Widowhood 101: Pictures of You/To Wish Impossible Things

Stuck in neutral, gunning the engine. I want to do, go, achieve, finish, start  – and I am instead sitting in front of my computer, doing the same meaningless actions over and over again, letting time unravel and trying to avoid the cave-in, the feelings around, the pressure of, the immensity of loss.

His presence, him, he is not here. Pictures don’t bring him back. Memories fail, and fall into things better left alone, for now, and the gulf between us – oh, how wide it is, and how very far away he is. If he is at all.

He is always with you.” No, he’s not. His half of the bed is not slept in. His wedding ring is on the dresser.  His car is in the driveway; it has not moved.  He is not here. He is not here. He is not here.


About Vicki Caroline Cheatwood

Writerly. Rebooting. Evolving. Searching for great chicken salad.
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5 Responses to Widowhood 101: Pictures of You/To Wish Impossible Things

  1. Betty says:

    Vicki: I know we have communicated some on FB, and I in no way to assume a deeply personal relationship. BUT…I need you to know that I have been living on the fringe of your journey all year. Since Mark departed this realm, I have been struggling with how to get through to you how seriously I take your words. Your reflections. Confessions, and directions. I worry if I am letting my Scott know how much I love him. Want him. Need him. Do I let everyone that I love know often enough that I do in fact love them? Can I ever get you to understand how so very sorry I am? I feel like I owe it to you. To Mark. To all who mourn the love they made their life with. This post; this song. I want to hold you so tight. I wish I was your best friend so you could crawl in to my lap and I could somehow hold you there long enough to mend all the hurts. It’s absurd, I know. But I am desperate to share my heart with you.

    • What a huge, wonderful, good heart you have, Betty. I do feel your love and your good wishes for me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Healing is just going to take some time. I was talking to my therapist today and she was encouraging me to “live without an agenda,” as much as possible to just let the day unfold. I know this is the way to work it, work through it — I wish we could live in Act 2 Emily Webb mode, but we can’t. It would kill us sooner, I think, if we felt that much all the time. So, we breathe through it. Cry out — and then thank the universe and the good people in it when they extend a hand. Sending you love & light, and peace. Thank you for your words.

      • Betty says:

        I think I love your therapist. 🙂 And that comment bids me to recall the mantra of a a friend of mine in recovery; he is “living life on life’s terms.” Thank you for understanding the spirit of my comment. And thank you for sharing your world with us.

  2. sandy haley says:

    Vicki, Your words put skin on pain and make it real enough for anyone to feel. I’m sure it’s painful but it’s a wonderful gift you are giving to others. hugs, ~sandy

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