Friday, January 28, 2011

We need to talk ....


I'm adjusting to some of the changes of living without my precious Vern in my life, but what I'm missing the most these days is having him here to talk to. Even when he wasn't feeling well, we talked. If I was at work and needed to share something, we talked.  On the drive into work or back home, we talked.  When I arrived home, we talked about our day.  And during the last few years, neither of us got much sleep - so we talked through the night. He was the other half of me ... he always helped me to see all sides of an issue, to work my way through problems, to heal my heart when my feelings were hurt by others' insensitivities or when I was faced with making a big decision.  I need him now.

So many times each day something will happen and I will think, "I need to tell Vern" ... and then the jolt of realization hits me and my heart hurts once again with my loss.  I know this isn't unusual. We talked about it last night during my online bereavement group chat and others have the same experience.  Knowing this is normal for widows doesn't make it any easier, however.

So I talk to Vern ... sometimes out loud, sometimes just sitting in his chair with my eyes closed and the little extra bag of his ashes held close to my heart.  It helps sometimes, but it isn't anything close to enough. But it's all I have.

I'm facing a really big decision that I can't discuss with anyone else and oh boy do I need Vern. I have absolutely no doubt that he would ask the right questions and say the right words that would lead me to know the right choice to make.  So I'll talk to him this weekend about this issue and wait for him to give me the right answer.

... and to explain the photo accompanying this post ...
My fellow caregiver/widow/bereavement group/Facebook/blogger friend, John, posted about a photo of their "second wedded kiss" in his blog and it reminded me of this photo of Vern & I.  It brought me a smile this morning.  A nice memory of so long ago (August 23, 1969) when I was just 18 and Vern was 28. The beginning of our wonderful life together ... 41 years ... I so wish there were 41 more years to come.

3 comments:

jaloysisus said...

How lovely, Dianne, the picture of you and Vern kissing is almsot exactly the same as the one I wrote about today. I just love the total abandon of those kinds of pictures. I see you have Vern's birthday coming up. I worry about stuff like that. Gwen's birthday is October 9, also, on October 22 this year it will be 50 year ago that I met her. I know Anne doesn't like us to talk about this kind of thing on Thursday nights, but I find it helpful.

feresaknit said...

I know it's different with a parent but I still find myself after nine years, thinking occasionally, my Dad would like that for Christmas or oh, he'd like to know about that. And I think this may sound odd but since he had to go I'm almost glad it was before I got MM.

Good luck with your decision Dianne. In the past when I've had to make decisions I was unsure of I've always known I've made the right one because it feels like a weight has been lifted. xx

Susie Hemingway said...

Sending good luck vibes for any major decisions you have to make. Try to imagine Verns voice and his words to you and it will come. Can your son not help? Chatting over these things with another sometimes helps to find the right decision path. It is one of the most painful things I find not being able to talk and then see his eyes for the answer. With H as soon as the sentence left my mouth, I would know what his answer would be. Keep on with the chatting, the answer to your decision will not be far away dear Lady. Just one little note of warning, never make any important changes to your life, until you are really sure you are able to make the right choices, recovered some and stronger x
Sending love.