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