Today would have been Susan and my 19th wedding
anniversary and our 23rd anniversary of being sweethearts. I am
right in the middle of my ‘season of bad anniversaries’, a time of sadness and
remembrance for me.
And while there is now some distance between myself and the
pain of losing Susan, I still struggle mightily with the whole concept of the
value of my life, specifically its value to myself.
I struggle with the idea that my best day in this
current life will NEVER be anywhere near as good as my worst day when
Susan was alive, and it is difficult for me to believe, even after nearly three years, that this will ever change.
Of the 46 years or thereabouts of my adult life, I was in
committed relationships for 38 of those years. Not all those situations were
ideal, but at least I had a sense in those situations of what my purpose was. I
was a ‘husband’. In my relationship with Susan I was also a stepdad. I
identified myself as those things. To me there was no higher calling. I can
still identify, of course, as ‘stepdad’, which is an incredible honor. But the kids are mature and wise adults, with families of their own, having built wonderful lives for themselves, and their need for my
input and/or support is by no means a daily necessity.
While the grieving part of my life has more or less settled
down to periodic episodes, the ‘reinvention’ part is a complex and bewildering
process, for which I have not a clue. Each day can often feel like a futile
exercise in pacing the cage, waiting for the end. And to be truthful, there are
moments when the end is an awfully enticing concept.
In spite of the fact that I have many wonderful friends and
family members without whose friendship and support, life would be pretty
intolerable, there is still a massive hole in my life created by the loss of my
partner, my beloved Susan, and that is a hole unlikely to ever be healed. Life
with her was uniformly fun, full of love, laughter, kindness and the occasional
adventure. And it was not just me who lost when she died, the world lost a
brilliantly talented artist, therapist, punster, mom and source of light. And
while it is true to some extent that some distance has grown up between me and
the pain of losing Susan, there are moments, (writing this being one of them)
that the pain takes on a palpable, physical dimension, very difficult to bear.
So, as you can see, the process of self-reinvention seems
daunting almost to the point of impossibility at this point in time.
That all said, I know my beloved would want to keep at
trying to figure it all out, she would not expect me to fold up like a cheap
suit. I have really never yielded to
fear, or to despair, and I am not about to start now. So, I will keep marching
along, and trying to figure out the ‘reinvention’.
To my dear beloved, wherever she may be: be at peace my
love, know on this special day that you are loved, know that you made a
tremendous difference to so many. You
never got a chance to hear this wonderful song that sort of sums up my
feelings: Paper Aeroplane by Kasey Chambers
I’m just an
old man,
My hair is
thinning,
My head is
spinning,
I cry myself
to sleep at night.
And Lordy,
lordy, though no one hears me
I know
you’re near me
You will
always be my wife.
Some days
make me
Feel weak
and shaky,
Some days
fly by me,
Like a paper
aeroplane.
I hardly
notice
That the
world’s gone crazy,
But
nothing’s clearer
Than the way
you said my name.
I shouldda
let go by now,
I shouldda
let go by now,
But I kept
your brownies,
And your
golden honey,
I smelled
your flowers,
And I saved
your money
I held your
blanket
Close for
hours,
And I
painted my heart blue
But I did it
all for you.
I’m just an
old man,
My hair is
thinning,
My head is
spinning,
I cry myself
to sleep at night.
And Lordy,
lordy, though no one hears me
I know
you’re near me
You will
always be my wife.
Paper
Aeroplane by Kasey Chambers.
MPC 09-24-17
