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.

Relationship Status

Okay, so I was surfing the net, and decided to drop by Facebook and see what was up with some of my friends. I'm one of the many that has not been too happy with the changes that Facebook made, so rather than rely on what Facebook decides to show me in their "Top Stories" I click in and out of every one's pages. It kind of serves to make me feel like I am visiting a friend, although no one usually knows I've been there unless I take the time to leave a comment.This is a long-winded way to get to the point of today's writing.

I was checking out a particular friend's page, and noticed that her relationship status had changed. Yes, you know who you are! Well, it's not that I didn't know she was in a new relationship, as we both started our new relationships around the same time. And no, our relationship is not with each other. My point is this, her Facebook status reflects her current relationship status, and mine still says Widowed. It had me thinking, why haven't I changed mine? Now I know that I don't have to do everything she does, after all we are two very different people. Well, we aren't that different, but different none the less.

So, what's up with me?

I wonder if I'm having a difficult time letting go of my widowed status. Actually, there is no reason to wonder, as I know that I'm having a difficult time letting go of my widowed status. Besides, it's not just reflected in my Facebook status, it's everywhere else in my daily life. After all, the only people that know of my new status are you, my online community, my friends from work, and a few friends who happened to have notice a new face pop up in my uploaded photos.

This morning I woke up thinking about all of this. I realized that I have been in this relationship for about a month now, and it was time to begin letting more people know. I also realized that the first person I needed to share this with was my mother-n-law. I know she didn't expect me to remain single forever, yet I also know that it might be another transition in her own grief to know that someone is now occupying some space that Michael once had sole custody of. Because I was at work, I decided to write her a message, as I would then be able to best articulate my thoughts, and give her the opportunity to re-read them if needed. I expect that now that I have completed this initial task, I will begin sharing my new found status with my parents and siblings soon.

Here's the thing, I will always love Michael. Michael will always be my husband. That will never change. It's just that I need time to sort out my frame of reference regarding these two men. For one, it's still early on in my relationship with Abel, yet I already know that what is developing is something significant. When speaking of Michael, I always say "my husband." Rarely do I refer to him as my late husband. So maybe I'm looking for a term that speaks of a widower who is in a relationship.

For some reason I keep thinking about the film Doña Flor and Her Two Husbands.

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.

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.

Nothing

What to do when too restless to sleep.

I'm back to that old pattern of staying up far too late at night. I'm not really doing much other than stare at this damn computer screen. I'm not sure what I'm trying to find, or what I'm wanting to find me. It's just a familiar pattern, one that was a major part of my early grieving process. Of course it's not something that is conducive to being completely productive at work the next day.

This is how that last few nights have been. Then once I do fall asleep I am back awake around 4am each morning. Why? I don't really know.

It was a busy, then emotional day. Nothing seems to satisfy me, and nothing really to hold my interest. Earlier I was laying prone on my bed, feeling too numb to move, then thought for a moment how wonderful it would be if my bed came crashing to the floor. I imagined that I would come crashing down with it, and the force of my fall would cause something to land on my head, and leave me with a huge bump or bruise. I would be in so much physical pain, yet it would feel so real. It would be tangible pain that I could carry with me. I would be able to see it on my face whenever I looked into a mirror. People would stop to ask what the hell happened to me. I would be so preoccupied by the pain, and the visual effects of the fall, that I would lose sight of the fact that I was previously feeling numb, and restless.

I laid there on my bed, waiting for something to happen. The crash never arrived. No physical trauma availed itself to give me some kind of relief from the stalemate that I find myself in. Instead I have been sitting here, for hours, waiting for something to arrive, or something to change.

Nothing. Nothing is happening. Nothing.

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.

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.

Streets of San Francisco

I just returned from a brief trip back to San Francisco. It was a business trip, not one that I had chosen on my own. The week before starting my new job, I was told that I needed to attend a training, and was a bit thrown off when told where it would take place. I decided that the universe was telling me that it was time to walk some of those familiar streets once again.

People have been asking me a lot lately if I miss San Francisco. After all, I did live there for about 25 years. I give the same answer every time.

