I am coming off the high of a weekend with my dear friends, signing a purchase agreement with someone interested in buying my house, and of course the first bridal shower for my daughter in law to be. Yesterday I went to a funeral for the husband of an old high school class mate who lost her husband suddenly. I felt strong enough to go to the funeral, and had a few moments of teary eyes as I reflected selfishly back to last October trying to remember what was said and who was there. Today I sit on the ground, tangled in all these emotions. I missed Steve so much this weekend while with my boys in Alabama. I longed to share it all with him at nights end and a few times in between. That was perhaps the bitter in an otherwise sweet weekend.
I am so excited for the wedding and seeing my new grandbaby be born next week and mixed in all that are the reality moments of it; Steve isn’t here. I tried to explain to my mom that it isn’t the same sharing with friends and family as it is with a spouse who knows everything about you. Steve was proud and happy and sad about what I was proud, happy or sad about because we shared our hearts. Is there anything more intimate than that? I don’t think there is so I don’t mean to discount sharing with friends or family, but there is a missing element our shared heart. I miss that and maybe will have it again someday, but I doubt it.
Acceptance is settling in now. It has been a transition to be home again with all its activities, and lack of activity. The lack of privacy is different not that mom and dad have encroached, but you just can’t do whatever moves you when it moves you, like vacuuming in the nude in the middle of the night when sleep won’t take over. I want you to know I haven’t done that yet, but it isn’t even an option now, it is outside the realm of possibility now. I used to go out in my back yard in my pajamas in the middle of the night watching the sky and listening to the night sounds never having to worry about my neighbors, loved that, miss that. I am adjusting to city living again different sounds, brighter night less stars. It is much like adjusting to my empty home in Selma, knowing Steve’s laughter would never echo there again. I mourn the loss of privacy, my familiar surroundings, and rural noises and yes that includes the occasional gunshot and crow of a rooster, even that obnoxious braying donkey half a mile away. I miss the frolicking deer in my yard, and even the pesky chipmunks because they were all mine and very familiar to me.
I have had to sleep with ear plugs since moving back home. It is not all about the noisy air conditioner outside my bedroom window, dogs barking, motorcycles zoom and fireworks explode in the night sky on holidays. I know I will get used to all this noise and peace will reign againbut first I must adjust to all that and the faster pace of living here. Everyone seems to be hurried only some smile and take the time for a greeting. I enjoy trying to engage people in conversation. I know it sounds like everyone is unfriendly, they aren’t, it’s just that the small town I just left was very friendly. People waved to each other as you passed them on the rural roads or if they were out mowing their yards. I found this fascinating when I first moved there. They called it “throwing up a hand.” I remember a neighbor being upset with a neighbor because he couldn’t take the time to “throw up a hand” when he drove by so he in turn wouldn’t throw his up. I have noticed the yard workers looking at me strangely as I throw up a hand as I pass them by. They are wondering if I know them or if I am harassing them probably. I could conform, but I rather like throwing up a hand at someone just to keep them wondering.
I ponder and find myself longing for my Heavenly home some days mostly being lazy and feeling sorry for myself and not wanting to figure all this out. Some days I wonder if I am suicidal, wanting to be done with this world but I really don’t want to die, I want to live, but I want to live with all my loved ones. Yes we all die, no newsflash there, but why don’t we get enough time to say everything we should say. Why can’t we have it all? This is why I welcome death when I can have it all, God, family and freedom. I have some regrets with Steve like never telling him enough (in my opinion) how much he meant to me. Death can come so I can see him and tell him in an instant everything I should have said and vice versa. I will never do anything to hurry my death along, I just long to see my home again and other people I miss, but mainly Steve right now. I imagine the older I get I will know less living people and I will probably long more to see the long list of my dead loved ones more. For now, I have more people here living in the present and I don’t want to miss a moment in their lives.
Steve, I am once again throwing this into the airwaves, hoping it catches a good wave and you are able to receive it and know how much you meant to me. This whole grandparent, wedding stuff will be hard without you but I hope you know, you are the only one I can wholly share this with and I am off balance right now. You really did complete me. I will be throwing up a hand from time to time darling, hope you see them. In my present circumstances I will be throwing them up in surrender. I feel defeated today because you didn’t make it to these happy times with me. I shouldn’t be the only one standing in for us at these joyous occasions in the lives of our children. I surrender, I don’t understand but I know it is alright somehow. I will make it save me a seat.
No comments:
Post a Comment