It’s been 29 months/6 days/4 hours & 20 minutes.
Exactly.
And aside from the acute missingness I get hit with now and then … my life really is a very good one.
I have loved deeply, and passionately; and I have been loved deeply and passionately.
I have a home. Paid for.
I have a car. Paid for.
I have financial security – Bob paid for.
There’s no need to secure a job; I can enjoy
retirement 100%.
My health, at 64, is relatively good; aside
from the environmental asthma aspect – and the occasional arthritis flareup.
When I am stuck indoors for days on end (like now, with constant rainfall for days on end), my thoughts still wander to the memories of my 44-year-lifespan with Bob (and even longer – to the 7 years before those 44, when I loved him before I even knew him): 51 years of loving one man. The memories are all good.
Over the last 6 months, I have been living more in the present.
The memories still come; but not as frequent – and they don’t tear at my heart. I’m okay with that.
Sometimes, I still cry when a memory visits my thoughts and heart.
But the crying is not as frequent – and not as heartbreaking. I’m really okay with that.
My eyes don't look continually sad; and my life doesn't appear haunted anymore.
Some mornings, waking up to the reality of my empty life now; I wonder if those 44 years of intimate life, with the love of my life, was just a dream.
But, standing in the shower, I see the barely visible stretch marks on my breasts that attest to my pregnancy. I carried our love child (conceived in marriage – formed in all-consuming-passionate love) in my body for 9 months. That was not a dream.
That child we created in the late Spring of 1975, added two more; a girl in the Fall of 1995, and a boy in the Summer of 2014. They are not a dream.
He shared his life with me for most of my life. That is a real fact. My body, and the yield of our love attests to that.
I see Bob’s handsome face smiling at me from the picture of US that sits atop the fireplace mantel in the livingroom.
Those snapshot moments were not a dream.
He lived.
That was a real fact.
Pictures testify to that.
Though Bob was – and still is, my ‘dream man’; he was a very real part of my life for most of my life. I married him at 17½, and was widowed at 61½ … 15 days before my 62nd birthday.
His physical body died, the Winter of 2018. That is a real fact: the little blue Urn … that matches his eye color … that holds ashy residue as proof of his living, and sits on the fireplace mantle next to his picture; attests to that.
I know Bob’s presence in my life was not ‘just a dream’ – even thought the passing of time without his physical presence, can at times feel like all of it was a dream.
A beautiful, out of reach dream.
And I am, after everything that has transpired in my life from December 14th, 2018, to today June 6th, 2021, waking up to the fact that for me, life still must go on.
Fully.
Not half-assed.
This is not a new concept: I’ve been actively turning the new pages of my new life for quite some time, now. All of 2020 to be exact.
But, staring at this new page before me today, I’m not quite sure how to continue penciling ‘moving forward’, in.
I have gained new friendships since December 2018.
I have gained confidence with the help of those new friendships, and waded into the daunting depths of social life activities (minus the dating scene) since October of 2019.
I have ventured out of my comfort zone both socially, and figurately; as I zipped back and forth in the car, between home base and places close to home (avoiding the freeway – hate the frenzied freeway action; and the sudden crying jags out of nowhere) that I decided to revisit – all of 2020.
I spread my wings a little broader, and more wide-ranging, as soon as weather permitted this year (occasionally traveling the freeway short distances – so far; helped with no frenzied freeway anxiety; and no crying jags out of nowhere): so far, so good as 2021 unfolds 😉
But staring at the new page before me in the next chapter of my new life, I don’t know how to proceed forward.
The pencil is poised to scratch its way across this new page – to mark more new beginnings … and I am hesitant to begin.
I miss having someone in my life.
Not just anyone: a partner.
An equal companion.
Someone who cares that I walk this Earth.
A best-friend-person; someone I can be myself with.
A “go-to” person who won’t judge me – someone who will meet me on my terms, and who will accept me unconditionally.
Someone I can share my remaining life with.
Someone more than a casual friend; less than a lover-friend.
A best-friend-type of someone … who has no expectations of becoming ‘spouse’.
It’s a complicated kind of friendship.
But I do believe it exists – and I want it.
I miss the daily teasing banter that comes with easy companionship.
I miss sharing the differing male-female insights in conversations.
I miss cooking/sharing a meal with someone.
I miss someone riding in the passenger seat: and sharing the day with me, on an adventurous daytrip.
I miss sharing nature’s breathtaking beauty with someone.
I miss sharing life’s milestones with someone.
Ideally, I want to share all of those things with Bob.
But Bob is no longer here.
Bob will never be here again.
And life goes on.
MY LIFE must still go on … and move fully into the future.
Leaping, and embracing fully, includes a new someone.
No one is ever so libreated they exclude others.
People need people in thier lives.
Yeshua created us with that basic need for companionship.
I do miss someone in my life: I miss being in someone’s life – I can’t truthfully deny that fact.
That’s What Friends Are For: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQDo8ZkvI_E
But I still love my husband.
Deeply.
Passionately – I can’t truthfully deny that fact, either.
In My Life: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AT6n5ws4vWk
Adding a new someone to my current new life story is best done in pencil instead of pen: pencil is amendable – pen in permanent.
Trying to sort {my feels} is complex.
My life with Bob shaped my life – all of my life; even the life I am advancing into, today. My life (no matter what stage) will always include Bob’s imprint.
So, with pencil poised to mark a new page in a new day – I ask, am I really ready for this new leap forward?
Will I be able to control what unfolds, following the leap?
I know what I want … will the futuristic unknown ‘someone’ respect my limitations as things move forward?
This current page in my unfolding life may remain unmarked for quite a while, still, before the pencil begins its scratching entries.
Babe, what should I do?
Help me!
I Will Always Love You: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGs1soJT9gE
Yeshua!
Prepare me for whatever comes.
I’m Gonna Be Ready: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpbCR-MaEEk
