Dwelling

I was dwelling within the depths of my loneliness and loss and felt the urge to write...and so here I am.  Sometimes the heart doesn't say what to write, just that it must be done.  At least that is the way insipration works for me.  But I have been dwelling for the last hour or so; I have this ominous feeling that my wife will be here any moment.  It is a terrible torment to have to suffer through because I KNOW I will never see her again but that  feeling is a whole other matter.  Feelings are dastardly things that can return great pleasure but also great pain.  Feelings have a manic way about them, jumping from one moment to the next without a trail or logic and us as subjects in this reality are left there exposed to let these things wash over us; to drown us!  I felt great love for Her.  She was a goddess. Life just is not the same without Her there to lead me, to make this wicked reality meaningful once more.  Things that I used to do--things that we did together--that use to sustain my desires, the dainty pleasures that one partakes in and indulges upon are now as if ash in my mouth.  They taste of a bitterness I have yet to be courageous enough to confront.  I loved Seattle.  A town I had lived in and loved with Her--my greatest of all Loves--and now when I gaze upon my memories the meeker descriptions make me think apt to iterate nausea as the least offensive description of this torrid feeling; like that of posing to make that leap over a cliff and then never leaping.  That is my Sisyphean task, my boulder I must push.  But for how long?  Mourning ends?  God I hope it to end but then I think that of the source!  The source of this is Her and She is gone...gone forever.  And with that deduction I lose all hope.  I fathom a future of misery, despair and loneliness that never ebbs but floats around me as if the ash of her fire smothered out and forever to float within my vision as a badge of fact that I cannot forget Her and I never will and it is because I cannot and that I never will that I am damned to be exposed to this world bereft of my Love and in that my purpose.  Woe is me.

Until next time...

Mourning is just Drowning Forever

Helplessness is like the feeling of drowning without the catharsis of death.  When you drown you do eventually die but this helpless flailing of despair and mourning does not end but will go on. There will be no last breath as a requiem for this suffering, no funeral for the corpse…just endless helpless suffering.  I miss my wife so much.  I mourn every moment of every day, every turn of my head leads my eyes to the corner of my vision as perhaps She is on the precipice, that hope is still there.  When I walk through my living room my eyes reflexively draw to where She used to sit, the impressions of Her slender figure are still there in the couch.  Every once in a while I can bear to comprehend Her loss and I am troubled with the idea that the penumbra of Her body upon that couch is now more real than her presence.  Ahhhhhh!  Can you imagine such torment?  Can you!?  It is nearing to the unbearable but for my sacred wonder with being the one left behind in life.  Life is so wondrous and magnificent; and I do not account for my misery by its existence.  Life goes on despite misery and tragedy and always has; I can accept that.  Even without Her I draw from this wondrous world.  I read sad stories and consider sad things and even within their sorrow there is still wonder there.  I can still feel pleasure, happiness breaks the clouds of my misery every so often and I am blessed with forgetting my miserable station but I do not lie to myself as I know that much suffering is still mine to have and will be there whether I wish to have it or not.  I have no control.

Today I looked at my phone.  What a pathetic entry into the annals of mourning.  No?  I looked at my phone and the despair, it washed over me.  I began drowning.  Why such a mundane act could lead to such hell is because my mind had forgotten a present reality.  And so I looked, I looked at that damn fucking phone, to see if my Beloved had texted me.  She would always text me throughout the day.  I have them all too.  I have the texts going back for years.  I am sure I will enjoy them later in the journey for this loss but I am glad they are there.  I cannot bear to look, but to know is comforting; I take all the comfort I can get because I am an inherently uncomfortable person.  I am not comfortable unless I am with Her.  She is what comforted me and now I am un-comfortable.  Will I ever be again?  Only providence will deliver to me this answer.  Providence is a bitch.

~the saddest man on earth

Amputate this Sorrow!

