Widows & Widowers Support Group
This community is dedicated to those who have lost a husband, wife, or partner. Anything is open for discussion here, with the hope that we can focus on grief, bereavement, life after loss, and continuing on after a great loss.
Head down, merely walking along the beach, marvelling at the tiniest seashells, exquisite designs so like each of our intricately designed personas, unique delicate colours. Able to withstand the harshest waves crashing all around them, shimmering, with such breath-taking fragility. Yet constant, timeless. Every so often you find a shell penetrated, cracked, forever more unable to heal. How did they come to be so when nearly all the other shells are intact?
I was not looking for you, at least I dont think so. Suddenly there you were. With childlike abandonment you took my hand and enveloped me in your world. Your excitement swirled around me, tumbled about I was caught in the intensity of your sea storm of energy, enthusiasm and of course, fervour. All at once enslaved, overwhelmed by your magnetism, enthralled by each new facet I discovered. How could I be so alive, being pushed and pulled in every direction, yet discover this deep-seated profound sense of peace, which had everything to do with you? Perfect, I imagined it would not end.
The more I sought, the more you fulfilled. The more I craved, the more you supplied. Like an addict, each time just a little more. Please. Just a little more.
Inevitably, your reticence provoked, your tide ebbed. Steadily, the undercurrent pulled the soft sand out under my feet, until I stumbled in your surf. Without regaining my footing, I staggered after you, pleading, but you were receding so fast, you didnt stop to hear. Falling to my knees, I could never quite grasp on to you, water slipping through my fingers, desperately supplicating you to come back to me. In vain. You were lost to me. You left ripples in my heart, the only evidence you had ever been.
Subdued by the furore of your receding storm, I should have realised the tide might return, but I couldnt see it, like an addict. I couldnt see it. Hunkered down, hard of heart, as a rock in the surf, your surf, your waves crashed all around, relentlessly, indifferent to my presence. Ceaseless ebb and flow, endless, timeless.
Where before, only the iridescent colours of the sea shells were visible on the shore, after the tumultuous undercurrent had swirled murky waters with newfound intensity the tumbled fragile sea shells were now only shattered, scarred and for all time no longer whole. I understand now that this is how they come to be so. How I came to be so.
I was not looking for you, at least I dont think so. Suddenly there you were. With childlike abandonment you took my hand and enveloped me in your world. Your excitement swirled around me, tumbled about I was caught in the intensity of your sea storm of energy, enthusiasm and of course, fervour. All at once enslaved, overwhelmed by your magnetism, enthralled by each new facet I discovered. How could I be so alive, being pushed and pulled in every direction, yet discover this deep-seated profound sense of peace, which had everything to do with you? Perfect, I imagined it would not end.
The more I sought, the more you fulfilled. The more I craved, the more you supplied. Like an addict, each time just a little more. Please. Just a little more.
Inevitably, your reticence provoked, your tide ebbed. Steadily, the undercurrent pulled the soft sand out under my feet, until I stumbled in your surf. Without regaining my footing, I staggered after you, pleading, but you were receding so fast, you didnt stop to hear. Falling to my knees, I could never quite grasp on to you, water slipping through my fingers, desperately supplicating you to come back to me. In vain. You were lost to me. You left ripples in my heart, the only evidence you had ever been.
Subdued by the furore of your receding storm, I should have realised the tide might return, but I couldnt see it, like an addict. I couldnt see it. Hunkered down, hard of heart, as a rock in the surf, your surf, your waves crashed all around, relentlessly, indifferent to my presence. Ceaseless ebb and flow, endless, timeless.
Where before, only the iridescent colours of the sea shells were visible on the shore, after the tumultuous undercurrent had swirled murky waters with newfound intensity the tumbled fragile sea shells were now only shattered, scarred and for all time no longer whole. I understand now that this is how they come to be so. How I came to be so.
Martha "Jean"
Peace, TIm
Blessings -
Darrell
nanne