~ Looking Back ~
A Free Write on Loss and Moving On
As I approach the three year mark of John’s death, I find myself assessingg more closely where I am - as I’ve done each year. Evaluating what I’ve learned and being thankful for whatever progress has been made.
Today I noticed that each morning lately, as I walk into the living room to crawl into my laptop and get to work, I go to the window and draw back the sheers. I enjoy taking in the street activity without the blurring of the curtains. I’m still barely visible as my chair is tucked in a corner well back in the room. I see it as a sign of progress in becoming comfortable in my new identity, my new normal.
The first year, still in shock I now think, I flew alone to California and enjoyed two road trips on my own - all to visit family. All the while wrestling with a million questions, thoughts and feelings, yet determined to accept what I could not change, find my way and do it well - to honor the long marriage so much of my self is rooted in.
Year two brought a health set back, now remedied, which curtailed all travel and emphasized the ache of doing life without my love. In it, my ‘I can do this’ bubble burst and has never returned in the same way. I haven’t ventured far on my own since. I became even more than before, a reclusive hermit. Happy enough and thankful, yet extremely uncomfortable and self-conscious in unfamiliar (and especially old familiar) situations. All the world felt unfamiliar - even the warm familiar of our old home became a silent void of what once was.
Year three I found it easier to be seen. I re-discovered my beautiful front porch and spent long summer hours out there with my books and writing. Offering a smile to passers by if and when I’d catch their eye. One young man once stopped to mention he had a laptop like mine and loved it. Later in the summer he stopped again to say he’d miss me - he was moving, joining the girl he loved. I said goodbye and wished him well. A few visitors from the nearby B&B stopped to say hello, and neighbors with their dogs would nod. I guess I was the old lady on the porch who’d smile and wave back at you! I no longer felt conspicuous, rather a small part of the community.
So now I observe from indoors. With the curtains open, people passing are no longer fuzzy shadows walking by and I enjoy a clearer focus on my world. I wonder if they notice this small change. Not small to me, it marks a comfort level with my own sense of becoming complete again. Different. Not the old me. Rather, the ‘comfortable in my new skin’ me. More ready to interact and meet new situations with less angst.
Each year I find I'm more ready to leave the old wrapped gently in it’s place to visit, meet new friends and form a new familiar. I wonder what year four will bring. One day I’ll have to leave this old home I love, we loved. I think I will be ready when the time is right. Meanwhile I’ll watch the world go by with this new identity I am adapting to. Today there are few folks out on the sidewalk and those are bundled warmly against an early frigid snowfall. The day is dark and snow is falling although most trees still hold their leaves, now laden heavily, their limbs as well all coated white - as soon our whole world will be.
And I’m inside and warm. Stocked with all I need. At peace with myself and thankful to Godde, I've become a Happy Hermit! So blessed.
JoMae
11/11/19
Fond thoughts and memories today of my dear Aunt Jo, born 11/11/11 - my namesake. Josephine (although my dad thought it too long a handle and I’ve been JoMae all my life)