No.

I think I surprise people by my response. I then try to fill in some of the missing blanks for those that ask. "When I move on, I move on." It's not really a cop out, it's really the truth. I don't miss it, and I have moved on. I'm also keenly aware that by not missing it, I don't fall into the pitfall of doing any reminiscing. No reminiscing means not having to remember more than I want to. It's not that I don't have fond memories, as I have a lot of them. It's just that they still feel like harsh reminders of what was, and what no longer is.

I approached the return with careful planning. I arranged to visit with a couple of very close friends, and otherwise did not tell a soul that I would be in town. This allowed me to focus my energy on the training courses that I was sent for, and to enjoy the company of my new coworkers who were there with me. I became a bit of a den mother, taking them to a couple of nice spots for dinner and drinks. It was a good time for bonding, and a good distraction from what could have been an emotionally loaded occasion.

There was a bit of an awkward moment when out with a few of the gang, and was asked what the tattoos on my arm symbolized. They were surprise to see my arm covered in ink, as I always cover up for work. I began my explanation about the loss I experienced, and was standing in a bar just down the street from where Michael and I met as I spoke. It was clear from their faces that my new friends were completely blown away by what I was sharing. It was actually a cathartic moment, sharing this with them over a drink, then being able to move forward with some fun and laughter for the rest of the night.

What was also nice were the surprise encounters everywhere I went. I must admit, it was rather sweet to be walking down the street, cross a bar room, or enter a building, and be met by familiar smiling faces. With each chance encounter was a look of joy at the opportunity to catch up with me.

I returned home late last night, and felt like it was a good trip over all. Today, though, has been a different matter. Today I have been feeling so down, and deeply depressed. It's clearly one of those "day after" situations. These occurred often during my first year of grieving. I would have all this anticipated worry about days that felt loaded, only to get through them relatively well. Then, the day after would arrive, and all the emotions that had been held back would on in full force. It's text book really.

Anyway, my point is that I was able to recognize it this evening. Rather than worry too much about what I am experiencing, I am able to put it into perspective. I have learned that the pain, or sorrow, cannot be passed off completely when re-experiencing the past. But, no matter how tough that day after can be, the days that follow do get better, and perspective is regained.

What the f*ck have I done?

Well, obviously I haven't written here in a long time. I guess you could say I've been busy getting on with my life. I'm pretty much settled into my new job, and looking forward to getting busier there, as I don't do well with too much time on my hands. I have had many projects going on at my house, which has been expensive, and has also been a bit nerve racking.

Just a couple of days ago I was walking around my home, and stood on the back deck looking at all the completed upgrades I have done. It's a very large space, filled with furnishings, yard, and garden. It's just perfect for social gatherings and fun times. The problem is, I'm all alone.

I found myself in tears as I stood there because I was asking myself what it was all for. It was also a bit disconcerting when I realized how much my life has changed in the past 20 months since Michael died. I have desperately, and fervently, tried to create a new life for myself, and actually have, with much success. But have I don't too much?

What the fuck have I done?

Poetic. Right?

All of these changes have come somewhat easily. I set out to create something new, but I worry if I have gone too far, too soon. Now that I have this larger home, with this bigger space, I feel even more alone. The house is so quiet these days. I can wander around, and rarely have someone to interact with. It's clear that I need to put a lot of effort into getting some visitors this summer. I need to start planning some barbeque's, and invite friends and family over. I also need to step out of my home more often, and once again, start meeting new people. Mostly, I need to begin meeting some other gay men. This is clearly one area that I am lacking in my life.

I have never been very good at making friends with other gay men. I have tended to surround myself with straight women, which has really been reinforced since becoming a widower. The few gay widowers that I have come into contact with throughout this journey do not live near me. If I'm going to have the gay male relationships that I desire, then I will need to try something new. I'm not quite sure what that actually entails, but I'm ready to begin.

I don't want to be alone in my life forever. I don't want my kids worrying about their dad, or feeling guilty about the fact that I am so alone. I want some male friendships, and I would love some male "attention" now and then. I'm going to work at being more outgoing, and I am going to work at renewing a sense of optimism.

