The storms of life like comets come,
They bring with them the blues
They sting you with their mysteries
the scars they leave are clues
But when a whirlwind took my love
I could not turn the page.
My brittle heart had been laid bare,
to heaven fisted rage
Proverbial seasons - I'm aware, I'm aware.
But death is a season of despair, deep despair.
With the comet came the rains
The storm intensified.
With the rain came memories
brought tears to my tired eyes.
When that angel took my love,
I begged him for relief.
He said that I must travel first
to places dark and deep.
Grief has its stages - yes I know, yes I know
But death just enrages and it grows, and it grows.
The sky will once again be free
The signs will fade from view.
But I'll look to the heavens
In hopes that I'll see you.
Yes I'll look to the heavens
In hopes that I see you.
Feb 19, 2017
Thirteen Weeks
There have been many changes.
I am on a new anti-depressant regimen that keeps me from having anxiety and panic attacks. This is good since it was such a panic attack that brought on a near-fatal heart attack for me. Don't need to add another one of those into the mix.
I have sought counsel from my doctor, who I've known for over 20 years and whose advice I trust. My last appointment, when asked the reason for my visit, I replied "I just want to sit and talk for a bit". My doctor is very good at listening and helping me with the stressers that one goes through at a time like this.
I have been working diligently on my home. Painting, moving things into storage, selling a few things, etc. But still not touching Laura's things. Those decisions will not be faced until at least June. I'm sticking by my promise to not make any decisions on her possessions for at least six months.
I cry a bit less now, not only because of the drugs, or the time that has passed. I'm getting to a point of remembering the good things that have happened for us over our forty years together. I'm remembering things that are near and dear to me, events that we shared, concerts that we've attended, family reunions, even some of the bullshit that we dealt with - together. The one phrase that constantly runs through my mind is when she would always say to me "we're a team - we'll make it through this together". It comforts me. I've known people who were married as long, if not longer than we were who never seemed to reach this place.
I still hear her voice. When I'm doing laundry, or trying to cook, I hear her guiding me (although she still has yet to reveal that secret ingredient that she used to put into her green beans). When I make a decision to move furniture in the living room I can hear her telling me to move it back a few more inches, or to the left a bit.
Some things that haven't changed - her stuff is pretty much where she left it. It was put there for a reason and I don't need to move it.
I still miss her very, very much. I'm still in a kind of shock that she was here and suddenly gone so quickly and unexpectedly. I still tell her daily that I miss her and that I'm sorry that I didn't know to get her to the hospital sooner. And I still let her have the last word when she told me "I love you more" as they were taking her into ICU that night. She did and I know it!
You can't just let go of forty plus years of a voice and a presence. And she was most definitely a presence!
I'm telling stories about Laura to some of my co workers and friends, some who had the pleasure of meeting her and some who didn't. She left many great stories for me to share; from her long-standing suffering as a Carolina Panthers fan and the obscenity usually screamed during the games to her legendary attacks on anyone who disrespected either one of her children (especially obnoxious high school coaches).
It's good that I can laugh when I share these stories. I also firmly believe that every time I think of her or utter her name that she is still alive, simply because she lives inside me.
There will never, ever be another like Laura Welborn Reid - and you can take that to the bank!
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