Friday, September 23, 2011

Searching. Not Running

Ron used to tell me that I think too much.  I used to tell Ron he did things without thinking.  Perhaps that is why we made such a good match.  Ying and Yang, Gracie and George, Mutt and Jeff you get it.

I have been doing a lot of thinking, so much so that sometimes my head hurts.  People will say things to me.  These questions and comments cause me to think and think some more – ‘What are you running from?’  ‘ How are you doing?’  ‘What are your plans?’  ‘When do you go back to work?’ ‘You don’t have anything holding you back.’ ‘You will be fine, give it time.’  ‘Take time to heal’ and so on and so on and so on.

Upon reflection of the past seven months I have come to realize that I have tried to take grief by the horns and wrestle it away.  I put a time constraint on when I should have been back to normal.  First of all, Ron and I never knew what normal was so why would I know what it is now.  I beat myself up for not having finished grieving and clearly moved on.  In July it was like I had to start over again.
I have also realized that my past experience with people who have lost a spouse has been minimal.  Nobody really teaches us about grief.  I do exactly what they have done.  I put on my happy face, I dress to feel good and out I go.  The optics are that I am OK.  That is good because that is what I want you to see.  Often it is like I am playing a role. 

The reality is that behind closed doors, or in my case below decks, you have no idea.  I have shed enough tears to sink Ta Daa.  I have agonized over why.  Why Ron?  Why now?  I have writhed in the pain of a wounded heart and soul.  My eyes have been opened not by what others have said or done but by my own gut wrenching experience of losing my beloved Ron. 

Since our first date, Ron and I always had a plan.  In fact, we had Plan A, Plan B, Plan C  D E F... Z.  With a blended family of four kids, more than one plan was necessary.  Ultimately our plan was to sail around the world.  It is out of character for me not to have a plan or a goal. It is unnerving.  The truth about a plan is that I am at wits end without one but at the same time afeared of making a plan.  I am afraid of making unwise choices.  I am afraid of commitment to a plan.  I am afraid of letting people down.  The other reality is that nothing entices me.  My heart and soul are hollow and empty.  There is not an ounce of passion in my bones.  The only things that have brought me pure joy are the children in my life, being out on the boat and Winston.   I do believe that passion will return I just do not know when.  Until then, I will continue to fill my days.  I will continue to put myself out there. 

I have come to realize that everything connected to me and Ron has a story.  More often than not it was a funny story.  It may have not have started out humorous but we made it so.  Why?  Because were Ron and Janice.  It is what we did.  You could point to almost anything on the boat and I could tell you a story.  From the solar panel arch to the wine glasses to our wedding vows in Hawaii.  Lately on the boat I feel the stories.  I miss making new stories with Ron.  I miss it so much so that when I look at something, I am whisked away by its story and then I cry my eyes out.
Where I am going with all this is that my life is one huge void.  I am missing Ron, the touch of his hand, his love, his romance, his smile, his laughter, our laughter, our conversations.  The abyss feels vacant and endless. I have not been running; I have been searching.  Searching for something to fill the void.  

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