Somewhere to Stay

Earlier tonight, I fell asleep in my living room chair for about 2 hours. While I was asleep, I had a dream that I was alone on vacation somewhere warm, walking from house to house and hotel to hotel, trying to find a place to stay. Every place I came to looked special in some way - fun or beautiful or comfortable - but I could never find a person anywhere who could help me. At once place that looked promising and peaceful, I looked into the window of the closed door to find that it was empty inside, vacant as though it had closed or gone out of business.

I have no idea what a dream like this means, but I do know that when I fell asleep in the early evening it was still light outside and when I woke up later alone in my living room, there was darkness all around me. I was disoriented and lonely. It took me a minute to remember what time of day it was.

My dream was like living disappointment over and over. Every time I'd see a place that looked great, I'd have hope that it would be somewhere I could stay. I'd happily walk up to it to discover that for whatever reason, I could not. Disappointment would hit. Then I'd move on to the next place. On and on and on.

I am so close to the end of this first year of grief. So ready for transition and happiness and new beginnings. No disappointment.

I have a terrible, terrible headache, so I think I'm going to go back to sleep...this time in my bed.

Deafening Disappointment

My friend Alicia is here from Michigan. My house is not empty this weekend.

There's still the weirdness that comes from lack of Rick...and I think we both feel it. My emotions come in waves... gratitude for friendship that surrounds me...happiness that I am supported...sadness that strikes me hard...and a new one: disappointment.

I'm disappointed that I can't have the life I wanted. I'm disappointed that I can't spend another anniversary with Rick, another birthday, another Friday night. I'm disappointed that I won't be able to run home and tell him good news...or show up with him at someone's wedding...or go on a vacation this summer. I'm disappointed that the holidays this year will be ruined...that he won't get to see my brother's new house...that he won't get to see my nieces grow up. I'm disappointed that he won't be able to take care of me when I'm sick...or reminisce with me about how we met. I'm so, so, so disappointed.

Disappointment is such a deep emotion. It has a heaviness to it as well as an emptiness. I remember feeling it as a child... that first taste of extreme disappointment, how raw it felt and how unfair. Disappointment cuts deeply and the wound lies open, bleeding. Disappointment follows you around and you just can't get away from it.

Disappointment hurts so much.

I look over at my friend and smile, because she is the kind of friend who understands my blogging ritual...who supports my need to open my box of grief. She sits in the dark with me and allows me to pause the movie we rented so that I can have my half hour to write.

I'm disappointed that I can't tell Rick about what a great friend she is to me.

He already knows, of course, because he knows everything now... but I always liked telling him stories... it's what I miss most of all. I miss recounting my day, sharing my ambitions, discussing lessons I've learned, and making him laugh. I miss his sarcasm and his laugh. He always threw his head back when he found himself especially funny.

Why can't I have the life I wanted? I'm disappointed. I will be the phoenix, rising from the ashes to begin again, but I didn't want to be. I wanted to be a wife, a friend, partner, a support, a lover, and an easer of pain to the man I loved. I wanted to live in this house with him...and kiss him good morning and good night. I wanted to share dinners and watch movies...I wanted to laugh... I wanted to hold him close, every day... I wanted to take trips and drive around... I wanted to dress up and hear him say I looked nice... I wanted to be married for more than 6 years. I wanted to love him more than 7.

There is so much I wanted that will never happen...can never happen. And I'm disappointed.

Yet one of the things I learned from Rick is acceptance. An abundance of acceptance, in fact. Accepting terrible circumstances is difficult, but it is possible. Only by acceptance will I be able to peacefully move forward and shed that shadow of disappointment that envelopes me right now.

Rick would tell me that disappointment won't serve me. There is a time and a place for it, but that time is temporary and that place will fade away. I hope that my disappointment will fade to an ache...and that later still, it will become a resolve...and perhaps later still, it will be a lesson. And maybe one day, when the lesson is learned and my life has reached a close, I can finally share the greatest story of all with my Rick.