Sorrow

 Despite my resolve to go forward

to carry him in my heart -

him, and all those magical glorious years

despite my decision to choose love and fight for my own wellness

there are always the afternoons

in this case drizzly/grey and otherworldly

but could equally be sunny, bright and cheerful

where I have to look through his pictures

the file called Danny (and all the hundreds and hundreds of files containing him, the pics that didn't make it into Danny)

the folder called Holy

the one called The Squint

I look and look, to remember the shape of him - not that I need to

his funny sit, his freckled lip, the bump on his nose, is all imprinted on me better than I know myself

but I look anyway, to see

if some angle shows a sadness I might have missed

or an expression not often shown

I look and look, through 19 folders each month, 19 or 20 or maybe more

since 2006, November (Danny One)

and there is always that one

that blessed, terrible one

that shows his full sweetness, that seems to encapsulate

all that I loved in him, in just the one half smile, head carriage - there it is

my love, my joy

and all I've lost is a 30 story building collapsing on my heart

again

Twenty Weeks Today

 He is everywhere, in my heart, my soul, my being.

In my house, in the forest. When I close my eyes, and when they are open.

His smile and funny bouncing gait…his head tilt…

I open the door and he is there, stretching as he did, always, before going out or coming in, like he was bowing to the door gods.

He is there when I shower and no head pushes the door open, no  one comes to check on me 25 times in 7 minutes. He is there in the clenching pain  when I write these words or look through album after album of days gone by – just vanished – did they even happen?

He is there when I recall the way the sunlight dappled the forest floor on that one walk we did, a few times a week, over by Lac Mahon, and it is so so vivid and I can see him so clearly, bouncing up ahead, so happy when he was free in the forest with me. 

He is there when I make coffee, beside the jar that held his Medicine Cookies, and there is no soft nose nudging my hand, no excited Rabbit eyes looking up for his little treasure. He would take that cookie off to his bed to enjoy it, he could only have one a day, so he was determined to make it last. I so loved everything about him.

He is everywhere in his absence.

 

 

They, whoever they are, tell me that  the souls of the dead go into the light.

So I take my cane and walk outside to let the sun stream through the trees, onto me and through me, in the desperate hope that somehow, he will be there, too.

 

 

17 Weeks Today

  Today is painful, there is no way around it. The last couple of days I have been surprisingly ok - but, much as that respite is welcomed, I remind myself that it is not the goal - I am  not trying to hurry through this necessary passage, nor shove the pain of Dan's loss down into the subconscious, to fester and damage me in ways unforeseen.

But, still, today is pretty goddamn bad.

Here is what I wrote to him yesterday; shared today, as all the candles, tea and tears are not helping much.

 

"Good morning, my darling, or afternoon, I lose track of time these days. Is there time where you are? The poets tell us no, and the mystics concur. Time here, drags or flies, it never behaves reasonably at all. Were you here yesterday? or a lifetime ago...or both....

I am distracted by sadness again today...but I wanted to tell you...earlier I was outside, as you know I love so much...watering your rose, and a butterfly landed on the big field mustard I've allowed to bust through the concrete, grow and bloom... despite being a "weed" I could not bring myself to kill it.

A beautiful, perfect swallowtail, such as you would be if you choose that shape to visit me - and I stood there

transfixed
enchanted

for a moment radiant with that same joy I used to feel all the time, daily; looking at you, or just being with you watching the natural world, bugs and buds and the falling, sacred light on the willows....one of our Sit Spots in the woods, gathering mullein flowers...pine gathering days...JOY.

I felt that, Dan, just for a moment I really did.    Everything beautiful is so tied up with you.

But the world insists on beauty and life .... and I am still, and forever, without you.

Back to work with me, and living breath to breath - wandering the hours in this strange landscape of life without my heart. I feed the ever-worried cats, I type out recipes, I force myself to rest. It remains, a place of dim light and grey visions of days past, haunted images and sorrow....fleeting respite, watching telly, with that horrible empty space beside me on the couch.

but - there was that moment earlier today..a creature on a flower, and - my heart DID sing. A song of praise, and awe, and so much love.

I thought you'd like to know.