Words and thoughts
flow freely, beautifully expressed, inspired, introspective and profound.
This morning as with so many other mornings, my thoughts
turned to my home and the life we built here.
I am filled with gratitude and sorrow.
I remember the first time we saw the property. The planning.
The clearing of the property each weekend. Tree cutting, massive bonfires 2, 3 at a
time. The ankle twisting on the glacial
deposit rocks. The house plan. The decisions, endless decisions. How did we do this with a toddler? The construction. The endless finishing, tweaking, maintenance. The joys.
The sorrows. The dreams. The kids playing. The dogs playing. The chickens.
Life. The struggle. The joy.
I see and process this all in the wink of an eye. Like the proverbial seeing your life flash
before your eyes. Full. Happy.
Sad. Love. Joy.
Life. Death. How?
Why? What next? Beauty.
Gratitude. Hard work. Good Fortune.
I don’t feel like it.
I must feel like it. Maybe must
is not the right work, have to go on, perhaps??
Alone, but not alone.
Scared. Tired. I don’t want to leave this place we
created. But, I probably need to for so
many reasons. The work that went into
this creation of life and home. And I have
to remember to fix that fence.
Damn it. You
kept me steady. Made me think
un-selfishly. Changed me. Thank you.
Can you hear me? See the
struggle? I appreciate all you did for
me and us. Who you were. I got you and you were miles deep.
While I’m the glass half full gal, I believe that the
adventure that awaits me is probably going to be grand. But I wanted that adventure to begin with him. And I’m here without him, missing him, seeing
him in all that’s around me. In my children. In my home.
In my soul. I am a dichotomy of
feelings about moving on. It could be
good. But… I
must continue to be brave and fight.
Each morning, much the same conversation – with myriad other task reminders that insert themselves into the stream of consciousness. I am probably depressed if I let myself think about it for too long. It’s still a lot. I’m still not ready to go. I want to linger.
That’s how I am right now.
Trying to be gentle. Eating
cheese and crackers. Better than
drinking.
January 23, 2019.
