Are You Sad?

Last night was a nice evening. My son and I arrived home from our day at work and school a bit early, which made the evening feel less rushed than usual. Abel was there, and had done some cleaning, which made me smile. After checking in with the my daughter, her boyfriend, and a visiting friend, I went to my bedroom to have a bit of quiet time with Abel.

Those of you who are parents know there isn't too much quiet time when arriving home from work. There is homework to be supervised, dinner to be made, mail to be read, and whatever chores you had planned. While my son was at the table doing some reading, my daughter, Abel and I were busy getting dinner started. In between checking on the food I was running outdoors installing more landscape lighting which needs to be done in the dark to know what I want to highlight.

At some point I came back into the house, finished preparing dinner, then sat with my family to eat. When we were done there was the usual kitchen clean up, then back to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes. It was at that point that Abel asked, "are you feeling sad?"

My children know my moods very well. They are also very protective of me since Michael died. They have seen me at my worst, especially those early days when I would be down on the ground crying with no end. Those severe days of grieving are far behind me, but what continues are the various layers that continue to be experienced. Sometimes those days of sadness are clear to me, and I can pin point the reason. Other times my sadness goes unrecognized by me or others. Yet, my sadness is always clear to my children.

No dear, why are you asking if I am sad?

"Arianne said you looked sad tonight."

I responded that I just had many things on my mind, and was likely preoccupied with many concerns. I told Abel not to worry, yet he still put his arms around me to show that he cared, and that I had someone there to support me.

What came to mind wasn't whether or not I was truly sad, but how much all this loss has affected each of us. Driving home yesterday my son Remy was talking about how the kids as school joke about things. He said they often play a game where they call out that someone has died. Remy said that while he gets that they are just playing, and that they obviously have not been touched so closely by death. He said that if they knew what it was like to have their father die they would be less likely to find this type of humor funny.

Death has greatly impacted my family. Death has brought each of us a deeper sorrow than we had ever experienced before, even through the death of many extended family members. When death comes to your door, and takes someone from their bed at home, you are never quite the same.

I don't think I was sad. I think my daughter recognized a pattern of behavioral responses by me, and attributed them to sadness. I believe it will take some time before my kids see me with a host of expressions and moods, and not connect them to grief. Loss has been with our family since my children's birth mother was taken away by circumstance, and then by death. Loss has been with us since Michael was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and then by death.

Loss is being experienced by us with a new person in my life, who is now sharing a space in my heart with Michael. Yes, even with the joy that Abel brings me I am always aware that his presence is because Michael was taken. Even though the kids see how happy Abel makes me, they experience loss by seeing a new man occupy the space in our lives that Michael used to occupy.

No, today I am not sad.

Love. Life. & Grief.

Interesting, I was just reading through this week's post entries on Widow's Voice. There seems to be a running discussion about dating, a bit of man bashing (I mean that mildly, and with humor) and the usual check In's with the various writers that fill the week. What I recognize is something that has been on my mind lately, and something that one person left a comment about today.

What happens when that which brought us widowed together starts to change?

The comment I'm referring to was about having to always deal with seeing, or reading about, couples everyday. Then suddenly it is all that rave on Widow's Voice as well. I kind of agree with the person who left the comment. I am one of those people that really didn't want to see, or hear, about coupled people more than I really needed to. It hurt so much more to see happy couples move about the world. For so long I tended to separate those who were coupled, with those who were widowed. Those who were just plain single were neutral, and didn't garner too much notice by my grief-o-meter.

Whenever I go on Facebook, or receive a new friend request, the first thing I look at is the relationship status. If they are widowed I feel immediately connected to them, even if I don't know them. If they are coupled, I then take a deep breath before taking a look at their page, and prepare myself to see photos of their seemingly happy life. For some time I even hesitated about changing my own status on Facebook, and hesitated to post any photos of me and Abel. It wasn't just because I didn't want to give up my widowed status out of concern for my relationship with Michael, it was also out of concern with my relationship with all my widowed friends.

I recognize that for the time being, I travel in both worlds, the land of the widowed, and the land of the coupled. I suppose I will always travel in both worlds, as I am learning, having a new relationship in no way buffers the ongoing pain and loss that I feel about Michael. What's odd is that the closer, and stronger, I feel toward Abel, the more intense my grief tends to feel. Now at just over two years out I am not grieving with the same intensity of the initial two years, yet it is always there. So for those that read about my movement through a new relationship, or see a status change in my profile, know that what brought us together continues to bind us. Yet at the same time, I recognize it is something that also puts me into the other category.

I have been wondering if my role on Widow's Voice should be given to someone at an earlier place in their grieving, as I fear that those to seek support there are finding mostly veterans at this point. So many of us have been working through this for quite some time now, and what we write about, or what I write about, is less likely to be as raw, or immediate, than many of our readers might be looking for.

So, for the person who left the comment there expressing his/her discomfort in having to "see" couples, even on Widow's Voice, I completely understand and feel for you. It's what I continue to feel, even as I am involved in a new relationship. For those that come here to read, please know that I am always aware that what I share, or discuss, might begin to separate us into different categories. I get that. When I first began writing I wondered who would come here to read about a gay widower. I found that many chose to come here to read about...me. Are most of my readers widowed? Probably. Are most of my readers gay? Not really. Are most of my readers men? Not so much either. So what I have are people that come here for a common understanding of a similar path we travel on. Some may have arrived at an early place in my journey, some may arrive later.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I only know that for now, I will continue to experience it, and write about it when it feels right. As my blog title says, "Dan in real time - a gay man's journey through love, life and grief." It's all here.

