Wednesday, December 10, 2008


Sweet sweet escape.
Sometimes I love just getting away from everything.
Getting away from my life.
Getting away from my house.
And when I do, everything is normal.
Roger is at home and I am just away for a short trip.

There is no work to go back to besides the business of death.
And for a few days, I can pretend that Roger is at home waiting for me.
That the past few months are just an illusion.
A very very bad dream.

And being here with my widow friend finally gives me someone who truly does understand.
We can cry together.
I can share my truly crazy thoughts and she does not look at me like I'm insane.
Although our circumstances are a little different, we have so many similarities.
The sad part is how much our lives have been similar even before this even our relationships with our families and our siblings.

So for now, I'm half pretending Roger is alive and well
and the other half is knowing finally someone understands my feelings for what they are.

1 comment:

Crash Course Widow said...

Those fellow young widows are priceless. You'll never find support and understanding like you will from them, particularly over the long haul as it gets years out from the death.

They help you to know you're normal, that what you're experiencing is normal, and that there's not a universal, "one right way" to grieve. You learn from them and with them that everyone's different and unique, just as their grief and losses are different and unique from yours. And you learn the true ways that grief unfolds and refashions itself over the long term, as the grief shifts from months to years.

True, you can still find jackasses who are also widowed (and somehow it feels worse when you meet a crap widow, because you expect that they should be a soul mate, a cosmic twin in some sense), and there are many a grieving person who you wouldn't like if you didn't have only one single thing--death--in common. Or hell, you STILL might not like them even *with* having death in common.

But the kindred spirits in grief? They're priceless. I'm glad you have one already, with whom you can feel safe and totally open.