I have been reading your posts but not been very talkative. I came back to France about a month ago and have been busy getting ready to leave again for my next job appointment in one of the overseas territories. I had not been back since Gilles' death 19 months ago and some of the things I had to deal with triggered a whole lot of emotions and all types of memories flooded back. It was good to see his family and my friends again and familiar places. I decided to take some quiet time today and just be myself. This is what I wrote:
COMING BACK
I came back to where home was with the secret hope that you would somehow be waiting in one of our places. I saw your face in your brothers But I didn’t find you. And my heart was broken twice.
I rummaged through our belongings and sorted in hours a past not far removed My hands held what you held My fingers brushed the life we shared But I couldn’t touch you. And my heart was broken twice.
I turned the pages of your beloved books imbued with the warm familiarity of your spirit and your mind But the here and now of you escaped me I could not grasp you. And my heart was broken twice.
I sat at your tomb that I spruced up and replanted I recounted events and questioned where you were and sought your answer in the muteness of the stones I did not hear you. And my heart was broken twice.
Good to hear from you. Your poem resonates with. I am struggling with clearing out my home. I am okay to let things be i.e avoiding clearing some of my husband's stuff out. Perhaps I should read some of his books though...
I do want my home redecorated which means I need to have a clear out/tidy up. Its heartbreaking to do but also, I know I need to do it!
Hope that your next overseas appointment brings a new adventure for you.
I went to the storage we rented and had to sort our things there in a cold, impersonal place. As soon as I saw everything, I broke down. Getting rid of some of the furniture was not the hardest thing; it was his books. I actually went through box by box to choose which books I would keep and which I would give away. Gilles loved his books and has a hard time getting rid of them even when the bookshelves were becoming too cluttered.
I'll tell you a funny story. When we got married and he brought over all his books, he pointed out 2 or 3 that dealt with the Amazon and the Amerindians. He was always fascinated by the Amazon and dreamt of going to Manaos, the city in the jungle. I'm going to teach in French Guiana. The very first box I opened had, at the top, a book entitled Amazon-Orinoco. Was that pure coincidence, or was it somehow written four years ago when we packed up our things that that book should be at the very top of the pile and that that particular box should be the most accessible one in the cubicle? Sometimes you have to wonder about signs and guides and things pre-ordained.
Clearing out things is heartbreaking. Take your time so you don't have any regrets later. There's no rush. Maybe you can start redecorating the parts of your home that will require the least bit of decluttering. I couldn't get rid of his clothes. I kept them all, practically. I guess it's because I didn't have his things around me after he died. I had to leave France a month later to go back to my job. Everything will be shipped to me when the time comes. If I like it over there, I'll try to buy something and settle down.
Good luck with your redecorating and try to enjoy it.
Will let you know how things go. I'm leaving Aug. 17.
Ah, the dreaded question, "how are you, how are you doing?" It's months since I've been on here. I guess I'm doing the same as you, Darkhorse. As far as everyone else is concerned I'm doing very well indeed, my God, I am a walking miracle of Coping Well. They did not truly know how we were, what made us Us, so how can they possibly understand that I don't want a new beginning, an alternative. I want what I had, and I just can't have it. So I smile, and chat, and never make people uncomfortable so they can go on their way and think, "she's alright". They may even think I didn't love him all that much, I seem to have got over it so easily.
That will continue forever, I guess. Pretty grim, but at least I have had years and years of love and happiness and laughter and joy. I am using those reserves. x
I'm stuck there, too. It's been over two years and I just can't. I can't stop missing my husband with a pain that is palpable. I do my best, I smile when I have to, But, I'm lost. I lost part of myself with him. I've lost my creativity, I've lost my joy. Will it come back? Who knows. At least I don't fear my own mortality anymore. When my life ends, I hope it will mean I can be him again and forever...
"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) ..." Life must end, but love is eternal.
only someone who has been where we have been knows. We pull the wool over their eyes because they wouldn't understand 