Love.

Life.

Grief.

TMI

So, as the title warns you, this post may leave a few of you saying, too much information Dan!

Oh well, you are here, so read on...

There is something that used to happen to me when Michael and I were being intimate. Not something throughout being intimate, but at the conclusion of being intimate. Well, let me back up a bit.

Prior to Michael getting sick, or having that huge tumor removed from his head, we enjoyed a very active and satisfying sex life. We were a fairly new couple, and had yet to hit that point where it all felt old hat. So when we began to recover from the shock of his emergency surgery, and had returned back home, we knew that life would never be the same. Michael felt like his situation would now deprive me of something I greatly enjoy, something most of us adults greatly enjoy.

Sex.

For a long time we had no sex life. He was recovering, I was grieving the loss of our future, and was spending night and day taking care of him. It felt like that part of our relationship was over, and that the type of closeness one feels with sexual intimacy had been robbed from us. Well, I can't exactly say what Michael was feeling, but for myself, I felt that it was over.

Anyway, time moved forward, and then one day we both looked at each other and knew that it was time to try again. We started out slow, and there was a purposeful approach in our attempt to reignite the flame of passion. By the time we reach the end of our love-making I was in tears. I was completely overwhelmed by the satisfaction I was receiving, both physically and emotionally.

For quite some time there after, I would consistently end our sexual encounters in tears. We both came to expect it, and were both very comfortable with it.

Being in a new relationship has been both wonderful, and emotionally draining. It is bringing up so many mixed emotions, as most of you would expect. It seems that the closer I get to Abel, and the further I fall into love, the more emotional I become, to the point of feeling distracted from what is really happening around me. Abel has noticed this, and has been checking in with me, wanting me to know that he is there for me, and that I can talk about anything.

Last night was one of those nights. We only get to see each other about once or twice a week, and I was looking forward to him spending the night with me. We spent most of the evening discussing my emotions, and what we needed from our relationship. He could tell that I was filled with worry, and that I was feeling a bit sad. Without a doubt, I have entered a new phase in my grieving process, one that is likely spurred on by finding new love.

In spite of my mood, Abel was gently bringing me closer to him, and wanting me to experience pleasure in our time together. He was patient, and he was being very attentive to my needs. In the end, for the first time in a long time, I ended up in tears. At first I tried to hold them back, which was quite obvious to Abel. He held me in his arms and told me that there was no need to hold anything back with him. I took a deep breath, and told him I would be okay. He looked me in the eyes, pulled me even closer, and told me it was okay to keep loving Michael, and that it was okay to say and feel anything around him.

Well, with that the flood of tear began overflowing. I laid there in the arms of someone who loves me, while I continued to grieve the loss of Michael, while feeling the joy of being brought to ecstasy once again through passionate love. It was both draining and amazing. I explained to Abel the tears of my past love making. I explained to him how difficult it was to lose the man I loved, and not have him there to hold me through the night. To not have anyone there to hold me through the night.

Things have changed for me. Last night I had some one's arms around me. This morning I awoke with some one's arms around me. I let Abel know that Michael must love the hell out of him. Michael would be so pleased to know that someone has come into my life. He would be pleased to know that this someone is quite selfless, and is more than happy, perhaps even proud, to share my heart with Michael.

Too much information? Well, not for Abel. He wants to know it all.

Knocked Back Down, Momentarily.

Knocked back down to my knees.

Momentarily.

I was checking out Facebook earlier, as I like to see who is celebrating their birthday. Today was the birthday of one of Michael's best friends, so I went to her page. While there I decided to check out her photos, and didn't prepare myself for what I might see. It was the photos since Michael's death that hit me, and hit me hard.

I got through our two year wedding anniversary really well last week. I had the loving support of my kids, and of Abel. I had a quiet evening, but a peaceful one. Today, looking at photos of Michael's friends spending time together during the past couple of years was very hard to look at. I suppose it was just a harsh reminder of how much time has passed since he's been gone. I think I incorporate my daily life, my life without him, and it all is beginning to feel more comfortable. Yet, I don't often think about how much his presence is missing in the rest of the world.

Immediately after looking at the photos, and making a casual comment to my daughter about them, I realized that the dark bile of grief was working it's way up my throat. I went into my bedroom, and was knocked to my knees. I haven't felt this level of pain in such a long time. It was cutting me from every side of my being. From within, and from without. I couldn't find comfort laying on my bed, so I did as I usually do. I lit the candles that sit along side his urn, got out my meditation pillow, and sat there before the glowing warmth of the candle light. For comfort I reached out for the pocket watch he gave me five months before his death. It was supposed to remind me of the beating of his heart, yet in the two years that have passed, the battery had died. I sat there on the floor, with a dead pocket watch, crying over my dead husband.

How pathetic.

I must have released a shitload of stored up grief, because it went on and on. As I sat there I felt the need to connect to him physically once again. I didn't want something that used to belong to him, I wanted him. I know this may be morbid to some, yet I know what I need from time to time. I went to his urn, opened the lid, and reached in.

My fingers grazed across the jagged mixture of bone and dust. I opened a small bag that I keep separate from the rest. I let my fingers dig deep, and to feel his ashes in between my fingers. I ran this dust, his ashes, across my hand, and then laid back down on the floor. I laid there, physically connected, spiritually reaching out, and waited for a sense of healing. I wanted so badly to have him reach back out to me. I waited, then waited some more.

