Friday, March 13, 2009

That’s my girl…

Lately everyone has been asking how I am doing. Good question.
How am I doing? I am not sure myself anymore. Some days are good...some not so good. But I am laughing more than crying, so that is something. I wake up feeling good and am trying to enjoy life and play as much as possible. I am doing things I never would have entertained doing before, like archery lessons.
Simply put, I am living…

The best way to describe it is that my thoughts are more like a quiet sadness now. I have fewer days of the earth shattering pain. They still come and they still knock me down with the force of a storm, but they are becoming shorter and the clouds and rain tend to dissipate faster than before. I am still moving forward, even if some days it is a more circuitous route.

I still think of David all the time and continue to talk to him frequently, but I find our conversations different now. Not that he ever really responds. No worries, I am not koo-koo for cocoa-puffs. But I continue to talk to Dave a lot . I do believe he is listening in some capacity, like he always said he would. I remember way back when, what seems like a lifetime ago, when he told me that he would always be there listening, he just might not always be able to respond.

But I digress...
We talk a lot, but I find myself chattering on about the day now. Or Alec. Or something entertaining that I know he would have appreciated. I talk more to him now. I do not plead as much. For the pain to end. For his return. For him not to be dead. Because I know that there is no return. There is no turning back the clocks on this one.

I do not scream at him as much anymore either. I am guessing he was always bemused by my tyrannical outbreaks. It is not that he ever wanted to die; he fought like hell to live. I know this. But he died and I used to yell out because I missed my lover. Because I was scared. Because he died and left me alone, raising our child as a single parent. Not that he had a choice, but I was in so much pain and I hated that I was stuck here on this rock without him. But now, I tend to smile more when I think of David. His love still gives me strength and I think always will. I will carry him with me always and he will be with me on every new adventure I embark on. He is a part of me now…

Just the other day as Alec and I were dancing around the house “Shaking it” to Metro Station I just had to laugh. As Alec squealed out “I love this song!” I could just see David swirling amongst the stars smiling and shaking his head, because I was converting the poor kid to my music. It made me smile from ear to ear. Because when we are having a good day, I can feel his love and joy for us and our life coming through.

I wish like hell every day he was here with me to experience a warm sunny day or dance in the moonlight with me. I miss my love and my heart aches for him. But I know he is here. He will always be here…wherever I go and whatever I do. Not the way I ever envisioned, but nothing in life ever is. And every time I fall down and get back up again…or smile and laugh at the universe, I can just hear him saying, “That’s my girl…”


At March 13, 2009 12:24 PM, Anonymous Roads said...

Keep enjoying the music, Skye. I find that over time, I've adopted a lot of 'her' songs for my own.

This week my boy is learning to play 'Run' by Snow Patrol -- a couple of nights ago he cracked the lead guitar line. And then this morning he played the melody on piano.

Meanwhile, all I can do is strum a few rough rhythm chords, but we sit up there close to bedtime, just like two old blokes chewing happily on a pint of bitter.

She didn't even know this music, and the band probably were in infant school back then (well, Dundee University, but you know what I mean). But I find myself thinking, she's enjoying this.

Did I mention that we've got tickets to see Snow Patrol live at the O2 Arena on Monday? Or did I mention that just a hundred times?

Two young and excited teenagers and this slightly older one can hardly wait. It keeps me young. Or at least, I like to think so.

Spirits up!

At March 13, 2009 1:00 PM, Blogger Satine said...

I am so proud of your choice of words and state of mind and so happy to hear the grief is not all-consuming every waking second now. And laughter is such a wonderful medicine. Last night I watched "My Fair Lady" and forgot just how much humor is in the movie and laughed so hard! I needed it too.

I've recently had memory flooding back to me from years and years ago that I must have somehow blocked out and I don't know why or how, but I did, and when it comes flooding back I have bouts of saddness. But, like you and your new archery lessons, I've just signed up for horseback-riding-lessons myself. I always liked horses but never thought I'd have the opportunity to ride more than one time every few years. That is changing now.

