This is the day I will again put on my wedding ring. So I decide upon awaking. Why not? Others do, even when their lover, their companion, their world is gone. Nothing prohibits this.
First I try Rich's ring on my right hand, middle finger. Too heavy, too big, I can't carry the weight.
Back to mine, then. Right hand, left hand, but I cannot, I cannot, who do I think I am? Not a sham, this I will not let myself be. I toss it back onto the top of Rich's dresser, to be buried among his clean socks and underwear (what will I do with them?) and the blue knit scarf he made for Ralph, a hundred years ago.
This is the day after Rich's Memorial Service, when friends from high school drove four-plus hours through rain and ice to tell of Rich the football lineman, Rich the smart boy who (politely) corrected the math teacher's errors, Rich the nicest guy who never made a big deal of any of it. And the next speaker was one of Rich's colleagues who confirmed everything we all knew, and then a friend who spoke of Rich's faith, one that was light on the theory but heavy on the experiential.
I spoke, too, though I don't remember much of that part. What sticks are those who filled the Great Room at Hospicare, the abundance of food, the laughter, my joy in our shared love.
This is the day when I listen to the CD given to me by Hospicare's music director, who with harp and voice performed at yesterday's service the song she did for Rich through the summer and into autumn...slumber my darling...the night's coming on...you, you are the world to me.
I didn't know about this lullaby. I know what I miss so much, and who I miss, but how much else did I miss along the way?
This is the day I was going to end this blog. But I cannot end it, not yet, because I will miss all of you too much, and I need you with me along the way.
With love,
Candace
3 comments:
The ring is a symbol, an infinite circle of the fire and the ground of love. It is strong and secure. Is it possible to wear it on a cord, to rest it close to your heart? I am glad to know you will continue to write. You have much to say that we would like to hear.
Fondly, Barbara
What I've always found a little helpful, when grieving, is when someone else is missing my person, too. It means a lot to me to have shared those wonderful memories on Sunday....and to shed tears, and to laugh at the stories. and to be grateful to have known Rich. I hope you can take comfort in the fact that your grieving, while yours alone, is not done in a vacuum.
See, I'm just rattling on....it must be a leftover from the wine?
See you Sunday. Love, Paula
and we need you too, my dear, through the blog or in whatever form! Thank you for all this.... with much much love and gratitude you're in the world, and prayers (in my own way) ... love, Sarah
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