Unspoken Vows

March 8, 2013

My brother was married today to a wonderful woman whom I admire and adore. I was so happy to be a part of their special day and to partake in the emotional union of two people who have through all the muck and bilge in the world, sifted through the crumbs and found each other.

I paid special attention to this ceremony of love and trust, especially the vows. Each of the words carefully chosen by our cousin, Carl who officiated the ceremony. There were many religious references and credit given to God and Jesus for this pairing.  Being of the non-religious sort, I didn't get too caught up in all the Jesus speak, but could appreciate the solemnity of the words my cousin so meticulously and artistically chosen. I loved the bits of laughter, the wiping of tears and the blessings of the rings which would serve as a symbol to the world of their union. As they placed the rings on each other's fingers, you could barely hear the vows spoken to each other in hushed tones sprinkled with so much emotion about loving, honoring and cherishing - until death does part us.

That is where I was shoved into the back of my chair and stopped dead in my tracks. Until death parts us?? Does this mean when I spoke those vows, I was saying that all the love, honor and cherish part just automatically goes away once death has parted us. I don't think so! Who came up with this crap so long ago? Who made the assumption that the vows spoken on the day of joining two lives ends upon death? Is this a contract that becomes null and void once the heart stops beating? Are we no longer held by the constraints of the bonds of marriage because the breath ceases to exist?

I was completely dumbfounded to realize that the vows so often spoken in wedding ceremonies all over the country were a load of hogwash. I did not stop loving Ron when he died. I did not stop cherishing and honoring him because he was buried beneath the earth. I may have loved him a little more because he was gone, my love was actually more concentrated because I had to love enough for both of us. He was not a part of the equation any longer and yet I did not stop loving him.

My thoughts drifted to the life we had expected to live. We had a vision of our older years sitting in the swing he built on the back porch of our home looking over the vast expanse of our backyard with our grandchildren and great grandchildren frolicking about in white batiste clothes. It was such a dreamy vision that gave me a sense of peace and content. My life was supposed to be this fantastic plan but Ron's death turned that plan inside out.

When we took our vows 11+ years ago, how could be have known I would be sitting alone on that porch swing, wistfully trying to recapture the feelings of that special day so long ago, when we became man and wife, in the very same backyard and our love was sealed with a kiss.

 

Awakenings

February 28, 2013

I was walking around my bedroom looking at all the things that have remained untouched since that terrible day in June.  The pile of his laundry, still unwashed in the hamper.  The closet full of his clothes, including the suit he wore to a wedding just 2 weeks before he died, still perfumed by his manly cologne.  The medicine cabinet has been stripped of all the many medications that sustained him for years yet the space where they sat is filled with the memory of fear, anxiety and waiting - for the worst. Now, the worst has already happened.



It has been 8 1/2 months since Ron died and I still can't bring myself to open the drawers to his dresser let alone clear out his belongings.  Why is it that the process of cleaning and clearing out his personal effects feels more permanent than seeing his body placed in the wooden casket and lowered into the ground?  The silent slumber as I caressed his face on the last day I laid eyes on him?  I search my mind, heart and soul for the source of my reticence to let go and I can only find a scared, lonely girl child who just wants to be loved, and to love in return.  It is a stab to my soul to think all his belongings are just waiting there, in the drawers, closet, cabinets.  Waiting for him to pick his attire for the day.  His socks, underwear, t-shirts.  Shoes all in a row.  And the hardest to face, his ties.  Those magical ties chosen so carefully with his personality and business needs in mind.  The strong colors of the power ties for big business meetings.  The fanciful, fun ties for going out, or to weddings.  The softer, yet dramatic ties hand picked by our daughter to coordinate with her festive frocks for the Father-Daughter dances.  They all sit, waiting.

Part of the letting go process means that a new awareness must be developed.  An awakening of the heart to accept the next phase of what is to be, what is to become.  There are times when I feel the fluttering of this new experience and am ready to open myself to the unknown and even feel hopeful that I will survive Ron's death.  That hope is far too often dampened by the mist of rememberance and the cloudy fog attempting to forget. 

I attend my Young Widow grief groups and see other widows and widowers as they go through exactly what I am experiencing, but they all do it differently, in their own way. The fact there must be a special group for us, being young and not crotchety old folks who bid their spouse of 65 years adiou after passing in their sleep is comical.  We didn't live out our expected lives together, it was taken from us without permission and without a warning for most.  They all have shared a process that worked based on their situations. Some cleaned out their spouse's clothing and personal items right away.  Others haven't touched their spouse's toothbrush or hair brush and everything remains just as it was the day they walked out of the house for a Sunday bike ride or to work in the garage or head out to work for the day.  We all experienced our spouse's deaths differently.  Some after an illness and others so suddenly, it is almost like they were snatched from the earth without a sound.  Regardless of HOW it happened, each of us are finding our way down this winding path of uncoupling ourselves from the marriage, life and love we expected to live until long past our aging grey hairs took over the pigments of our youth.

These little awakenings to my new reality and new normal are roused by each sunrise as I awake yet again, seeing his side of the bed empty.  It shivers when I see his picture and ask out loud "where are you?  WHERE ARE YOU?"  It is the silence and lack of an answer that awakens me again.

I fight that space between slumber and awake, thinking to myself "I am not just Ron's widow, I am me, Nicole."  I must awaken completely so I can fully discover the new dawn, sunrise and start of tomorrow, yet I am not ready to fully escape the slumber, sweet dream state of pretending.  Pretending I am not alone and he is only temporarily away.  Do not awaken me too soon, or I won't have the strength to stand and face the bright sun.  I want to close my eyes and dream, dream of you my love. Maybe it's better if you awaken me tomorrow, Today I will dream.