We who with songs beguile your pilgrimage / And swear that Beauty lives though lilies die, / We Poets of the proud old lineage / Who sing to find your hearts, we know not why ... (James Elroy Flecker)
Showing posts with label widowhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label widowhood. Show all posts

19.10.21

‘The Days Dwindle Down to a Precious Few’

‘The Days Dwindle Down to a Precious Few’


‘Don’t leave me!’ I said, knowing he must.


“I’ve got no intention of leaving you,’ he replied (knowing he must).


He was torn. After he left, I found journal entries which revealed how he yearned to see his Dad and his brother again. And yet, he also wanted to stay with me.


I was torn too, not wanting him to linger and suffer. I don’t think he did suffer much. He lost feeling in his legs, which had pained him for years. Once they were numb, they no longer hurt. 


In the end, I released him. ‘Do what you must,’ I told him. As he lay dying, I whispered into his ear, ‘Death is the greatest healer.’ 


I got through the first intense years of grief, thanks to my friends, my cats, and my writing. Already it’s nine years ago, and I’ve made myself a life … not so different from the one I had with him, but not identical.


I haven’t wanted to find another love. Except for a brief, miserable time after my first divorce, I had never before lived alone. There were parents, house mates, husbands … now, finally, it was time to be with me.

I’ve learned how I like to be when there’s only me to consider. I was always fairly self-sufficient. I’ve learned to be even more self-reliant. (It includes knowing when to ask for help, and who to ask.)


He pops in to check on me from time to time. Not so much now as he did in the first few years, but if I need him, he’ll show up. The dead are only a thought away.


‘Are you happy?’asked my son some years back, on a visit. ‘You seem happy.’


I thought about it, and said, ‘I’m very content.’


Soon I’ll be 82. It makes you wonder how long you’ve got. I’m not in any great hurry, but – having worked as a psychic medium for decades – I don’t doubt we can reunite. I choose it. (A personal development teacher once told me there’s power in choosing what is so.)


I move forward, at an unhurried pace, towards reunion.





September Song was composed by Kurt Weill with lyrics by Maxwell Anderson.


Andrew died on the 3rd of September, 2012.


This was written for Weekly Scribblings #92: Forward Movement, at Poets and Storytellers United.