Today is an exceptionally Blue Monday. I was reminded of how Gwen would always say that her Mondays were blue the day after we parted for another week. The weather certainly contributes today. It's one of days that my friend, Tom, and I used to call "D" days--dark, dank, damp, dismal, dreary, dull, drippy and, if that weren't enough; depressing. It's a day in September in Michigan; a day when a husband likes to have his wife with him; even when Gwen was very sick, just having her in the house always added a ray of sunshine to an otherwise gloomy day. She simply did not believe in allowing oneself to become down. She would always ask the question: "What should we do today?" And, I better have an answer, even if it was simply going for a ride in the car. Sitting and doing nothing, worse yet, feeling sorry for yourself, just wasn't an option. Just writing about her, and remembering yet another of the things about her that made her so special in my eyes and to all who knew her, has already begun to lift my mood. It also makes me so much more aware of the thin veil that separates us from those who have gone before us.
Overall, I would say that getting away for four days on a golf outing was a good idea. It was heartwarming how some of the young, macho dudes that were a part of the outing and knew that Gwen had died didn't express anything in words. Instead, there were several well-appreciated, totally unexpected hugs. They obviously hadn't read the "I'm Soooo Sorry for Your Loss" book, and in this setting I was thankful for it. It's always better to walk your talk.
At one point during one of the days on the golf course I was walking, by myself, down a path bordered by flowers and apple trees filled with fruit. I had the most reassuring feeling that Gwen was there with me, holding my hand as we walked together. Now, looking back at it, I know that it was not my imagine running wild; at that moment it was as real as the smell of freshly-mowed grass, which also can't be seen. At that moment I clearly understood what the writer in a book I recently read meant when he said that we are all living together in eternity.
When I walked into the cold, empty house last night, Dear, it was another of those moments when I am keenly aware that you will never again greet me with a smile and embrace. Yet, it was so good to be back home, where your presence is everywhere.
1 comment:
Yes John,dark dank days will always add to the blues I feel, but it is odd how your beloved can suddenly seem to be right at your side when you least expect them or you can feel their presence acutely at odd moments. Recently when in Egypt I felt Hamada nearby, often with a whispered word or his hand in mine.This was of course 'his country' and there were many memories from the times we spent there together.
I still don't care to come into a empty house, still always expecting to hear his voice calling me. I am sure you are making good progress from reading your posts. I believe I am getting on well with my life too and accepting things as they are now, trusting in the Almighty to guide me and this has given me much peace. I wish you peace also.
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