Wednesday, June 11, 2008

A Message - 6/11/08

I’ve been a widow for three weeks today.  Funny how time keeps moving away from that moment of ultimate loss.  A part of me is still there sitting by the bed in the hospice center.  I can still hear the silence and feel the warmth of his hand.  The rest of me is left to pick up the pieces of my life and move on with the flow of time.  Yesterday I took my Mother out for dinner to celebrate her 84th birthday.  I spend days going through papers, notifying financial institutions of his passing, filling out forms, and talking to strangers on the phone who express their condolences.  One woman even apologized for my loss, twice.  Did she have something to do with the cancer or was she just unaware that she was choosing the wrong word?  I’ve become so aware that the words people say to those grieving can ring as hollow and meaningless as a bell in the wilderness.  They mean well, but they can’t begin to plumb the depths.  Even if they themselves have suffered every kind of loss, they have not experienced your loss in your way.  How could they?  They haven’t lived with and loved as you have.  They haven’t breathed your same air.

I find myself sleeping on his side of the bed.  There is a comfort in that.   I can’t eat at the kitchen table.  It just feels too lonely there where we always ate together.  I only cook once a week which will last several days and then I’ll eat salads or graze on vegetables and hard boiled eggs.

Next week my Granddaughter will be out of school for the summer and will be here with me during the week.  I suppose I’ll have to start cooking more regularly again, living more regularly again.

On the night of June 2nd at 1:37 in the morning, I was lying awake.  I heard a voice very loudly in my left ear.  The voice said “I’m back home now.”  It didn’t frighten me, but it did startle me.  I didn’t recognize the voice.  It seemed male.  I think it was Warren letting me know that he’d made it to the other side.  The last week of his life I talked to him a lot about going home.  The card I chose for the funeral home prayer card said “Going Home”.  I’m grateful for the message.

(The picture is Warren in 1980.)

18 comments:

  1. Can you post some new recipes? :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Didn't Warren say something about the ceiling fan? I am sure that he was planning to try to reach you and I am sure he will. God Bless.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bennett, he's been fooling with the ceiling fan too.

    Cor, what would you want widow's soup?

    ReplyDelete
  4. There is alway comfort in the first message. I am glad you didn't have to wait long for yours.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Cor, that would be pinto beans and cornbread. Very simple fare from his South-western Virgina roots.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Nym, you're right. I wasn't expecting it to be so loud and clear, but I'm glad it was.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I am sorry to hear that your husband lost his battle with cancer. I don't know if anyone could say anything that would make you feel better at this time.
    I often worry about losing my own husband as his health is not what it should be.
    My father passed away in 1973 and it still effects me to this day.It was devastating for our family and my sympathy goes out to you.
    Sincerely,
    Erika

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thank you Erika. I pray your husband stays well.

    ReplyDelete
  9. He Is Home. Walked through a Door of Time and Space.

    ReplyDelete
  10. thanx for sharing......hang in there...God is with you(and He will comfort you in the tough times)...God bless.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I work with a woman who lost her husband to cancer a few years ago. I watched her as she grieved and I stood by and watched as everyone around her tried so hard to comfort her. People don't know what to say - so they either tend to say nothing, or say too much which might end up seeming hollow.

    When I can't help someone's pain, I tend to apologize. I apologize for the pain they're feeling, for the pain I can't take away nor begin to fathom. We internalize. (or I do, I should say) I cannot feel the depth of your pain, but I can empathize strongly with your loss...

    Oh cheryl, I've followed your posts now for what... a few years? I so wish I could have met your Warren - and one day I hope to meet you...

    Hugs,
    Rose

    ReplyDelete
  12. Thanks Rose. I wasn't referring to anyone here. It was mostly strangers who were trying to do the right thing, but it is difficult to know what to say to someone who has lost a spouse. Grief can make you very sensitive and cranky. LOL

    ReplyDelete
  13. I lost someone once to suicide - by hanging. Everyone tried to comfort me. Some would say "hang in there", then they would realize what they had said and be horrified. Somehow I got through. Finally I was able to tell them - that's ok and even laugh. But this was not a life partner or a child of mine, or I am sure it would be much harder,

    ReplyDelete
  14. I think I remember you like black birds. I found one for you.

    ReplyDelete