I soon began thinking of Abel. I thought about the many times I have found myself lying in his arms. I took that feeling, and mixed it up with Michael's embrace. I laid there on the floor for a very long time, and realized that I was likely missing Abel's nightly call during his break at work. I reminded myself that someone cares about me. Someone cares about me out there in that place I have no real knowledge of. Someone cares about me here in my current world as well.

I feel such comfort knowing that I have Michael so close to me. All I have to do is reach out for him and he is there. I also feel such comfort knowing that I have someone, Abel, who is willing to listen to my stories of Michael whenever I need to speak.

Just a minute ago Abel did call. I took a break from writing, and he could hear something in my voice. He asked, I shared, and he reassured me that if he were here there would be a great big hug for me. I'm feeling so much better now. I am feeling like I am back on my feet, and okay with continuing on my journey.

Funny how there is no conflict between my two loves. They coexist, and I am at peace.

To Be Happy Once Again

Well, yesterday was a step into the next phase of my relationship with Abel, and the beginning of my family getting used to seeing me with another man.

It was the occasion of my niece and her husband baptizing their newborn baby boy. I drove up with two of my kids, and a new person at my side. It was not a surprise to them, as I had broken the news of this new relationship with them one week ago. Each of them were surprised to learn that I had been dating, and that I had chosen not to share the news with them for well over a month.

I let my family know that I needed some time to feel secure in being part of a new twosome before having to deal with the looks of confused emotion on their part. My family loved Michael, and they, like me, continue to grieve his absence from their lives.

Abel himself was a nervous wreck. I suppose it's always a big occasion when the new love gets introduced to the extended family members, and he wasn't quite sure how he would be received. He knew that my family had grown used to seeing me either as Michael's husband, or later, as Michael's widower. For the past two years they grew used to seeing me in a continued somber state of mind and emotion.

Once at the house, most of Abel's concerns began to melt away. My brothers and parents were very gracious in introducing themselves to him, and each spent some time getting to know him and wanting him to feel comfortable in their presence. At one point Abel leaned over to me and pointed out that my mother kept glancing our way. I reminded him that this is the first time that she has seen me with another man. It has to be both pleasing and bittersweet. Around this time my mother told me that my decision to move to San Diego has been the best choice I made for myself. She reminded me that I now have "a lovely home, a good job," and looking at Abel, then back at me, she said, "and now you have this."

On the long drive back to San Diego from our day in Thousand Oaks, I received a text from my older brother telling me that his day was great. Among those events that made his day was seeing me happy again. After reading the text to everyone in the car, my kids both chimed in, saying "Abel, we are so happy that you and my dad are dating."

Oh, to be happy once again.

Love to Love You Baby!

I had a wonderful love.

I had the opportunity to love Michael for the rest of his life.

It didn't really matter how long we loved.

It mattered more that we loved.

I learned much about myself by loving Michael.

I learned much about love by being loved by Michael.

I am now able to trust love.

I am now able to love again.

Michael, I love to love you baby.

Bedroom Conversations

Funny how lying on a bed can bring about soul searching, or heart wrenching, conversations. My bed is no different. It has been host to many discussions in the past, and continues to host myself, and various people I love, as we explore our intimate thoughts and feelings.

Earlier, after coming home from work, and getting out of my work duds, I was lying alone on my bed, looking at Michael's urn, and feeling a variety of feelings. I wanted to smile, and I felt like crying. I'm in a good place right now, and yet my grieving continues. As I began to bury my face into the pillow, and allow myself to give up control, there was a knock at my door. It was my 13 year old son, who asked if he could lay on my bed with me. We lay there, in silence, with my arm across his body.

"Dad, can we talk?"

Yes, Remy, whatever you want to talk about.

He wanted to talk about my developing relationship with this new man in my life. He expressed, as well as a 13 year old boy can, how conflicted he feels about how quickly things appear to be moving for this person and me. He said that it is clear that I am happy, and he is happy for me, but what must Michael be feeling right now? Before I could answer, he said that he knows that Michael would be very happy for me, because Remy knows that Michael wanted me to be happy, and to love again. Yet, Remy wanted to know, "Don't you think Michael might be just a little bit mad?"

It's been two years, two very long years. And yet, it also feels like it just happened yesterday. In the two years that Michael lived with his death sentence he would speak of my next boyfriend, and what my life might be like. I would ask him not to talk like that, but he never would stop. He was very clear with me. He wouldn't be happy, if he knew that I wasn't happy. He wanted to die knowing that I would find love and happiness once more. He believed that I deserved that.

One day, long ago, my older son Dante was having a conversation with Michael. He told Michael that he worried that I wouldn't survive after Michael died. Michael told him, in his usual humorous way, that he certainly hoped that I would be heart-broken, and that I would miss him, but that he had no doubt that I would survive. After all, Michael was there with me when I went through many a trial in raising my kids.

Today, while lying there with Remy, I reminded him that we are all so capable of loving. I love him with all my heart. I love his brother and sister with all my heart. I love Michael with all my heart. And, I can love someone new with all my heart.

One love does not negate another.

Tonight, lying in my bed, I spoke with this new person in my life, his name is Abel, and we too spoke of Michael, of Remy, of Dante, and of Arianne. We spoke of my journey as a widower. We spoke of my heart-break and healing. We spoke of the time needed to grow into love, and we spoke of how we can carefully navigate all this while being mindful of younger minds and hearts.

This has become a part of my nightly ritual. The nine o'clock hour arrives, I pick up the phone, I call him, we talk, we listen, we laugh, and we smile.

