One Year hence I last spoke of this...

I can see that the date was October the 15th and that I was very sad.  Today I am also sad.  One year has passed since I last spoke and here I am suffering from an insatiable loneliness.  I curse loneliness. But I fear that my loss has created a defect in loneliness such that even when I am not alone I still feel deeply lonely.  I have a list of things that have happened to me since that horrible day, a list of things to tell her. I suppose that I can forget this list but I can't help but ignore that futility just so that I can perform that task which I had repeated countless times with her.  We would always talk about our days.  I marvelled at how she wove such beautiful stories.  She was a born story teller and I love stories.  She could encapsulate dialog to the extent that you felt like you were there.  There were people in her life that she would speak of and of which I felt like I literally knew though I had never met.  As smart and eloquent as people perceive me to be I cannot do this simple thing of which she was so talented.  Yes, I marvelled at her for that.  Indeed, it was like living two lives.  My own, of course, and then the one she told be about--hers--which was so detailed and elaborate it was nearly the picture in my minds-eye as if I had been there myself.  I found such beauty and energy within her for this.  She never gave herself credit and actually she believed herself to be some what of a "dumbass," as she would have put it; oh but she wasn't.  I do not know if this is the case for other mourners but I can bring myself to tears just by thinking of certain things about her and our life together.  I miss her so much.  I do not want to detract from others' relationship with their own significant other but, for the most part, I rarely see two people that connected like we did.  I needed no private time, I did not have a "mancave," I didn't have bros in order to escape from our relationship; no, every moment with her was like perfect.  Even when she was alive I didn't feel as though I had a place in this world.  Every where I went was wrong lest I was holding her hand.  She was my bro.  My best friend, my everything.  Tears run down my face now just thinking of this.

I truly mourn that we never had any children.  Every other couple I have ever seen deal with this widow bullshit the one left behind had semblances of their love in their family.  While I think it would have been terrible to face losing her AND dealing with our children.  Having lost my own dad at a young age I can say that it is terrible to lose your parent.  And, again, I was closer to my dad than anyone, to the point that I didn't even really have any friends except for him, just like I was so very close to her.  Counting my dad I have lost 3 best friends.  And while I do regret feeling this, I secretly despise people that have had the ones they love for scores and scores of years.  My mom's boyfriend still has both his fucking parents.  Truly, I do not trust people that have not suffered loss.  I think that if one's character gets to old age without learning those lessons that are wrought through misery, I do not trust you and I reserve that right.  If you've been married for 50 years, just keep it to your fucking self, I cannot stand you showboats.  Just the thought of having lived that many years with her, my deepest of love, it makes my knees weak.  It makes my tears run!  It makes my heart weep!  Unfetter me from your undisturbed happiness--is what I would say.  How can deep love be understood on easy street? I don't think it can.  Perhaps I am just seething my own resentment for the fact that I no longer have anyone (though I am looking for a new love) but a 50 year marriage that has never been put to trial is as valuable as the 2 year marriage that is put to trial and collapses.  These marriages are ostensibly the same but for the fact that one was tested.

My love and I were tested in many ways.  Perhaps the deepest test was abject poverty.  Her and I, we lived in Seattle for many years and there wasn't a single year that our joint return was over 20k.  Now consider that and consider the fact that we lived in capitol hill and the u-district.  These are not cheap places to live.  I was not the best-looking partner but she was.  She was propositioned often by other men, a lot of those times were right in front of me.  My wife, she was beautiful.  Even though there were a plethora of suitors with bigger bank accounts that promised lives filled with material luxuries, not once did I ever feel threatened by any of the hucksters because I knew!  I knew that when she said she loved me it was the truth and I never doubted.  We both struggled with health issues and both sacrificed to go to school.  When she was diagnosed a manic depressive and it was likely that she never would be able to actually use her masters degree that she had struggled for so long to attain, that was something we also survived...together.  We were so tightly bound within each other that to this day, a year and 5 months later, my inner-self still expects to see the lights on in the house when I come home and to see someone sitting there in the livingroom counting minutes until I got home so that we can drink from each other's soul.  So that we may be in that heavenly destination of togetherness; it breaks my heart to think that I will never be with her again in that manner, but only in spirit.  I do take solace in that my memories with her are the most valuable thing I have and they are something that can never be ceased or abridged.  I will cherish them forever.  I will make those memories mean something more than the great deal they mean already.  They will be the largest and most vast memorial to ever account for another and they will be within me forever until I die and there isn't a moment that won't basque in them.  Indeed, without them  life would be hopeless.  I miss you my love.  Peace be with you!

~the saddest many on eaarth

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