A few lines I found, a Facebook Post yesterday, and Shakespeare - -
that's the way I like to work to remember where I am - my kind of memoir.
Yesterday I saw a short and touching video on FaceBook of a widower in his 90s who so yearns for his wife who died recently that he wrote a song for her. I was so touched by him and their love story that his words linger with me and seem to have come through in this blog post.
|25th Wedding Anniversary|
I woke up about 5:30 this morning. Swaddled in a warm quilt I felt safe in my cocoon while I drifted in and out of the comfortable drowsy sleep state.
This way I put off that moment when I am fully awake and once more feel the daily emptiness in our bed without Jim next to me.
Was it a dream?
When I hold on to the comfortable drifting I do my thinking. The thoughts seem to flow In and out .... big problems, ideas and dreams. Often I settle on a problem and ask Jim what he thinks I should do about it.
And many times he answers. I don’t mean that he talks to me. That would make me sound a bit crazy. Not that I am not a bit crazy, sometimes more than others. But, sadly, I don't hear his voice
I feel his answers. I won’t try to explain it anymore than that. Anyone that has experienced “sensing the answer” will understand what I mean.
Its true I have a good idea what he would have said about many things. As my life has not changed radically since he died his “take” on things is still pretty accurate. I am grateful to experience that because then I don’t feel as desperately alone.
Jim and I were married for almost 57 years. We knew each other. We grew up and grew old together. We carried each other’s history. A long marriage is truly intimate on many more levels than just in bed.
Today people seem to have lost appreciation for that. I cried yesterday when I watched a short video on Facebook about a widower in his 90s. As he talked about the loss of his wife of 75 years his eyes filled with tears. He told about the song he wrote for her - -about the "good times."
When he said, “its like it was all a dream - but I know it was real.” I burst into tears.
And I thought of Shakespeare.
“We are such stuff
As dreams are made of;
and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1.