I have the ashes of my husband to my right, and I have the voice of a new love interest to my left. Is this balance? Is this chaos? Is this right? Is this wrong? Will it last? Will it not? Will I be happy? Will I be sad?

There are no easy answers, but then, I'm not looking for easy answers. I'm looking, and planning on, more work ahead. I'm expecting struggle, and I'm expecting ease. My life is a journey that I often have little control of. At this point in my life, I no longer seek to control it. I choose to experience it, and to embrace as much of it as possible as it unveils itself to me.

I consider myself gifted by this new person in my life. I am experiencing hope once again. I'm feeling like I have much to offer, and I feel like someone is extending a gentle hand my way.

After an hour of intimate conversation, it was time to say goodnight. There was a longing there, which we both verbalized. It gave me a feeling of anticipation when I will have this person before me once again. I rolled over on my bed, and looked up into the brightly lit night. I thanked Michael for his love. I thanked Abel for his open heart. And, I smiled.

Humble Growth

Calm from the storm. It always happens. And, that is what I experienced today. It's been a heavy few days, or more like a week. Yesterday I was overwhelmed by all the support I received, and then today came around, and I was met with even more.

I can't go through such a time without counting my blessings. Yes, even me, that guy who is so angry at God, can count his blessings, and acknowledge that I really don't have a clue why all of life's ups and down occur, yet they do. Of course when we are down we have a tendency to take it personally, how could we not? And when we are up, well, I'm not exactly up yet, but I have been lifted higher by all of your support than where I would be today without it. Now that was a long sentence!

Today I couldn't help but notice how different I felt on this day, this year, as opposed to last. Part of me doesn't exactly remember how connected I was feeling to the outside world a year ago today, as my existence was a bit different at the time. I wasn't working, and I had only been in San Diego a few short months, so I was feeling a bit disconnected from the world at large. This year, my circle of widowed friends has grown. Those that have been with me from the beginning are still there. This year I saw old friends and family members reaching out to me. This year I have a whole network of new friends here in San Diego, that took the time to figuratively stand beside me, and check on me throughout the day.

Did I not have all this last year? Likely I did. I'm finding that with each day that passes, my ability to acknowledge my needs, and to ask for support, is growing. This is definitely not where I was last year, so in spite of the painful days that led up to all this support, it was definitely worth the lesson learned.

Humbly, I thank each of you, my community, for helping me to grow.

Doubled Over

It feels like day one. It hit me as I turned out the lights tonight. I feel so alone in my pain. Why does it still hurt so much?

I feel desperate, like I have a hunger, but nothing to feed me. I need something to hold onto, but what?

I looked around the room, tried to think of something of his, something that will soothe me. Nothing will. Why even try?

I need to see his smile. I need to feel his embrace. Why is this happening all over again?

There's nothing to hold onto. No one to turn to. Nothing that can take the place of what I need. Him.

It feels so unfair. I still don't understand why this had to happen. Why him? He was such a sweet and loving man. He gave me so much. I loved him so much.

I don't want to sleep. I don't want to feel this. I don't want to feel anything any more. Something needs to happen to distract me. Something needs to pull me back out from this abyss. I can't help but feel like I'm being punished. But for what? Why was my happiness cut short, yet others get to live out their happiness year after year? Why must I have to be witness to what others are given, and somehow feel gratitude for what I had?

Fair? Why do others always thank God for what they have? Why do they thank God for all the blessings bestowed upon them? Why do they feel like they are being rewarded for something they have done? What the fuck did I do wrong? If they get to sit and praise God for all their blessings, then what the hell am I supposed to be saying to God at this moment?

Where is all this anger coming from? I wish I knew what lies on the other side. I wish I truly knew if there was another side. Where did Michael go? If he went somewhere else, does he even remember me? He often said he would miss me after he died.

Do you miss me Michael?

Do you know that I am still here?

Are you crying with me? Or are you in bliss?

I wouldn't want to you feel this. I wouldn't want you to worry. I wouldn't want you to be anything but happy. Look into my heart and feel my love. You don't have to take care of me. I'll be just fine. You know I will.

Talk Talk

So I was having lunch today with friends from work. There's a group of us that try to get out for lunch as often as possible. I really enjoy these outings, as it is always nice to have some adult conversation now and then.

I'm finding that I am far more extroverted than usual when out. I've always been a fairly open book as far as my life goes, but in getting together with friends, I'm finding that I rarely use a filter these days. Sometimes I can go a bit too far in my humor, then step back and wonder why I am doing this. Often times my humor is sexual in nature, which is mostly received with a collective good sense of humor in return. Yet it all makes me wonder why I am doing this?

Which brings me to another topic. Friends reading my blog. I think there is a generalized perspective that bloggers are hungry for attention. That we have a need to share everything with the world, and thus publish our every thought and experience. Of course by nature of this post, I suppose part of that is true. Yet in my defense, I didn't start out with this in mind. At least I didn't consciously have this agenda.

My blogging beginnings were born out of my need to limit the direct responses that Michael and I were having to respond to when he got sick. I began blogging to keep our family and friends up to date regarding his cancer treatment. Along the way I began collecting new friends, who were mostly other caregivers whose loved one also had a brain tumor. Anyway, it was after Michael's death that I realized that I then had a need to blog for myself.

That blog, which is the one you are reading, began on our first wedding anniversary. It was my way of keeping sane during a horrific time when my grief was still so raw. In time the whole experience became such a significant part of who I am. I was suddenly part of a community who spanned throughout the world. I made connections that continue to be significant today.