Wish me luck.

The New Office

20 months. A nice sounding number.


I started my new job this week. A new transition for me once again. So much new, all the time it seems. For some reason, I didn't prepare myself for the questions, and the feelings that come up with them.


Sitting here in this empty office.

A bit of a blank slate.

White walls, nails where pictures used to hang.

Small holes in the walls where prior residents hung their photos and memories.

Staples where those quick postings were attached, now all torn down.


All that is left behind are indications of others, that used to be. Feels like being surrounded by ghosts.

What am I doing here?


"Hey, what brought you to San Diego?"


It's the question everyone asks, yet clearly no time for any type of meaningful response.


Oh, just needed a change.


Tomorrow I actually move into the office that will be my new home away from home for a significant amount of time each day. I'm realizing how important this environment will be. I really need to be comforted by a space that feels like home, that reflects me, and that I can build on.

Yet, while I wait, and find myself unable to tune out the ghostly walls, the feeling of detachment, and the sense of no history, so I mourn. I want to close the office door. I want to sit and cry. I've never had a private office, and don't know that this is the best time for me to have one. I have too much alone time as it is. I wonder if I'll draw out my sessions with clients longer than my peers, out of sheer loneliness or to fill the empty space.


Hey, don't feel sorry for me. I'm being paid well.

Hey, don't worry about me, I'm surrounded by what seems like very nice people.


Roots will be established, and friendships will be created. My life outside work has improved significantly. I no longer go home and stare at the walls. Well, maybe I still do at times, yet I clearly have options at this point.

I'm pinching myself... yes, he is still gone.

The office is now almost empty. Everyone has left the building. I'm in no hurry. I want to finally say it out loud...


I'm here because my husband died.

I'm here because I wanted to die.

I'm here to continue my healing.

I'm here to start over.


Tomorrow begins the reveal. Tomorrow I set up my new office. Tomorrow they will see the healing nature of how I arrange my space. Tomorrow they will see my family photo. Tomorrow begins the next phase of questions.

"Hey, who is that guy in the photo?"

Life Is Too Short

You know, there is so much that I don't seem to share these days. I wonder if it is because I am so busy actively doing what I need to be doing, rather than writing about what I'd like to be doing.

I am actually feeling quite integrated into life once again. I have developed a group of friends, many of which know each other, yet mostly I spend time with them individually. I am out several times a week, either having lunch, dinner, walking, or just plain chatting, with friends.

It feels so good to know that there are people around for me to socialize with, and who are eager to do so. I don't feel so isolated anymore. I can stay at home, and still enjoy it for the most part, but I can also be out there having a good time.

So far I am spending my time with my mostly straight friends, having a good time socializing. And for the most part, I seem to have developed a very sensitive, and fun, new group of friends. I started a new job, and I want to continue to help others

I am also actively putting myself out there for potential dating. I'm on a few dating sites, and have corresponded with a few guys. I'm not sure if I will meet a new "man of my dreams" or my "next new husband" as Mike would say, but I am out there connecting to guys, and remaining
open to these connections moving in a romantic direction if it develops.

I am also doing all this with a renewed spirit, and with the attitude that life is too short, so why limit myself. I am giving myself permission to just enjoy life. And, as I was telling a new friend tonight, I don't have too many hang ups in regard to just having a fun time, meaning a casual fling here and there. I will not deny myself any type of pleasure at this time, well, almost any type. I just don't need to be giving myself any type of heavy handed self judgement. Again, life, too short.
so enjoy it.

Tonight's events? A two hour early evening walk through Balboa Park with a friend, then a nice Lebanese dinner.

It's all good. Of course, so much makes me think about Michael, which still brings about a sudden onslaught of tears, but I am back to being comfortable with all of this.

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

So Be It.

I’m down to my last few days at the job, which means there is little for me to do. I don’t do well with idle time, so my day is going quite slow, as I have run out of things to keep me busy. I still don’t have a start date for the new job, which is a bit concerning, but they did say they would not call until all the required clearances were returned to them, which always takes some time. For the most part I have accepted that I may be told at the last minute that I start on Friday, or I may have the next couple of weeks free.

