I have always been strong, confident, almost on the edge of cocky. I have alway been completely sure of myself and since my Dave died I am completely lost sometimes. I have never had this experience before and I have a hard time dealing with it. Even when I was divorced, after 25 years of marriage, I didn't go to pieces. I just did what I had to do and get along okay. But maybe that was because I had two kids that depended on me still. Now it is pretty much me and my companion animals. My kids are grown, married with lives of their own. Dave was my best friend, as well as partner in all things and that has been a blow, too. I try to explain that to people sometimes....losing your husband, your lover, your champion and your best friend all in one fell swoop is very, very hard.

5 Months Living in My House of Pain

I used to look down that imaginary road toward my future and see nothing but a shining light at the end because Dave was walking beside me on that road, holding my hand. Now when I try to look into the future there is simply nothing there and try as I might, I can't conjure up any mental image of anything that looks remotely like something that might be called happiness. Maybe it is just too soon to feel any other way.  That is what I want to believe and that so that is what I will believe. Or at least, I will try to believe.

Yesterday marked five months since Dave died. Those five months will stretch into a year, that year will become five more and nothing will have changed. That is my biggest fear, I guess, that nothing will have changed. Dave taught me that "fear it the mind killer" (that came from one of our favorite movies) and he was right.  Most of the things I fear right now are in my head, things that I think about, not things that actually exist. He also taught me that the past is gone and the future hasn't happened yet, so live in the moment, live in the now. I know that he was right about those things but my "now" doesn't include him and it sucks and I don't want to live in it. Man, if he could see me wallowing in this grief he would be so pissed off.

Being this despondent is not in my nature. I am generally not given to bouts of depression or even extreme sadness.  I have always tried to be happy. Not the bubbly, smiley type of bliss that I think most people think of when they think of someone who is happy. Just not my style.  It has never been necessary for me to have possessions to make me happy, although I believe that anybody who thinks that any object is the key to happiness is a little off kilter anyway.  Happiness for me is a more serene state, one where I feel good about myself and others.

Having someone in my life to love and to be loved by has been the key for me. Practical, down to earth Me knows that nobody is responsible for my happiness but me. But romantic, love to be in love Me wants somebody in her life. But not just anybody. She wants Dave and she would do anything under Heaven and Earth if it was possible to get him back here. Well, almost anything...I imagine there are several things I would not even consider, but you get my drift.

So, what do I do with all that. I have a group of other widow friends who offer a hand or shoulder when needed.  Some are newer at this than I and some are much farther down their own roads.  No one has said that they are "over" their grief, only that they have learned to put it in a place where it is not so painful to deal with every day.  I guess there is some truth to the saying that "without the darkness we wouldn't appreciate the light" and so on. Maybe without the pain, we wouldn't cherish the love.  So much love brings so much pain.