Anyway, along with these new connections, I had my friends and family, who continued to read my daily writings. At first they would contact me, and give me some feedback about my writings, or offer their support. In time they drifted away, as their lives are just as busy as anyone else's. As I have met new people along the way, they learn that I am a blogger, and often then search out my written words.

It is always a surprising realization for me that someone new has taken the time to read my blog. I used to check to see where my readers were from, which gave me an indication if any locals were checking in. With time I have chosen not to look to deep into these details.

So back to my original discussion. While at lunch today, while joking about something, my friend turned to me to joke about my libido. At first I wasn't sure what she meant, then it suddenly hit me, she had read my blog. I found this quite funny, and loved how she used her humor to share it with me. Yet without skipping a beat, she also shared that she found my words quite sad, and how they brought about tears. We discussed this briefly, and what surprised her most was that my written words were so different than how I was presenting myself to our group.

In thinking about all of this, I have to admit that my interactions during the day are significantly different than how I am once at home. I go from being outgoing and jovial, to being quiet and reflective. I go from being overtly sexual in my humor to feeling alone and starved. Is it that lack of touch that is coming out in my humor? I suppose. Is it my need for sexual intimacy? Emotional intimacy? Any kind of intimacy? Intimacy with him that I miss?

Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes.

Well, once again you have a blogger sharing what normal people keep to themselves. You have someone who is talking about subjects that most folks would consider far too revealing. Yet I always come back to the same place. What do I have to lose? Really. I benefit, and others benefit, from my written word. Sometimes it brings up discussions that I would otherwise not have. Keeping all these types of thoughts to myself is far too easy, and only serves to isolate myself further. There are too many of us out here who have suffered a great loss. There are too many of us out here who don't have someone to have these conversations with. So maybe they take the form of sharing too much. Maybe our lack of a significant other at home means that we say things, or express our thoughts and feelings in ways we never would have before.

Maybe we regret that we shared to much. Maybe we have no regrets.

What am I feeling immediately about this?

I think I'll keep it to myself.

Rambling

In the two years that Michael struggled with his tumor, I was part of an online community of caregivers whose loved one had a brain tumor. Most of these caregivers were spouses, yet some were parents. I kept in touch with a few of these people over the years, and followed many of their stories by way of Caring Bridge once I left the online group. Sadly, over the years all but one of those I have followed has lost their loved one.

Part of me was wanting to hold onto hope, to see that someone was actually going to survive this awful disease. Now not all of our loved ones had the same type of tumor, so to be fair, I'm sure some had a better outcome than Michael. Yet, of the those that I kept up with, just one has held on all these years later.

I'm sad to report that he, a young man, has now entered the hospice phase. As I read the updates posted by his wonderful mother, and I understand every word that she shares. I also empathize with her and her family, as this is a very intimate and painful period. You are savoring every moment, every breath that your loved one still has. This is coupled with complete exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.

Today as I was driving home I was thinking about this family, and wondering how they were managing. As my mind drifted a bit I began to sob heavily. It touched on a pain that I try my best not to succumb to these days. It's the pain of knowing that any moment could be their last, and wanting to hold onto each of them. I began picturing Michael in his hospital bed, and all the love and care he needed. I began to picture him in our own bed, sitting their doing his annoying Sudoku that he loved so much. I began thinking of him laying there next to me, with his eyes fixed on mine. I began to remember the feeling of holding him tightly in my arms as my body spooned his.

I sobbed, and I sobbed some more. I know that it doesn't help to get too lost in these old feelings, yet I suppose I must revisit them from time to time. I miss him so very much. I miss his beautiful smile, and the way he made me feel so loved. I miss his goofy flirtatious ways, and how I would laugh at his silly sexy moves. And I miss the look on his face when we would make love.

Yes, I know. These thoughts will only serve to bring more tears tonight, yet I can't help but go there. The difficulty for me is that this young man who is lying there in his own hospital bed, with all of his loving family caring for him, appears to be following the very same time line that Michael did. In two weeks it will the the second anniversary of Michael's death. It seems like a life time ago.

I sit here and take a deep. I know I was fortunate to have him, and yet I can't deny that I am not still angry that I had to lose him so quickly. I don't really know what the point of all this rambling is.

Just where I'm at I suppose.

Tears

You know, I have avoided writing lately. It's not that I've been busy, as there have been many quiet evenings. It's also not like I'm just sitting around doing nothing, as I hosted a fun gathering with friends last weekend, and have been quite busy transplanting two magnolia, and one palm, tree from the front yard to the back. I guess you could say my life has been quite normal.

Then why am I so depressed?

I can't shake it. My mood has been terribly low. Actually, extremely low today. I feel like either I'm very sad, or I'm not feeling anything at all. It wouldn't be so bad if I only had myself to worry about, but that is so not the case. I have a 13 year old that needs me, and needs me to be something beyond depressed.

I felt so bad tonight. I picked up my son from camp, and took him shopping for new shoes. Afterward we stopped for dinner, and that's when I realized that I had nothing to say, and I wasn't really focused on what he might be trying to share with me.

Is it time to get back on antidepressants? Last week the pharmacy mistakenly filled an old prescription for an antidepressant I was on in the past. It's sitting there on the table, ready to return when I get a chance. Now I'm wondering if it was just meant to be. Are there really mistakes in life? I don't know what to think.

