I MISS HIS TOUCH

I miss being touched.

His eyes ... his beautiful Asian eyes that could touch all of me.

My gentle giant always touched me with tenderness (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEztui18cA8 & https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu6DUq3QboI)

Bob was always gently touching me - his touch always telling me he was trustworthy.

Not just any touch … HIS touch.

The touching, the kisses that never ended until December 14th, 2018 at 8.05 AM

His hand, gentle on my hip, saying, "It's o.k. - I'm right here beside you."

Bob was always reaching out for me and pulling me into his loving embrace.

My favorite embrace. We couldn't stop touching ... always touching like this. Even in our sleep.

I have missed Bob, and his touch every day for the past 20 months.

He held me for 44 years.

For 44 years he gently pulled me closer and held me so I could hear his heart beat just for me; I set the tempo of  my life to the rhythm of his heatbeat.

The happy look of love. That look was a steady comfort for 44 years (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcJm1pOswfM)

Bob's touch was my ‘Home’; I have been homeless for 20 months.

21 hours and 10 minutes from now will mark 21 months Bob’s place of residence has shifted from here with me on Earth, to that glorious celestial City – Heaven – beyond the clouds.

21 months. Tomorrow morning. 8:05 AM.

The morning started with a smile and a laugh: I sharpened my scissors by myself!

Since March of this year, I’ve done okay with the ‘missingness’: I’ve barely been home. Giving my gypsy bone free reign this year has helped tremendously in redirecting my thoughts.

It's complicated.

There are times when I can feel the weight of the missingness settling on me, and I know when I lay my head on the pillow of our bed, that I will be leaving on a daytrip adventure as soon as I wake in the morning – this is a planned escape. Then, there are times when acute missingness strikes me, and I just stop whatever I am doing; grab my backpack/purse and flee. Sometimes the sudden fleeing helps, sometimes it doesn’t. But, in that moment, I have to put distance between me and the house that is no longer our home – Bob is not there. Bob will never be there again. That reality is a missingness that claws at my heart with an intensity that threatens to suck the very life out of me. I HAVE to get away… and I have to do it fast.

I boldly and rebelliously bucked the governors’ covid mandates in both States. If I were closer to Idaho, I’d have included that State too.

But, now the surrounding wildfires – some started naturally, by Mother Nature … but far too many maliciously started by retarded firebugs: some unquestionably connected to black lives matter arsonists (regardless of leftist denials: it is a proven fact the pyromania anarchists are directly linked to blm rioting); and some fires have been started by deadheads watching cities go up in flames while anarchist governors smile for the cameras and march arm in arm with the race-baiting-firebug anarchists. The deadheads think they are aiding blm in the ‘woke’ movement.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/09/social-distancing.html)

So, the entire PNW is aflame with a wildfire racial war, as well as actual out-of-control wildfires burning through forests in the mountains surrounding us, burning through forests/dry grasses in the gorge, catching flame along the I-5 corridor and decimating entire towns (some towns gone forever, now); the atmosphere in 3 demonrat controlled states is thick with heavy, low hanging smoke cover that has blocked the sun out entirely the past 2 days, and keeps people inside because the air is not healthy to breathe – the pungent campfire odor sears the lungs and it can be tasted: it is that strong in the air.

Right now, in my neighborhood, there is a major hike in the air quality index reading: 354! Extremely hazardous to my already compromised lungs – I was born with weak lungs and have struggled to breathe easy all my life; I don’t need the added chaos caused by demonrat firebugs.

And there is no one I can “reach out and touch” … either by phone, or by actual physical contact.

When people like me, widowed and cruelly abandoned by children and grandchildren are alone with their thoughts, it can get overwhelming. Fast.

Right now, there is no chance of getting out of the house.