Most people of learn of this think that I am so fortunate to possibly have some free time on my hands, but to be honest, I still have too much free time on my hands. I am doing more, and making an effort, but truth be told, I still tend to stay home a lot. It’s a difficult balance, because I do have my 12 year old son at home, and he still, or probably more than ever, needs careful supervision. I am taking a friend out to dinner tonight to celebrate her birthday, so it’s not like I am a shut in. It’s all just one step at a time.

I decided to take a step at making my dating/social life begin. I posted an updated photo of myself on a dating site, and sent an email introducing myself to someone who is also gay, and a parent. There is no reason why I should be taking the passive position in this new dating venture. In the past, and okay, still in the present, I often hesitate to make the first move. It’s not that I am all that shy, well, I suppose I am, but it’s more because I come with some baggage, meaning three kids. For many single gay men, the idea of kids is a deal breaker. Not that I blame them, as my kids do take up a significant amount of my time and attention. But, if I am to be blessed with another relationship in my future, then I have to accept that there are more than one gay man out there does not mind, or likes, that I have kids.

There is also the widowed thing. Oh, that. I know that for many, the idea that I am back on the market after only 18 months, might seem a bit soon. I know that I would have questions if I met someone who was open to dating after only 18 months. It’s not that there is a judgment against it, it’s just that you want to be sure that the person you start to date can really see it through. I would hate to get deep in the dating someone, only to realize that I am not ready, and to hurt that person. I know that there are also a host of reasons why a new relationship might not work, or might have some bumps in the road, so I am telling myself that this is only one factor, and to not put too much weight on it.

I am really working on self affirmation. No, I’m not taping messages all over the house, or filling my Facebook account with quotes, but just giving myself an ongoing talking to. I’m reminding myself that I am capable of loving. I am capable of being love. I have a lot to offer, and I have plenty of room to receive. I am still young, well according to my peer group at least. I don’t dare ask my son’s opinion. I still have my looks, thanks to my recent visit to a skin rejuvenation center (can you say “wrinkles no more”), and my libido has shown a recent increase, thanks to the healthy array of Internet “art” films. (I am a man, no apologies.)

So, what’s the point of this post? I seem to have forgotten momentarily. Okay, so my mind is beginning to fail me now and then. You know, some people get a bit concerned about their mind slowing down. Some have suggested Ginkgo Biloba, but to be honest, some things are better left un-remembered. If I forget the depth of my pain and grief at times, oh well, so be it. If I forget that my waist line measurement is now larger than my inseam, so bit it. If the reflection in the mirror now displays more salt than pepper, well, cover the damn mirror. Do I really need to be focusing on such details? I don’t think so.

Funny, it reminds me of the country song by Toby Keith. “I may not be as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was.

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.

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.

Blue Skies

Today's weather in San Diego was rather odd. There were moments that it would pour down heavy rainfall, then as if walking into a different room, complete bright sunshine. I was out attending to several appointments I had, so I was able to experience this in dramatic fashion as I drove along the freeway.

How similar it is with grief. There are definitely periods of long days of rain, followed by weeks of a lighter heart. It doesn't always move along with consistency, but can have some familiar seasons. In between such periods, I have found my grief to be more that of today's weather, moving along my day, and being caught off guard by a sudden outpouring of grief. Then, within a moment or two, the sun comes out, and my spirit is lifted.

Late in the day, and it would appear that the sun was won out.

True Blue

Fast & True.

Unwavering.

Grief.

Can I be honest with you?

I feel like it's a "come clean" with my reality time once again.

I have been terribly unhappy. Okay, no big surprise.

I'm so burdened by my grief these days. I feel like I am carrying an enormous piece of baggage, and I'm getting so tired of the excess weight. I can feel the weight bearing on my heart, and on my shoulders. It makes any type of movement all the more strenous. And, for the most part, I only carry it around while at work. The rest of my time I come home, sit it beside me, and choose to take the easy way out, meaning go nowhere with it.

