breath of fresh air

My heart is pounding with happiness and emotion- I can't explain how I feel...
I took a chance - outstretched my hand - and jumped...
I feel light as a feather (Synonymous to the feeling of just walking out of the confessional for all you fellow Catholics!!! Hee Hee)

Thank you Justin, for the courage you have given to me...one person has that power, it's true.

I'm ready to share my feeling ...my words...the ones that have transformed me into who I am...that have helped me to face yet another day. What would we do if we couldn't express ourselves??? I never want to find out...

To follow are my journal entries...the rawness of my being...the overflowing of my heart in my most desperate of times following the death of my husband Paul...


Entry #1 3/06/05 7:50 pm

I am beyond feeling, an exasperated version of myself, that hides within the fearful corners behind the locked doors of my soul- of His- revealing the plan.

Shrouded in a veil of acceptance, unable to change this bewilderment, the cold, dark forrest of anguish beckons me to stay in its damp solice.

A refuge?

It is, in its own way, from what will eventually come to pass...TIME. I am a slave to it for if I stay locked away it will not pass, so in turn, the pain will linger. But if it is to flow, as fate would have it, I am forced to stand before the locked door and graple for the one key that will ultimately open the chamber- the hidden room where we will meet if I will allow myself to see without seeing, believe without reason and trust as I did once before.

My old self...Will I ever bear a likeness of Her? No, for she has been transformed by a hurt that few sustain.
Stronger day by day- weaker in the shadows of the setting sun. Bound to face the unfacable- MYSELF, and the dark recesses of my soul.


Entry #2 3/20/05

I visit this place everyday, its inevitability chases me down- hunts me as if I am it's prey.

Please say I don't have to experience this pain yet another day. I am weakened. My body, now fragile-exhausted with grief. My face-old, hardened by the tears that have saturated every pore, that have incised fissures of flowing water, penetrating my soul.

How do I face this life without You? The magnitude of this loss is overwhelming. It wakes me in the middle of the night and plays horrible tricks on my brain, forcing me to relive every detail of our past over and over-Our dreams and hopes and promises to oneanother.

Is this really happening? I can't quite comprehend the purpose- the purpose of Me. Why am I still alive? Without You- what is the purpose?


Entry #3

Every day another leaf falls away from a once beautiful, lush and vibrant plant. It sits on my bookcase, housed where I keep the most wonderful memories of my life. The dead leaves fall away from the branches- crumpled and dry- lying lifeless- submitting to their fate.

So, everyday more leaves fall away- lifeless to the touch. It is as if this plant represents me and the slow death that is to be faced- that is eating away at my insides like a cancer.


Entry #4 7/11/05 (At the Beach)

I have lost touch with reality...not all the time but in waves. Waves that hit me like a brick when I face up to the truth that you really are gone forever and are NEVER coming back. My mind is twisted, as are my thoughts- polluted by what-ifs and scenarios of what could have been if things were different- if You were still alive.

Time has passed and taken with it some of the harshest of pain. I can now, at least, face the day without becoming sick within. My crawling skin and screaming brain have calmed a bit- more than a bit- for now.

Am I dealing with this? Are you really gone? Living is like a joke. I am ready and await the day , the hour, the minute, the second that I can be in your arms once again and escape from the worry and desperate loss I feel every single day.


Entry #5 8/01/05 8:45 pm

Spring has passed and summer is in full bloom along with every emotion that makes up my inner being. I find myself still confused but somewhat tolerant of the truth. With every passing day comes a new emotion- alternating, if you will, between good and bad, happy and sad. They're all really quite random- sneaking up on me without warning, without a clue to their intentions.

The unbearable rawness and gnawing of loss has significantly subsided. Yes- it is still quite raw but now I feel as if I could at least stand myself- look at myself - be comfortable in my own skin for longer than a minute. The shock of loss is lessened although an ever-present tingling remains, a constant reminder that each day is not a dream but a new day to face without Paul. I cannot hide from the fact that he is gone from my earthly life but rather, I anticipate the day when we will be together once again like we were ALWAYS meant to be.


Entry #6 8/08/05 8:13 am

I've come to realize that EVERYONE has their own story, their own secret to tell.

When tragedy struck, I thought, for the longest time, that I was the only one dealing with pain and hurt. I felt like I was glowing neon when I walked through a crowd- that somehow everyone would know/see that I was different. That feeling made me so uneasy, so vulnerable, so envious of their "normal" lives.

How could I have been so blind? Consumed and clouded by my own pain made me ignorant to everyone elses.

After speaking with friends and also complete strangers, I began to realize that I wasn't the only one to be going through a horrible experience. Stories of loss, hurt, betrayal and pain came to the forefront- visible now, only because I also was tainted.

It eases the whole burden to know that there are people who feel like I do- who know what I face each and every day.


Entry # 7

Its been over a year now and I finally set pen to paper in order to pour out more of my soul in inky passages. Like water pouring out of a faucet, more than two years of emotion has poured out of me into an open expanse of life- My everyday twiddlings and to's and fro's.

The hot and cold of my emotions have become less frequent. I can say now, more of a luke warm feeling eminates from my being. I tried to become, as my mother would say, "even-keeled" with the occasional spike or lul here and there. It's been hard at times to control that temperature gauge but the feeling - or "knack" of it - has become more natural. A quiet moment, time alone, steadied breathing, a whispered prayer - all these coupled together equal, in some way, peace.

PEACE- now there is a word I love. I find it in certain places. My sister Heather, the deep breathing of my dogs as they lay snuggled beside me or when I'm lying on my bed on a weekday in the afternoon and the winter sun shines through the window pane and touches my face.