It was cold last night. In the low to mid-forties.
I covered my vegetable plants. But both my chartreuse and purple sweet potato vine look a bit haggard this morning. I hope they’re okay. Hard to imagine that kind of weather in May.
When it rains, the boughs of the tree sweep down way over the wicker settee. My dark little spot on the patio. Still the bees and wasps and butterflies hover over the white flowers, but not as many as there were that one day.
Isn’t it interesting how nature has a schedule, and all nature’s creatures abide by it? The birds know when it’s time to nest. And the butterflies know when the tree blooms white flowers. The laws of nature might as well have been written in stone.
Today is the one year anniversary of losing Abi. I can still recall the last night I spent with her, knowing the next day she would be taken from me. Waking up that morning, telling myself to enjoy her fully and tell her I love over and over and over and holding her close. Then watching the light dim in her eyes.
I thought losing her was going to kill me there for awhile.
I miss her still. Grief is such a strange and intense thing. It takes over your very being and holds you in its clutches for a long, long time. And then, as time passes and memory dims just a bit, it gets easier. It’s one of those one-day-at-a-time sort of things.
I had this awful dream last night. My ex was in it and in the dream he was leaving me for his girlfriend. But in the dream my children were young again. He wasn’t their father, so of course dreams have a way of mixing things up and changing time related events.
In the dream I recall how frightened I was, because I didn’t know how I was going to support us. And he was being tedious about helping out.
Fear, I think, has a taste. It is coppery. A bit metallic on the tongue. You can’t wash it out.
Shock is much the same. Fear is the result of something scary. And shock is the result of something surprising. But the feeling they evoke are of the same intensity.
Like someone is gripping you by the shoulders and forcing you to look into an abyss.
I read a book the other day about women forming a group to communicate with one another via the internet. On the surface the group seemed to be about knitting, so the spouse/partner wouldn’t be threatened.
But once you were a member and received a password, you were taken to another group where women spoke of their real life. Where they commiserated with and tried to help one another.
They talked between them about plans of getting out, leaving their restraints behind. But fear is what drove them to trust one another in this anonymous fashion. Because home had become a place of violent outbursts and wearing long sleeves to cover bruises. Someone they loved had become someone they feared.
I don’t know if this statistic is true or not. But in the book it said that once you divorce a man with these tendencies and then get a restraining order is the most likely time he will kill you. Leaving is a time of real danger in those situations I know.
I guess that’s truly when the rubber meets the road. The time of reckoning.
The woman works up her courage and takes a chance. And either she makes it out to the other side, or he pulls her back in. Or worse, he kills her. Why does this happen so much?
When you spend the bulk of your time alone, you think about a lot of things. I cherish my solitude because I truly need it. But it’s also when I work out a lot of things in my head.
Many people rush through life from one event to the other and I don’t know how they function. I guess it’s habit. For many I suppose it could be loneliness.
Loneliness has never been a factor with me. Charlie and Ivy and I have a good thing going here. I miss my Abi. But I will always hold her in my heart.
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more”