When CS Louis lost his wife, that is how he curtly described this feeling of losing the ONE person that you are closest to:  "Amputation!"  So much of Her was a part of me too, and I have no choice but to mourn that part of me as I will have to let it go.  I literally have no choice for She is gone and forever destined to have influence only as memory--the past tense.  MY GOD!  Just considering THAT, how it hurts my insides; no reality have I ever wanted more to not be so.  No thing in my life is such as this, I have not felt this powerlessness in the face of the madness of death or any other life event as it now befalls me.  I curse death.  Hence this terrible tragedy I have felt personally every death I have heard about in some way.  I think of all the loved ones and their pain.  Indeed, it is my pain too and the realization of that empathy is heart breaking down to my marrow.  I love my beloved wife so much.  I miss Her terribly.  I miss Her.  I miss Her.  I miss Her!  Her death, this is the sort of thing I would have talked to Her about.  She would have been the One to console me, to comfort me, and it is because She is the most important thing to me I would have gone to Her.  So fucking tell me?  Who do you go to now? And really, this isn't some fucking normal loss but the loss of everything! My center.  The thing that made reality, it is gone. Will I ever know normal again?  I don't tell most people in my life but really there is this ever present inner horror to this situation.  A horror that is stirred every time I at all consider the magnitude of this loss.  It is just enough to go through the days, day in day out, with the courage to allow everyone else to accept that you are at a place that you really aren't.

"How are you?"...Is possibly the most inappropriate use of the verb 'to be' I have ever encountered.  I understand that people are sympathetic.  That they will expect me to say 'struggling but getting better' or 'okay' but I can tell you this is not true.  I am not fucking okay!  My fucking wife is dead.  DEAD!  WHAT the Fuck!  I wish I could answer like that, but then I make other people feel bad and then I feel even worse.  And really, I am okay when you think about the fact that I am still a functioning human being with a fucking job.  But is that really what passes for 'okay' these days?  Being able to get to the trough?  Not for me!  I want to be fucking happy.  And I was happy.  I was so happy I cannot even articulate how happy I was.  I loved everything about Her.  I loved talking to Her.  15 years and still we could go a 6 hour drive just chatting and not even turn on the radio.  Is that normal?  I get the impression is isn't normal but I didn't fucking even care about a "normal" relationship.  I wanted Her because, I don't know, love and shit.  I was so devoted to Her.  She was the most genuine and kindest person with an honesty that had complexity.  We didn't always agree and sometimes would not get along but those moments were so rare I hope I forget them first!  We always loved each other and were devoted to each other.  I used to tell Her when She was feeling down about Her family that I was Her family--we had no kids.  And when I would have a rough patch with my family I always knew She would be there because Her and I were a family.  Two things one.  How do you divide the indivisible?  And can you still call whats left a man?  Or a wretch?  I fear the latter.

~the saddest man on earth

I miss my wife today

I miss my wife today, which is just another day of this torment.  I miss her so much, every now again my body can trick my mind and I will feel that warmth of when I used to see her driving down the drive way...that moment I would know we would be re-united.  Each and every time I left her the return was a reunion.  I would feel that feeling for a short time until it will, inevitably, ebb into a sea of misery that is my current station.  My life, indeed, is like the tide to that sea moving forward and backward in constant movement never settling but always moving.  My emotions too are floating in this sea, this sea of misery.  I can say one day I am fine but to the next I must throw myself unto the providence of the master of the universe and He will tell me for I feel as though I have no control in this life.  NONE!  With everything I have lost in my life I may still seem rich.  I may have a home and a car.  I may have shelves of books and a lawn to mow--even a TV--but despite all those things I cannot help but feel that all I have is nothing.  The things I cherished have been blown into the wind like the seeds of a dandelion.  I know not where they will land, those seeds, but I do know that I felt that gust that dis-lodged them.  And so while I may have everything that some may dream it is human nature to not realize that the things most precious are not the ones that you can hold in your hand but the things that you can hold within your heart, like that of those you love. And I have loved so much in this world, I have loved loving too.  I have loved and loved without ever conceptualizing the end of things, why focus on ends?  It is the means that are pleasurable to me.  It was Her body and spirit in its presences that indulged, I did not covet her in that way.  Tenderly, I reflect now on whether it was a mistake to not indulge in Her more than I did.  But then could I?  Alas, my life expounds questions upon questions of which the answer will illude and deceive. Happiness itself is illusive, perhaps it is even a memory.  Oh how that thought terrifies me...the end of happiness.  I was so happy with Her.  Everything with Her was my muse, EVERYTHING.  The only--the ONLY--things she could have ever done to hurt me was to stop loving me.  Never did this happen not once.  Not when I was cruel without warrant.  Not when our lives together seemed too much a struggle.  Not when we did not have enough to eat or had to toil over spending 5 or 6 dollars outside out meager budget.  It was with Her that I lived with almost nothing and felt to be the richest of them all for I had Her and she was mine and I was hers.  With each possessing the other there was no need to have anything else and so even as we ate beans and rice and toiled in poverty I felt so rich having been with Her, to survive that struggle with Her, and to emerge from that time together.  My god, what have I lost losing Her...nothing else can seem to matter any longer.  Nothing :( 

