together - no more

metal art purchased from an art fair in Dixon, 2017

Yesterday I wrote, but didn’t post, about the struggles I’ve had these last two weeks… days filled with a sadness so heavy, there have been times I could barely move, let alone think.  And function? Not well…   

Yesterday was 4 months from THAT day.

To say it has been rough is an understatement - and  it has been compounded by Vespa’s demise and the death of 2 colleagues, on top of all the other losses of friends and family these past four months.

It seems that each subsequent loss only makes the prior ones all the more raw, painful, almost impossible to bear. The sum is always more than simple addition, loss seems to multiply, like rabbits, or a different system of numbers.  2 + 2 does not always = 4, this time – more like 40.

And so today I packed up Hunter and his accoutrements, (he does NOT travel lite…) and hit the road – no specific destination in mind – I just needed to be gone.  I also wanted to acclimate him to traveling for a length of time – prep for the future road trips.

Well, if it hadn’t been for the doggy Xanax, it would have been a disaster. But eventually, after chewing his leash apart and trying to drive, he calmed down and we were all good.

And so I headed north and west and ended up in Bellevue, Iowa at the park just outside of town.

As I wind my way up the hill to the lookout point, I see an elderly couple walking along the road. Slowly, both bent over from age, but upright enough and walking nonetheless. Together.  In the park. When I pass them the first time – no wave, no acknowledgement.  When I pass them later as I leave – a smile and a wave - nature lovers all - and they had seen me walking Hunter – so I must be ok if I’m a woman alone and have a friendly dog… right? Right. Of course.

And then it hit me…… this is what WE used to do – this is what WE had planned to do for years to come.  Walks in the park, together, sometimes holding hands sometimes not, but together nonetheless. Together in our dotage.  Like this couple. It seemed obvious to me that they had been together a long time… just the way they were with each other. Comfortable, at ease, familiarity born of years, a history shared, a life lived: together.

Now was I reading too much into this split minute view of another couple? Maybe, but I don’t think so.

And it hit me – that gut punch that takes your breath away - waves of sorrow crashing over me: no more, never again.  Whether I find companionship at some point is not the issue – the time remaining in my life precludes a 38+ year relationship that speaks of this kind of comfort and familiarity.

No more, never again.

But then… I stop at the grocery store on my way home – and run into another new widow.  A woman I know – her husband too – who died suddenly with no forewarning – no time to prepare for the inevitable.

 Death rears its untimely head yet again. 

And so I offer words of condolence, inadequate, I’m sure.

We share our communal grief – a hug – and I’m on my way and she hers …

‘No more…’ I want to scream.  Stop already – enough is enough…….. !!!

And then I remember, ‘oh yeah, God is not a micromanager… She doesn’t just yank people out of life – nor does she ‘fix’ things that are best left up to us.’  Although a positive fix would be nice now and then…thank you very much...

But still, the ‘no more, never again …’ is hard to accept.  For me, for the new widow in the grocery store, for the countless others who have loved and lost, grieved and mourned. 

I know I am not alone – but still, the ‘no more, never again’ is almost impossible to bear.