Wednesday, January 07, 2015

not depression

I'm coming to terms with the fact that there will always be sets of cues or circumstances that will just plain rip my heart open. Yesterday was one of them. I was well enough to venture out for some provisions. Just before leaving, I missed a call on the cell. It was from someone who I haven't heard from in too long. Someone who never called me or acknowledged Jimmy's passing. It hurt then and I let it go. The missed call took me right back to square one.

After venting to my dear sister long distance, I decided that any further negativity would not serve anything. I couldn't be angry. I just didn't have the sap for it.

The outing wiped me out and I came home and crawled under the covers too sick and sad and sorry for myself to even cry. I missed Jimmy so much. His caring, his love, his concern for my well being. I have been out of reserves and running on empty. I was tired of being tough. It would be too much like work to lay down and die. The only thing that kept me going was that my grandson was coming to spend the day the next day. I was needed. And needed in shape to handle the day. So I washed my face and made a point of getting a good night's rest. Safe to say, this little scrap of life is saving mine.

Charlie was five months old on the first of the year and growing and changing while I watch. From the very first time I held him I felt my husband's love, down through our son, to this child and if no one is around, I have a little cry for myself. A joy cry.

Trouble is, I have to stop it somehow because today, Charlie caught me and I could see concern and confusion on his little face. It was quite remarkable. He almost always greets me with a smile. First comes the recognition and then, the emotion, he's happy to see me.

Now I watch him examining faces for cues before he reacts. Already he knows that it's not all about him. He's rolling over in all directions and will probably stand and walk before he's any good at crawling, just like his Daddy and his uncle. .

So after the lunch jug today, he fussed a little and I tucked him up under my chin. I can feel his whole body relax and give over to his need for rest. He heaved a sigh, patted me on the left shoulder three time, crammed his right hand into my cleavage and was asleep. I'll cry now kiddo. Quietly.


  1. Although it is to be expected, I am sorry for your sadness. That is what I can offer, a kind word of compassion, while fully knowing you just have to move through it. Funny how big a difference feeling needed can make. That and the feeling of a sleeping babe on your chest. Best feeling ever! Take good care of you, k?

  2. Deborah,
    I'm just a lurker on your blog, because I like your fiber art, but ever since your husband died, your posts just rip my heart out and I cry with you. I light a candle for you and your husband whenever I think of you (which is quite often), I hope that is okay with you. No point in this reply really, I just wanted to let you know that someone across a big ocean is thinking about you.
    Take care,

  3. Words seem insufficient, but I have the advantage that Ursula said many of the words that I want to say. I don't know you but I relate to how you feel from they way you share openly what it's like to experience grief and the loss of your wonderful Jimmy. Thank god you have that baby. And isn't it just incredible how much you can learn from him?

  4. So very glad you have Charlie to be there for and love... he will grow up knowing your love, and learning about his grandpa from you and your two sons.

  5. I'm so sorry for your sadness. I wish I had words that could help. I'm glad you have Charlie for love and comfort.

  6. Ditto on what everyone else said in the comments.....

  7. namaste'
    (nothing else seems appropriate...)

  8. Mmmmm, no matter how hard it sometimes must be , you seem to be able "to find small ways to be good to yourself and take pleasure in life"
    Also thanks to that sweety grandson of yours :-)

    Wish you a good year, Deb (despite missing so much)

  9. thank you all..and that candle burning somewhere far away means a great deal to me.


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