~the saddest man on earth

Scattered to the Wind

I have been doing a lot of self reflection lately.  When you spouse dies one cannot help but do so I would suspect.  I have been thinking about now...and then.  Like has my life changed in the last few months.  It truly has.  I have been sheltering myself from this new reality by not thinking about the future.  The future is a scornful bitch at the moment.  Each reflection I have needs to be re-assessed with my emotional amputation.  It is interesting though, when you think about it, how deep the loss of a spouse is inside of the imagination.  It leaves no corner of my consciousnesses unrepetant to that sacred image of my wife.  God how I miss her.  I am truly in agony, but it is the kind of agony that has no cure and no remedial cause. Every moment I sit here and reflect into what She and I would be doing, what would She say, how would She react. Ahhhhh!  God damn these questions because if I answer myself it does not seem as though the answer is real.  Only Her, only Her.  She is my god now and peace be with Her name.  There is no idol of this world that can carry the magnificence of Her existence unto me, there is no totem I can build to Her....for Her.  She is there in my mind, imbued with 15 years of existence with her.  She is within me and all around everything I do but god damn it I cannot talk to Her, I can not see Her, I cannot hear Her voice, Her laugh, Her everything.  The magnitude of my loss is unbearable but for the beauty of life itself.  Life, I am ever reminded, is a gift to be enjoyed just for the fact itself.  I remember when my father was sick with cancer, when he was told his last day is foreseeable, oh how he wrenched with the agony of the knowledge, for life is fit to be loved even if it is miserable some times, it is life, it is ongoing, it can change.  But why is it that it can end?  Fuck endings.  I hate them.  People can tell me that I will see my Dearest--my Love--again and I relish their ignorance.  I can see hearts break, literally, when I say I have seen nothing.  She has not visited me, given me a sign. I do, I swear I do, look for these signs.  God  how I would love an interface with Her.  I peer into the night studying the sounds as if to read them for a sign from Her, wishing, hoping, what is otherwise called praying; but to no avail.  She was torn from me, from my heart, in an instant.  I was told She had died before I knew that was even the question.  A slap!  Ugh!!  That moment is not--too a knot, in my stomach--something to be recollected without feeling it.  Oh well, I thank you internet for listening to me, even if no one else does.  Maybe She is on the internet--her soul--I can hope, but I doubt it....my life with Her was scattered to the wind.

~the saddest man on earth

I've Lost myself

I've lost myself.  It is why I chose the name of the blog.  The self I knew to be my own is now out there floating in a sea of nihilism.  Life passes over me and happens but I do not feel as though I am a part of that, but a spectator.  Indeed, it comforts me to see others going about and doing things as if they did not know the secret that has been revealed to me; that life is pointless and aimless, these people, they do not understand that to go on from now is meaningless.  But these people, the ubiquitous others all around, they do not even know these facts and so their lives go on. I relish their ignorance of my pain, it allows me to escape into that state, but it is always just a temporary relief to an ongoing pain that will seemingly never end....