Stepping outside, with weak lungs like mine, is a sure death sentence. And while death does not frighten me, and I prefer being with Yeshua & Bob as opposed to living the hell obama’s demonic minions are forcing on me … painfully choking to death, alone, on the cement pad in the carport by smoke asphyxiation is not the way I want to leave this life. That seems very undignified to my way of thinking. I prayed Bob’s leaving would be dignified: and it was. I am praying my leaving will be dignified; and I believe it will be. Elohim is faithful to His children – and I am His daughter.

Being trapped inside the house, breathing the same stale air for days on end, is not healthy either. Fresh air is essential for a healthy life, and a healthy functioning brain – things will reach a critical level if the air does not clear up soon so people can get outside.

I am used to hopping in the Highlander and taking off to find fresh air away from the smog of Longview, to heal my lungs and soothe my soul: eyeing the Highlander parked in the carport from the window in the laundry room appears to be too much of a risk to take right now – and even if I did take the risk, and held my breath until I was in the car … where would I go? THE AIR IS BAD EVERWHERE. There is no “safe place” at the moment.

My thoughts of Bob aren’t even safe right now.

My thoughts are focusing on Bob’s touch.

Memories of self-sufficient lessons are a good touch - but they are not enough when they trigger other emotions that have been shifted to the cold storage area of my life.

Bob’s touch could always calm me down; Bob knew how to touch me – his touch soothed me in ways I cannot define with mere words.

I miss being touched.

I miss Bob’s touch.

I am missing Bob's actual physical touch.

Bob liked touching me, and knowing I was beside him.

He was always reaching out when I was walking past, and pulling me down to his tight hugs. I loved his touch.

Missing every day touches.

Bob's touch was a comfort to the both of us. A solid anchor in an uncertain world.

My King Bee always treated me like his Queen. I loved feeling his tender, comforting hands on my body.

I miss Bob's lovemaking touch. I don’t want anyone to touch me like Bob did. Ever. That part of my life belongs to Bob – always. I miss his touch, but I am not interested in filling that void with anyone else.

This is shaky ground to be standing on.

This is not a good place for my thoughts to go right now.

And until the wildfires are under control/smoke dissipates, and the shut-in restrictions are relaxed, there is no escape when missingness overwhelms me.

Logically, I know the missingness will always be a part of the retouched part of the canvas that is my life. But I don’t want it to override the whole of the canvas; and right now … with the never-ending shut-ins, the angry abandonments, the flash-in-the-pan friendships, and the continual looping boomerang back to square 1 … it is piling on thick and mucking up the picture.

I miss all the touches. Bob and I touched every day - I sure could use his touches now.

If Bob were here, there would be no boomerang effect ... his touches would keep a steady momentum.

I am missing Bob’s soothing touch so much because I have no one in my life, to share my life with.

On any level.

Married friends have their families in times like this. Single friends have their families – or significant others – in times like this; or they are actively involved in the dating scene, and that’s all they talk about. I do not have family to surround myself with in times like this … and I am not interested in immersing myself in the dating scene: that would not be helpful at all.

So, I am being a bit more specific in asking Elohim to send me a companion. I don’t want a boyfriend, I don’t want a husband, and I don’t want a ‘friend with benefits’: I do not want to replace Bob – Bob will be my husband, always. I just want a companion friend; preferably a male, as I already have several female friends and I am missing a male counterpart to balance the friendship scales.

I miss male interaction. I am not seeking a romantic involvement – just a platonic friendship.

And I want Elohim to pick him for me – Elohim knows what I need to complete the circle of life He created me to live out.

I’m not going to try wading into uncharted waters on my own … the world is a freaky place nowadays: there’s too many twisted and confused society minions swimming upstream masquerading as men, wearing jeans and flannel shirts … and wearing victoria’s secret underneath: NOT INTERESTED in that! Walking on the wild side is not my thing.

Elohim will send the perfect person across my path and into my life … a man who will understand the boundaries, and won’t misunderstand a simple human touch: things will not get blown out of proportion by the touch of a hand or a comforting hug. I have had platonic friendships before; it is healthy companionship for a well-balanced life.

A compatible friendship for 2021 is what I am asking for: nothing more.