A Wild Stallion

Ostara and the Moon of Mourning

Monday gratefuls: Sleep. Kate sleeping in the bed next to me for over 31 years. Kate dancing in her poodle skirt at her 50th birthday. Kate on zoom with her sisters. Kate, always Kate. Finishing taxes. Snow still in the mountains. Our house, Black Mountain ski runs.

Sparks of Joy: Hawai’i. Joe, Ruth.

Two weeks ago today Kate died. Not long at all for an eternity. Up and down. Mostly dull normal. I had one morning where I felt energetic, ready to do things. More than I’ve had in a while, so progress in a sense. I guess.

Lost sleep. Woke up at 3, tough to get back to sleep. Did, finally. Up at 8:15. Rigel was unhappy, wanted to eat, go outside.

Details. Implications. Consequences. Many. At a time when pulling the covers over your head often feels like the best alternative. Glad Joe’s here, helping.

I’ll have two weeks of adjusting to living solo before I head out to mid-ocean. Glad about that. I feel ready and don’t want my first nights without Kate or family after I get back. Not sure how it’ll be. The point. Need to get at it for my own sanity, for my life. The new one. Without Kate’s physical presence.

Sadness colors the background to every thought, every action, every word. Less intense today, maybe more intense tomorrow. I let the feeling come, invite it in. Sit with it. Seeing her cooking. Holding her while she navigated the stairs. Laughing in our stateroom on our round Latin America cruise. Happy. Sad. Up. Down.

Grief is no longer the wild stallion galloping through my canyons, a deafening sound. At least not often. The slightly out of body feeling doesn’t come much.

What happens. A feeling that this time with the grandkids, with Joe and Seoah, includes a not-so-subtle realignment of who we are to each other, to this house. A realization that her voice is missing from the conversation, her wisdom no longer spoken. Though I hear it from her, if I listen with my inner ear. Each encounter, each moment has a slight tilt, doesn’t feel level, somehow out of joint.

When this gets vertiginous, the stallion can come racing through the narrow defiles. Loud. Fast. Raising dust and clouding my vision, pounding my heart.

Realize this seems sorta dismal. Life is a bit dismal right now. It will change, gradually. Over time. As Kate becomes a more comfortable inhabitant in my inner world. As the details get resolved. As life reinvents itself. Yet again.

Hanukkah, 2016

 

 

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