I do know that I have really avoided my emotions for awhile. It's not that I have been in denial. I know what I'm feeling at any given moment. It's just that I have avoided tears. Yes, there has been no tears for quite some time. I needed a break from them. I was past the point of daily, even weekly tears. I was...shit

Tears.

It's Raining Men

Remember that Martha Wash song?

Well...

They seem to be everywhere these days. It seem like not so long ago I was sitting here, night after night, in my home, staring at the walls, feeling incredibly lonely, and now I have had three dates, with three men, in one week's time.

Am I a slut?

Well, if I slept with each of them I suppose that would earn me my slut-ville key to the city. It's just that a few guys approached me online about the same time, and I began exchanging nice, and interesting, emails with them. Not all live near me, so it didn't seem likely that I would find myself caught with too many dating opportunities at once, but that is in fact what happened.

This week I arranged for my son to attend a surf camp, where he would have a week of fun in the sun, camping with other kids his age. And, since I would suddenly have lots of unencumbered evening time, I put a message out to these nice guys, that I could be available for a dinner date. Two responded, and I made my plans. Then, the unexpected happened. I ran into a guy that I had traded passing glances, and one brief introduction to in May, and suddenly I had a third potential date. All that happened in the course of a couple of days, and I found myself having a bit of a panic attack at my desk Monday morning.

Here I am with several possible suitors, and I don't even know if I'm ready to be dating. I don't even know who I am completely. I don't even have worked out how to present my past, and my dead husband, to potential romantic partners. See my dilemma? And, as it turns out, they are all really nice guys. What does one do? Even back in the day, when I used to do some brief, and casual dating, I never really had the problem of having to juggle several dates at once.

What's interesting, and I didn't have time to get back to Chelsea about this, but she informed me about a dream she had the night before last. One that included Michael, and me, and the possibility of someone new being welcomed into my life. That same night, I had one of these guys over to the house, and as we sat in my living room talking, I realized that Michael was likely smiling. I was positive that he would be so proud to see me really starting to live again. I am also positive that he would revel in the idea that I might begin being sexually active once again. It's what he wanted for me. Well, to be loved, not necessarily to get laid.

What do I want? I want to feel alive every now and then. I know that my grief won't go away, and that I still have much to go through, but maybe, just maybe, I don't have to do it all while sitting alone in my house. Maybe I can take on more than one theme in life right now.

Grief and Happiness.

Grief and Pleasure.

Grief and Companionship.

At the same time, I am also keenly aware of the fear that should I allow myself to feel anything other than grief, that I could lose it in a second, and fall harder than I ever imagined. Yet, even as I write those words I am reminding myself that nothing could be as painful as those early days, so in that case, it's worth the risk of possibly finding some happiness, pleasure and companionship.

First Date

In quite some time.

I need to admit something. I often hesitate to state how many years we were together, or how long we were married, as the number of years doesn't even convey an ounce of the love, and loss, that I have gone through. I know that for many I have met along this journey, they have had a life time together. For us, it was only just beginning when it ended.

It's put me into an odd fit of a category really. Most of the widowed that I have met who are my age, tend to have been those that were married 20 plus years. Those that had their relationships ended quite early, tend to be much younger than me. This is a dynamic that continues to make me feel displaced, and frankly, a bit confused as to how to proceed from here.

Well, I'll say it, it has been over 5 years since I have been out on a date. To some it's not so long. To others, it may seem like a life time. For me, it's a timeless occurrence, as I feel like I have loved Michael forever. And, at the same time, I feel like I have been without him forever.

For several months now I have toyed with the idea of dating again. I posted a few profiles on select dating sites, and cast them into the web. Yet, at the time, I knew I wasn't ready. I now know that what I was doing was taking small steps forward.

Well, this Friday I will be taking the next step forward. I will be going on my first date since...

It's someone I have exchanged a few friendly emails with. I haven't invested too much time into this, as I want to meet, and get to know guys, face to face. I don't want to set myself up having these extended online relationships that only disappoint when we realize that in person, there is just not the right chemistry. So, without too much personal investment, thus far, I will be headed out, feeling anxious, but optimistic.

Enough said.

Visualizing Change

This is the same title for tomorrow's post on Widow's Voice. I'm feeling like it's time to get back into the dance. I need more dance, more movement in my life. I need to allow someone new to enter the dance, and to even let him lead if he so offers.

I need to stop clinging to tightly to my past, and to perhaps hold on with one hand, while reaching out with the other. I know it's going to take time, and practice, for this to completely feel comfortable, but it's what I want. I want to be out there, moving through my daily life with someone at my side. I want to feel seduced, and to seduce him as well.

I want to feel passion in my life, and I want to remember what it was life to have an active sex life once again. I want laughter, and I want serious late night talk. I want romantic dinners, and weekend BBQ's with someone special. I want to sit and read quietly while he is at my side, and I want to take some late evening strolls throughout the neighborhood, the city, or the beach.

I want to get swept up in his arms, and feel that excitement that only new romance can provide. I want to smile with my eyes, lead with my hands, and speak with my body.

I am visualizing this change.

Went to a Garden Party-for one.

I had the most wonderful day today. I took a drive up to San Marcos, which is about 30 miles north of the city of San Diego. I wanted to go meet with a home spa dealer whom I had spoken to previously on the phone. Not sure if I'll buy anything, but it was a great conversation about how to take care of yourself in your own home. My next destination was a great nursery that I had seen when I was up there on business a couple of months ago. I didn't have time then to stop, so I had made a note to get there as soon as time allowed. Well, time allowed today.

