It Is What It Is

I’m not cured of this feeling, nor do I expect to be anytime soon. It’s a feeling of amputation, emptiness, singularness, and a deep down to my bones, quiet and shocking grief.

“Helping” authors speak these words and yet not one experience can be counted on. 

That’s why I shy away from stages, steps and books that talk about normal patterns, because they mean nothing to me.

They mean nothing in the same way my kid’s behavior could never be matched in child development books.

I do love true stories though, and connect with every wrenching breath, every honest word that brings feelings of connection and in some cases, shared experience. 

I have traveled a few short distances this month and it’s still shocking to a degree, both the leaving and returning. To find no one waiting to hear my stories or have any remote interest while I decompress. 

I would share everything with Alan, and he came to accept my chattiness and my observant and feeling self.

Every now and then, I’ll say something to my kids that is so internal and yet close to the surface, and most times there is no audible response.  A quiet shuffling of feet, maybe.

For example: “I can’t believe how sweet little Joaquin’s baby hands feel on my skin. His touch is such a gift these days. “ 

Words released to the wind.

Alan died almost a year ago, the anniversary is October 17th.

I am doing well enough and yet mostly, it’s all such a surprise. I hear one’s grief is matched by the measure of their love.

My marriage to Alan was real and complicated, not an unusual thing. And yet we were partners and there was enormous love and shared purpose.

I am committed to staying with the experience and changing with it, and letting it have its way.

In some ways, returning to the 23-year-old girl and remembering her, is part of my work.  

Developing as an artist, writer, grandmother, and “widow” is what’s before me.

I joined a Grief Group on Facebook and so far, haven’t posted anything.

Most everyone is living in deep despair and wishes for their loved one to return, for things to return to normal.

I don’t feel that way.

Alan had dementia that was worsening, and I consider his leaving so quickly a gift, to him. He was already disturbed by his failing memory and abilities and that was the worst thing.

I consider this next chapter so important and another calling, of sorts.

 Gratitude as an observer and participant, is what I feel.

It’s all magic.

And that’s why I‘m here…

With love,

Marylou

“whisper”

There is Beauty in a snowy day, just as there is fear in the same snowy day. The difference is merely what you choose to see and the story you tell.

The Beauty is always there.

The fear is there when you push or place force in a direction that is not in harmony with that moment.

When this happens, simply pause and see beauty.

This awareness will keep you from moving in fear, worry and with an anxious heart.”

10 thoughts on “It Is What It Is”

  1. As I always am, here for you to support, learning important lessons by your truthful sharing, and holding you in my heart ❤️ ♥️♥️♥️💐💐💐. Love for all of us
    Cindy

  2. You addressa beautiful inspiration. BeverLi

    Sent from my Verizon, Samsung Galaxy smartphone Get Outlook for Android ________________________________

  3. I love your post. We have so many similarities. I identify whole heartedly. I just don’t want to write today. Hugs

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