sunset – In the Woods

to live with loss

The reality is you will grieve forever. You will not “get over” the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal, and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never the same. Nor should you be same, nor would you want to.
~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross & David Kessler
(On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss)

I have found these words to be true. It’s thirty-four years now since my mother died and I have healed and have learned how to live with that never-ending feeling of painful loss. After my father died twelve years ago, grief was much more familiar to me and I more quickly got used to feeling like an orphan. But now, to be a widow.

I miss my husband so much. How is this much pain even possible? The loss feels like it’s cutting even deeper than the loss of my parents because I intimately shared my life with this man for more than fifty years. My days are full of memory flashes, as if my brain wants to watch the video of our whole life together in bits and pieces. (I think in pictures.) So I pause whatever I am doing, recall the scene, cry a little, talk to him a little, and then try to remember what I was doing and carry on.

Sunday evening I took another very long two-hour walk with my friends. It was cold and the atmosphere felt like it was going to snow. It was magical. (It did snow the next day in some places nearby, but not at my place.) Very healing and I am so grateful for their love and support. We were still out there when the sun set. A good memory.

middle summer

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for after.
~ Natalie Babbitt
(Tuck Everlasting)

solstice sunset

This year Tim & I celebrated the summer solstice at home, just the two of us. I spent the day preparing side dishes, potato salad, cucumber salad, etc. Unusual for me as I’m not fond of cooking, but it can be fun once in a while, for something special. There was anticipation in the air because when I went to buy salmon in the morning, the fish guy (a butcher sells meat, who sells fish?) was excited because he had some rare wild white king salmon to offer me! His enthusiasm was contagious and so I bought it.

When Tim came home from work we cooked our dinner together, poached salmon with dill sauce, drank some mead one of his coworkers brewed, and listened to my new summer solstice playlist. The salmon was very good!!! Then we were off to feed the kids’ fish and cat, and then we went to the beach to watch the sunset. Returned home and had some more mead while we watched the movie A Midsummer Night’s Dream by candlelight. ‘Twas a lovely evening!