I took a lunch break after spending an hour walking throughout the nursery. I had spotted an Indian restaurant earlier, and knew that I would have to stop for lunch. Just so you know, Indian food is this year's crack.

With the top of my car down, I drove through the beautiful city of Carlsbad, which led me to the San Diego Botanic Garden. This was my ultimate destination, and it was so worth it. I had been the fortunate recipient of a gift membership to the Gardens (thanks again Megan) and wanted to begin what I expect to be many visits. The Garden is broken down into various categories, such as the types of plants, regions, and so on. Rather than take in all in at once, I decided to carve out small portions of the Garden, and really spend some quality time appreciating what it had to offer.

Today's visit was in the Bamboo Display Garden. Now, I have this long history with bamboo, and to be honest, it is a love/hate relationship. I love the simple elegance, beauty and strength, that bamboo possesses. I hate that it grows like weeds, faster than a speeding bullet, and that I had to deal with it in my childhood home, and now in my new San Diego home.

That's it, nothing more.


I got a bit carried away this afternoon, thinking I was some kind of photo journalist. I have many photos of my day in my flickr account. Please take a look when you have some down time.

I also made several very short videos. I'll just share a few with you here, so as to not completely bore you.

First Day


A Quiet Day


Not Jay Leno


Africa

Lust is in the air, everywhere I look around...

It's late, and I should be heading off to bed. Unfortunately, I have slipped back into an old behavior of just staying up very late. I mean, very late. My work at the office is quite slow this week, and because I only have one week left at the job, I'm not getting any new assignments. That said, there is really less need for rest and sleep, so just stay up!

I have also been aware of dreaming a lot this week. The crazy thing is, my dreams have been coming true. I have always been a bit of a dream interpreter for friends, so it's usually quite easy for me to look at the content, or mood, of the dream, and understand what it is I might be working through. Yet, this week has been quite different. I was even sharing one dream with my youngest son a few days ago, then by the end of the night I pointed out to him how it actually came true. It was a very strange feeling, but not one that I feel a need to analyze further.

For those that don't know, I will be starting a new job soon. Last year I flew down to San Diego and interviewed with the Superior Court to work as a custody mediator. It is something I really wanted to do, it pays well, and I honestly believe that I have much to offer them. The openings at the time were a bit far from where I planned to settle, so I let them know that it was not my preference to work so far from home. Fortunately for me, someone recently retired from their downtown court house, and they offered me the job. I've done all the preliminary finger prints, medical exam, and mandatory drug test, and am now just waiting for all the results to come in so they can give me my start date. The funny thing is, I've been kind of stressed about the drug test. Why? I have never used drugs. I think that I am still in a very vulnerable place in my grief. Having this job dangled in front of me, which is my "brass ring," is making me worry that some kind of fluke will occur, and I will lose what I am expecting to get.

Along with this job process, I did have an interesting moment, or two, while having my employment physical. I was being run through the various stations at this employment health care facility, while in the corner of my eye I could see this very good looking doctor. I just smiled, and thought, I hope I get assigned to him! Well, maybe I was also a bit nervous, as I didn't know how thorough this exam would be, and do I want to get undressed in front of this very cute doctor while I begin fantasizing about our future life together?

There I was, sitting on the exam table, all clothing remaining on. It was just a quick perfunctory exam, but throughout it I kept catching him catching my eye. He would smile, then look away. At one point he asked if I suffered from any hernias, such as abdominal, or groin. What! No. No such problem. Again, I sensed a bit of bashfulness on his part, which made me go weak in the knees. I may be making this part up, but I think he actually asked me once again if I was worried about a hernia. For a moment there I was tempted. Of course, now that you mention it, I was kind of worried about a hernia. Maybe I need to lie back on the table while you palpitate my abdomen. Or, maybe there is something wrong with my groin. Oh dear me, where those my trousers that just hit the floor?

Okay, so I can be a bit naughty. Well, to be honest I can be a bit of a perv. Tomorrow I have to return to have my TB test read. Of course we expect that it will be positive, as I was exposed to TB about 18 years ago, and took INH for a year. But, because I didn't have my medical record of it, the kind, and concerned, and good looking, young doctor said we should just go ahead and do the test. In my fantasy, he has been quite worried about me since yesterday. He is wondering if he should break a boundary, and call to check in with me. Looking at my arm right now, well, it's quite red, and raised. Fuck. I really didn't want to go get an X-ray of my chest, but I"m sure that is where this is headed. But, I'm almost positive that this man of integrity, and nice bedside manner, will take it upon himself to see that I am okay after having to stare at the ever growing red raised area at the test site of my arm.

Okay, I'm also a bit of a nut. Yes, I know when I am truly losing it. But, look at where I am. I am fantasizing about another man. I am allowing myself to get lost in the idea that there could be romance in my future. Not likely with this cute doctor, as he is probably at home with his wife and kids right this minute. I'm sure I created all of this up in my head.

But maybe I am wrong. Maybe it's the beginning of my next romantic adventure!

The Birthday

Wasn't planning on posting anything today, but here I am.

My day went well enough. The nice folks at work had a cake for me and a fellow worker who share the same birthday. From that point on I was on a marathon of appointments throughout the county. It was very busy, and very tiring. I couldn't wait to get home, throw off my work duds, and put on a big over sized shirt (Michael's of course) and a pair of shorts.

Other than a quick run out for dinner with my son Remy, I have been sitting here reading email, the many wonderful greetings that only Facebook can provide for, and staring at the silent television screen. I was doing okay most of the time, then it hit, the tears.

