It's been thirty-eight days or it will be in eleven minutes. I count the seconds, minutes, hours, noting that I have survived. I wasn't sure I would. I'm still not. A million times I've prayed to go to sleep and wake up in his arms. Heaven or Hell, it didn't much matter to me. I know that sounds unchristian of me and I can't imagine a man like Bill not being welcomed in Heaven, but I swear if I thought he was in hell I would think of something really bad to do and not repent. I am waiting now for lightening to strike. It wouldn't be the first time. No really, I've been struck before. As a kid I was standing on a neighbors stone porch behind the stadium. I was watching the storm and holding onto an iron railing. The noise was horrific and the impact knocked my off the porch. I landed on the patch of grass between the street and the sidewalk, disoriented but pretty much unscathed considering it had to be maybe thirty or forty feet through the air. Ironically, I love storms. I love the wind and the charged ions in the air. I love the dark, swirling clouds, the majesty of nature. I love the rain, but don't like it driving into my face. I want to be able to see. Bill's death was something like that. A force of nature was in play and I could do nothing but watch heartbroken, helpless and horrified as the storm played out. I don't like helpless, not at all and it's not a feeling I'm used to. I thought I was tough, a force to be reckoned with. Now I realize it's easy to be tough when you have a 6'2", 200+ plus man who has your back no matter what. I'm having a hard time making even the most mundane decisions without him which is odd considering I thought I ran the show around here. I guess I didn't. I guess in his own quiet, loving way he led me in the right direction. Bill had a wise old saying for every situation. My country boy had a way of putting things in perspective with a sentence or two. My mind continually asks him what should I do? Today this is his answer: "If you want to run with the big dogs, you have to learn to pee in the tall grass." I don't want to run with the big dogs and I'm to short to pee in the tall grass. I'll get a wet ass and I have enough problems. I can almost feel the warmth of his smile. All right, I'll try and pee in the tall grass, but I'm not going to like it. Not one bit!
2 Comments
Stevie
10/14/2016 04:12:16 pm
Love you too.
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This page is now my blog/journal about Widowhood. I'm not qualified to give advice. I'm new at this. I don't want to be qualified. I don't want to be a widow, but no one asked me. These are my thoughts, fears and feelings. Please don't equate them as anything but that. Archives
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