I am alone.

Yes, I do have my kids, yet only one at home at present. He is twelve, and at this point that means forced meals together, and some side by side computer time. He is quite content to be out with his friends, and that is the way it should be. As for me, I just want him to be busy enough to not notice how depressed, and stagnant his father is.

I feel like a cloister.

I live in a world of silence these days. There is little person to person interaction in my life. The whole world has moved on, yet I am still here, mourning, and somewhat giving up. I go to work each day, and do my job. I have a little interaction here and there, but most of my opportunity to talk with another person happens on the phone, or in person, with clients. I tend to work long days. Not because I have a lot of work to do, quite the contrary, I have too much time on my hands at the office. I'm finding that it is not as challenging as I would like it to be. But it, like me, is a work in progress. I don't rush to leave, as there is no real pay off in returning home.

The days go by painstakingly slow. Lunch time comes, and though I may be hungry, I'm in no rush to do anything about it. I quietly walk out the building, and get into my car. Most of the time this too is in silence. I sit in my car, then realize I have no where to go, and no one to go there with. I think that because my position is that of a floater, it makes it hard to connect with other folks at work, and more difficult to maintain friendships. Just when I think I'm getting to know people, or them me, well, it's time to move on once again.

You know, people may hear this of me, and think that I should just stop dwelling on the past. Most have no idea that my life feels so empty. I don't know what others think I am filling my time with, but all I can come up with is empty space.

That's it. My life feels so empty.

This is not a cry for help. Lord knows I did enough of that in my car today. It's just me, trying to be real with my readers. 18 months out, and I'm a real fucking mess. I've thought about getting back into therapy, which I most likely will do, so nobody needs to leave me a list of shoulds. The reality here is this. Life is shit. You give your heart to someone, and that someone is taken away.

Oops. I think he took my heart with him. Maybe I should have asked for it back before he left.

How do I explain this. I was very happy. Even after the devesating news that he would die of a brain tumor. I still had him, so I managed to find happiness while I battled that damn tumor. Now I have nothing. About now most are scratching their heads. Nothing? Well, yes. Nothing. Nothing has replaced the pain and emptiness that placed upon me 18 months ago. And, remember people, 18 months is not that long ago. So many people expect me to be different at this point. What point? My husband died. Wouldn't you be different if your spouse died? Of course you would be, and not for the better.

Last week my mother gave me a gem. I don't even know is she realizes it. My brother is having a birthday party for my sister in law. I love my sister in law, in fact I just call her my sister, as that's who she is to me. Yet, I can't see myself at a party with a bunch of couples, laughing and having a good time. What they don't realize is that one of Michael's most happy memories together was having party/gathering at their home. It was the first time he was meeting all of my family together, and my brother and sister made him feel so much at ease by their joyous nature. I can still picture him smiling, and laughing in their patio.

Back to the gem. My mother was talking to my sister, and explained that it would be unrealistic to expect me to go to such a party. My mother reminded her that while the rest of them have kept moving forward, life for me has moved extremely slow. She said that the rest of my family just doesn't realize this. She is so right. If they did, they would realize how slow, and quiet, my life continues to be.

Well, this was not meant to be a woe is me type of post. I just don't want my newly widowed readers to think that at 18 months, Dan, in real time, is doing exceptionally well. It just doesn't work that way. I know what people want to hear. I know what people don't want to hear. And, I know what people would prefer for me.

Sorry folks, that's not my reality.

My reality is that it is a hard and difficult road. It's also a very long, and lonely road. Sometimes I wish it was a dead end, but it's not. I know that I must keep walking. And, I know that I will to continue walking. Just not as fast as you might think.

That Which Is Broken

This afternoon my 17 year old son dislocated a finger while playing basketball at school. I met his school counselor at the hospital E.R., and waited while they got the finger back in position, and took some x-rays. Turns out he had a chip fracture.

On the drive taking him back to his group home he turns to me and asks,

"Dad, have you ever had something broken in your body?"

Hmm