There is a certain amount of taming that goes on, after one’s spouse dies. There are no rules written for appropriate behavior when you’ve been broken from the inside, in an invisible sort of way.
Cracked open, cracked inward, cracked like crazy old paint bottles, or sunburned skin that hasn’t breathed enough air.
Bags under eyes, a shaky hand maybe, weight loss or gain may be noticed and summed up, but there is so much taming going on too, if you look closely.
Serious taming, like Lion taming.
Taming feelings of separateness and isolation and now you’re called “Widow.”
Taming words and tears and the strong desire for chocolate, salty things, and red wine too.
Taming stories, Battle Fatigue, and memories so real, they just happened yesterday.
Taming predictions for the future… and resolutions from the past.
Courageous stuff, to be sure.
The mornings are cooler here in Grass Valley and the leaves are changing too… yet I talk about nephrostomy tubes and catheters, and how Alan would wake to watch MSNBC from our balcony overlooking East Main St and the Brewery, late into the night.
The changing seasons are bookmarks and often seem interchangeable like Oncologists and Pumpkins. Thanksgiving and the Radiology lab. A new Grandbaby and Goodbyes. They overlap now.
There is a season for everything, for taming and un-taming
That’s what I long for as I build my singular life. My Heart says not so much taming and responsibility, not so much seriousness. Not so much to do.
I’d like to be unpredictable… in small ways at first.
It will take a certain amount of finesse and
I don’t want to scare anyone, you know.
Here’s a “whisper” for you…
The timing of the entrances and exits of people, places and things is not accidental. When you understand this truth and become awake to it, the joys will become more vibrant and the challenges become more meaningful.
And so we go, with love,