For some reason I kept telling myself not to cry today. I felt like I had to have a happy day, sans tears, to some how prove to everyone that I'm not wallowing in my grief. I'm not quite sure why I give myself these messages, as no one else is telling me this. I suppose we are always our own worse enemies, right?

Anyway, I finally gave myself permission to cry, which I did very easily. I only needed a few minutes, then stopped to catch my breath. Just then, the phone rings. I don't ordinarily answer the phone when having one of these moments, but this call was needed. It was Michael's mother. If anyone was going to understand, it was her. Sure enough, she said I sounded like she usually feels. We laughed, and joked about lying about our age. I promised to say I was 39 so she could then claim a younger age as well. It was a very nice, and fun, conversation. I feel much more connected as a result, and can spend the rest of the evening in a better state.

Thank you Barbara for your call. Thank you for your continued love and support.

Thank you to all my friends and family that reached out to me today.

Thank you Michael for your love. I miss you more and more each day, but hold your smile in my heart, which keeps it beating.

Just continuing the walk.

Time for a check in.

My social life here in San Diego is beginning to take off. I'm spending more and more time with the crowd from work. I really clicked with this group, and feel so comfortable with each of them. I also get to see a new friend, who recently lost her child, during these gatherings. Sometimes I can talk to her about her grief, other times there is just that unspoken acknowledgement that we share with our eyes. I'm being taken out to lunch by some other new friends later in the week, which I have been really looking forward to. It's nice to find kindred spirits where you decide to lay your hat.

I think that this current change in my social life in a combination of some very special people that have chosen to go out of their way to engage me. It's also because I have come out of my self imposed hibernation. I really think is was a necessary part of my grieving journey, and I feel so much stronger as a direct result of it.

I did notice today though, that in between these fun, and supportive, connections, I have a tendency to slip into my depression, but not for long, and not as deep. When I can step back at look at this whole grief experience, I find that it is so fascinating. I have definitely had times in my life when I was sad, anxious, hurt, and so on, but never have I had those gut feelings that go along with such periods last this long. It's like having a chronic condition. You treat it, you try to sedate it, or you try to manage the pain, and yet, it is always there.

No new insight really, just my current level of awareness.

Unexpected Visitors

This has definitely been a week of social connections. It's that old saying, when it rains, it pours. Well, in the past I may have used this line to convey that I had been crying a lot, but I am pleased to say that it has been a time of pouring love, and interaction with friends.

Friday I posted a stupid April Fools joke on my Facebook account. I wrote that things were not working out for me, and I was taking my 12 year old, and moving to a meditation center in Thailand. I even went so far as to research a place where I could actually go, and that had programing for children. Well, most assumed, or perhaps, hoped, it was a joke. But, a good amount of friends began asking about a going away party. Some panicked, especially my new friends here in San Diego. I think they felt somewhat betrayed. Hey, we have really come to care about you Dan, don't leave us!

I was quick to let my local friends know that it was a joke, but I tell you, I have received a fair amount of teasing at the office all week because of this. At this point I am seriously thinking of planning a trip to the very place I joked about. I think it would be a good way to get myself back on the spiritual quest that I began this past summer.

Anyway, because of the alarm that was sent out on Friday, I got a quick request to join some friends at a local hangout. I met them for food and drinks, and had a really great time. The next night I hosted a gathering at my home for several more friends. We cooked, drank, laughed, and cried. It was a lovely evening. It gave me an opportunity to share my home for the first time. It also gave me an opportunity to connect to a couple who recently lost a child. I had a truly intimate moment, standing in my bedroom, my hand on Michael's urn, sharing with the young mother about how our pain is part of the healing process.

As this week has gone on I have received two calls from old friends in San Francisco, wanting to catch up with me. They are both planning on a visit next month, which really makes me happy. I also got invited out for a birthday lunch by a few new friends I have made in the community of which I work. One, also someone single, extended herself further by letting me know that she is always looking for someone to dine with, or to do fun things in the city. She told me never to hesitate to call, even if it is very last minute, as she loves to do things on the fly. This was a great thing to hear, as I had been thinking about asking the same of her.

I must also say that since my first day on the new job, I was blessed with the most amazing office mate. And even though I have since been transferred to a different floor in the building, she has continued to go out of her way to connect with me, and make many of these social gatherings happen. I have quickly grown to love and cherish my friendship with her.

So what am I trying to say tonight?

I am blessed. Truly blessed. Something is changing around me. I am coming out of hibernation, and as I poke my head out, I see that I am not alone. There are people there, willing, and wanting, to be a part of my life. There is no regret, okay, maybe there is, but I know that I needed to go through this dark and lonely period that the past few months have been. I needed the quiet time to mourn further, and to let things fall into place. This is not to say that everything will suddenly be rosy, but I do feel that I will no longer be allowed to completely withdraw again.

I can honestly say that I am happy at this moment. I woke up this morning, not having slept too long, or too well. I woke up with an odd feeling that I had a visitor last night. You see, I don't remember my dreams. I used to be quite a vivid dreamer. Ever since Michael died, I can only remember two dreams. That's it. There are no pictures, words, or symbols that I can recall being a part of my sleep last night, but there is a feeling, a feeling that he was there. I remember lying in bed, not being able to sleep. I kept asking Michael to come visit me. I really wanted to see him, or feel him again. I remember wishing I could have lovely dreams of us together, yet it has never happened. I don't know how it happened, or what happened, or if it happened. I only know that he was there, and that is lovely for me.