August 30, 2015, 7:10 pm, after only 5 weeks from being found, cancer took the love of my life. I have never recovered. I have a sense I do not have time, on this earth, to ever do so. Oh, we put on a good face, we do, and say we are stumbling through. But the reality is, we will spend some years trying to recover that which is lost, and the rest of the years, accepting that we cannot and living with that sorrow. It does not take away from new births in the family, happy events. It just means we can not respond as deeply and fully as we would have. Loss is a great hole in the soul where light leaks out. It is hard not to look back and long instead of looking forward in longing.
For five weeks, I nurtured, encouraged, cared for him at such deep intimacy. We both knew, this was the last time for everything we did. The ammonia from his cancer would go to his brain. Over the five weeks, it happened so quickly. I was not prepared for Richard to be gone from me so quickly. I could not grieve, surrender and accept so quickly. I wept copious tears for this gentle, sweet, funny man, that happened in my life and I had so deserved someone as wonderful as WE were. Once you find that special someone that goes beyond physical, intellectual, emotional and resides in the spiritual, to lose them is to let so much of your own life spill out from you, forever. There is a forever longing that defies any other grief to ever try to top it, seriously. I have known grief. This beat all.
Within 24 hours, I was out of the house and every sign of me removed. My friends had collected me during the night of frenetic packing. I had only them and I am so not one to deal, easily, with my emotions in front of others. I am the wolf who crawls off into the forest to heal or hurt alone. I was grief-crazed, the only solace was the full harvest moon, rising big-cheeked and warm. I had stood out under her loving flood of soft light while they removed my sweetheart from our house. I have never felt so empty in my life.
My daughter flew down the next day to collect me and to organize shipping all my belongings across the US. I was so much an empty vessel and nothing would ever fill that space again. As we got to the airport to leave, one of my best friends said, “Don’t look back, you aren’t going that way!” I left all I had known and loved, for 12 years, behind. I left every answered dream and hope and wish behind. I had been so comfortable with US. I have gimped along every since. That next place is but blink away but so far it is that waiting is taking forever. I am grateful that I know he waits and I will feel his abiding love again. It sustains me. I look forward to it. It will be easy to shed this mortal shell when the time comes. Experiencing such depth of emotion has changed me forever. I always have something yet, to experience; something I almost long for, betimes, not in a maudlin way, but in such an empowering spiritual way. I have had many reasons too grieve in my lifetime. I lived loud and large. I have had such adventures. I have many reasons to feel guilt and wish I had done things differently. And, I have learned to turn away from that which bends me to my knees. There is something more and yesterday is gone and absolutely not retrievable. We learn to accept substitutes that pacify us for a time.
When life gets as tough as you have ever had it, don’t look back. You are not going that way.
©Carol Desjarlais 2.19.22
I have a great deal of bits and peices of bakgroudn papers, cardstock, and card-making papers of all sorts and sizes. I have saved little boxes of such jst for the purpose of collaging with them. soemtimes I tend to draw more than a smple palcement sketch. This usually gets me in troubke because I am beginning to script what happens when I paint. But, I keep trying, I guess.
The painting takes over one I start collaging materials, and in no time, an art journal page is compelted. I lvoe love loe making color choices one does not often see toegher. There is something magic in the drum and clash.
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