~the saddest man on earth

My Wife is Dead

My god what horrible news.  Terrible news.  Even though I have heard it said to me, even though it was real, it is surreal to remember back to that moment, as if it didn't happen at all; but it has happened and it is my bane.  A miserable reality that I not only have to live through, but I have to endure as well, because each moment seems to drag on to the next with no point, an ongoing and gnawing emotional pain.  Depression, too, is new to me and I don't particularly like it.  Prior to this nightmare I was pretty much always happy and never sad.  I looked forward to each day and I especially looked forward to spending it with such a deep deep love as I have had.  What a chasm this has left inside of me.  I ponder sometimes how long this horrid feeling will go on.  How long am I cursed to feel THIS.....

Yes, I cannot even articulate it without frightening myself.  Without fearing I am going down some literary expression that might reveal to me an even deeper misery and realization that heretofore had escaped me like a blessing in waiting to curse at me later.  No, I am not on these stupid "anti"depressive drugs.  Terrible things lead to great pain.  Pain exists and I am willing to give that providence to this life that it is the pain we must endure in order for us to feel whole once more.  It is a wicked thing to not feel whole.  I really mean it when I say it, "I do not feel whole"--this is real to me.  But I am still alive, I have no physical pain, I can not see this hole, the missing piece, and I doubt anyone else can, but it is there nonetheless, grinding on, some days bigger some days smaller but always there...grinding.  God Damn the grinding!

My love, we were so close.  I had met her and started dating her when I was nineteen.  A fucking teenager! and at once I was enamored with her and she with I--for some reason she was enamored with me.  We were inseparable.  We moved in together and became even more inseparable.  Being around her lifted my spirits.  I enjoyed her cynicism and she endured my tendency to be critical of things and I made her happy.  And our life together wasn't long when my dad, who she had lived with for a year in High School, died of cancer.  Fuck my life, right?  But it was her that held me on track and gave me a semblance of meaning to look forward to.  I looked forward to waking up and first seeing her and being in that state of warmth in bed where you just don't want to get out; like it would be a sin, or it would ruin that perfection, that happy state of comfort, when you are with your loved one and close.  God I miss that.  My love, she loved to sleep.  But even as close as we were we ended up going to school together and then, even for a time, we worked together.  For some people that would be too much but I was lucky, luckier then most to my estimation, because this wonderful person was my best fucking friend in the whole god damn world.  I could, and did, spend hours and hours with her alone, just her and I, talking about everything, living together.  We lived in a very rural area and her and I would go days with it being JUST the two of us and never once did I resent that circumstance for I forever was indulged in her essence and just loved to be around it.

But it is fucking gone!  She is fucking gone!  Several months now I have been alone.  I mean, I have been around many people and I am so grateful for all the support that everyone has given me but the problem for me is if I am not with Her, well, I might as well be alone.  At least, I feel alone, an eternal torment of mine.  A loneliness that is not satiated by the presence of others but ONLY by that of a presence of a beautiful soul that is lost unto the ether of the universe.  She is impossible to be with and therefore I am doomed to feel lonely forever?  I hope this is just me being dramatic but it feels this way now, in the future I have hope.

And that is another problem with this whole fucking dead wife thing and that is I am an atheist. I will not see my love again.  She is gone.  Gone forever.  What a terrifying thing, I do have the wonderful memories.  Their wonder--the memories--they haunt me.  I can remember being happy, at one time.  Will I be again?  I cannot say.  I can see myself finding another muse such as that deepest of love.  I can see myself loving them as much as I loved my dearest but I know for a fact that I could not EVER love anyone more than I loved her for a feeling as powerful as that would eclipse my soul and i would cease at once to exist.  It is not possible, this love I had for her, it is not possible for it to be greater, it was the end of road for the feeling itself, the highest pinnacle of its being was embodied between that of her and I. Such a sacred connection cannot be articulated without blaspheming its beauty within my memories...the only thing I have left.

Fuck my life, for now

~the saddest man on earth