And that quiet saddness you refer to, and also the earth-shattering-pain of before, it is as you say, that you are moving forward even thought you'll be knocked down still here and there.

I've always understood it to be good for any of us to "talk it out," "write it out," or "paint it out..." whatever the case--just to somehow get out all that you feel and it's good to hear you are talking to David. Although everyone has their own opinion about where we are after we pass on, I am sincerely glad to know you are communicating everything.

Your sense of longing is something that translates feeling in your writing to such a degree that I long for you as well! I have my own longing, but when I think of yours I honestly sometimes wonder if it's possible that I can take a degree of your agony away from you and experience it for you instead... because I really wish that I could somehow release you from this pain all together, but then your experience is so multi-faceted and I realize a person cannot actually withdraw pain metaphysically... I just wish I could. I wish there was something I could tell you I know without a doubt 110% for sure is coming along so that your longing and saddness would be able to come to an end. I can tell you that the all that I was taught at camps, seminars and convetions growing up illusrtates to me that you will see David again one day. I don't have so much faith as to believe in the details of how it will be or when it will be and I can't prove it to you, but I'm pretty sure it will come someday, and I think when the day comes all of our hearts will hold so much newfound happiness that I don't even know if tears will be enough to release all of the heartache and let go of the saddness we felt from before... but won't it be wonderful if the prediction is right?! :) I'm not a "church-goer" nor do I mean to ever pursuade someone to believe anything but what they want to, but I do have a few spiritual beliefs myself and try to live a spiritual life in my own way. And even if only one more person has this hope, isn't it still a good thought?

At March 13, 2009 1:46 PM, Anonymous Al said...

I take comfort knowing that David is in Paradise, and the grief we experience having lost him from this world is a mere fraction of the sorrow he undoubtedly feels for us. He has no worries anymore, whereas we have our daily tials and tribulations. Even if God granted him the option to return to Earth, who would voluntarily chose to leave Paradise.

I encourage you to continue conversing with David. He is near you, even though you cannot see him. He hears you, even though you cannot confirm it. He will be there when you need him.

Have faith. Be strong.


At March 13, 2009 2:18 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have been wanting to email or post and ask how you are doing seeing I haven't seen a post lately. However, I know for me there are 2 reasons for delayed posts: 1) things are just really stressful and I can't even know how to put all my thoughts into words or 2) things are going ok and I'm enjoying the days, listening more to the music and enjoying the twinkle in both of my children's eyes. For some reason, I knew for you it must be #2.

I had this 6th sense that although life isn't at all what you imagined and by far you still miss the most important person in your life that you are doing ok and working through your days with more smiles than tears. Ok, maybe it was Facebook more than my 6th sense but it was good to know.

Sometimes life isn't what we hoped but it does feel kind of good when we make the most of it in the best we know how and eventually we smile more, laugh harder and sometimes even enjoy it. I'm glad your days are better so deserve it. I'm sure David is having a ball watching you and I have to whole heartedly agree with you that he is saying proudly "THAT'S MY GIRL!"


At March 14, 2009 11:14 PM, Blogger Star said...

I am glad to hear you are at the same point I am. I almost feel weird to feel good. Like "okay, where is that black cloud hiding at?"

I am glad I am not alone in this moment of relief.

At March 16, 2009 9:15 AM, Blogger poodlesue said...

I ran across your blog as a link at a friend's blog. You sound like an amazing woman. I lost my Mom on June 22nd, 2008 to stage 4 lung cancer. Her journey was amazing as was your David's. I struggle with the grief I feel. Other people's blogs help me to understand. Thank you for your open and frank writing. I'm sending you a hug.

At March 16, 2009 2:29 PM, Blogger Anna said...

I came across the link to your blog on another blog too. I had a dear dear special friend die on Jan. 23, 2009 of stage IV lung cancer, after he fought like hell for 18 months. Reading your blog has helped me. Thank you. You seem like an amazing woman - one with incredible strength.

At March 19, 2009 8:23 PM, Anonymous Mark said...

I had to check out Metro Station. Not really my kind of music, but it was pretty good. I can definitely see how a kid would like that song. It's catchy and perfect for jumping around.


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