Saturday, April 02, 2022

The trough

September 22, 2021, the day my life was altered forever

My beloved Gus, husband and soulmate of 40 years, left this life

But for my sister, Carol, who has called every night and sent me myriads of poems and readings via US mail, and Butch, Gus' son, who skypes daily, I think I would be lost, drowned in the trough as Judy Brown so beautifully writes. Carol sent this poem at just the right time I think -- after a really tough day at the 6 month mark.  And yes I do keep count--

Unable to put feelings to words
Chest heavy and hurting
Trying to keep so busy to fill the emptiness (the house is cleaner than it's been in a long time)
Laughing with Carol or Butch and then later sobbing alone
Staying up late enough to just collapse into bed so I could sleep
This image depicts me in the first few months and intermittently now

Grief flickr photo by HerryLawford shared under a Creative Commons (BY) license

As I nodded, sometimes smiled, and wept, 
And underlined and turned down corner pages
As Steve Leder's writing spoke to me
I was more able to make that choice, to choose what I remembered
Rather than be haunted by the hard months prior to his death and that night
But the joy, the love, the special times we had -- and those abound
The beauty of what remains

Each day my conversations with Gus
Focus more and more on that
And it seems that perhaps now I realize I am growing around my grief

That I can now write this, and hopefully actually be able to verbalize it soon to Carol and Butch
For that I am grateful--

As Judy writes:
But if we rest there in the trough, in silence, 
being in the low part of the wave, 
keeping our energy and noticing the shape of things, the flow, 
then time alone will bring us to another place where we can see horizon,
see land again, 
regain our sense of where we are, and where we need to swim.
I'm feeling maybe I can see the land again and may be able to regain my sense of where I need to swim--

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