Twittering Tales #159

He could not remember the last time he sat there. Where had the time gone? To start again now would be both a blessing and a curse. To sit beneath this light, pen in hand, the man could not make his mind move his hand. The man had glimpses of the last time; a title, a dedication, even the epilogue, but what was that story? Too much time has passed. Time to leave this space again.

He continued to sit, trying to convince himself it was useless. There were no ideas in his head, no words on the tip of his tongue, no writing at his fingertips. Still he sat, unable to put the pen back in the holder. This was his future, his dream, his lifeline. How could he let it get away like it did?

Finally he decides to put the tip of the pen to the top of the paper. He began feeling his hand move and he could see letters forming from the ink. He would continue like this untill his hand gave up.

The man didn’t know how much time had passed or even what he was doing back at his desk. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at the paper in front of him. Written in cursive, as neatly as his college professor had written, were the words….

(225 words)

Everyone does it differently

So back in June 2018 my husband died. It was unexpected, he had not been sick. He was given a medication to help take care of Lyme Disease and was allergic to that medication. It completely killed his liver. He died having a transplant. They got the new liver in but then he started bleeding and as they tried to stop that, his heart stopped. Three weeks with a bad liver and the rest of your body weakens.

When I had this loss in my life I was devastated. We had our usual ups and downs that every marriage has. I had told him over the twenty-one years of marriage, at least three times, that I wanted a divorce. He argued it, thankfully, and our marriage survived. The last time was the time I finally said I wanted out. He was a good man but we were like roommates, not husband and wife.

Well, Bob was not a believer in therapy. He always felt that he could solve his own problems without delving into his private life with a stranger. When I told him I wanted out he asked me what he could do to save our marriage. “Come to therapy with me this week,” was my reply. “Okay,” he said, no pause, no thought, nothing. This to me was huge. So, long story short we worked on everything, we were given homework assignments, told where we both needed to give a little.

Why do I tell this part of the story? I tell it because before he died we had the happiest year and a half of our marriage than I can ever remember! Besides having our two children, it was the best time of our lives! Then he died.

After he died I heard from a few people I knew that had lost husbands and it was so helpful. It was good to be able to say things about how I felt and they knew exactly what I was meaning to say. I honestly do not know what I would have done without two of these women, two of whom I still check in with frequently.

Jump ahead thirteen months, my son was killed in a motorcycle accident. Oh, he loved that bike. He was a careful driver just because he loved that bike so much! He had been on his way home from work and a truck pulled out in front of him. They did a tox-screen and there was nothing in his blood, he was simply heading home. He was heading to college this fall. Well, for this story I have to stop for now. It is much too painful and writing about it is not the healthiest thing for me right now. I am sure if you lost a child you can understand what I mean.

Since my son died I have met a few mothers who have also lost children. It is so sad that anybody has to deal with this. It sucks. It sucks more than losing a parent, which I did when I was 23. It sucks more than losing a spouse, which I did when I was 46.

The one thing that set me apart from these other women is how we are dealing with it. Do not get me wrong, my way is not better or worse than their way nor is one way healthier than the other. I do not even know if I can explain in words how our grieving is different, it just is. I am thankful to have met these women because they do know what it feels like, how badly it hurts.

I suppose the message I am trying to “send” or the reason I am writing this is because it helps to have someone who knows the pain. Not that I would ever want someone else to feel like this, but I suppose God has his reasons. I contemplated ever putting this out “there” because I do not want it to be a place that I come to and open a wound everytime I get here. I did this because if someone you know, or if it is you, that has lost a spouse, a parent, a child, you can come here, I know….Sadly, I know.