Happy every other Day…

I debated writing about my feelings near the V-day, however, it is a pretty obvious hollow day for a lost spouse with no partner.
It’s not my first Valentines, alone, without him, but it still sucks.

I should point out that John and I never observed Valentines’, per say. My thought was that one day a year wasn’t possibly enough to show the love and he agreed. So I got flowers randomly throughout the year – granted one of those random days was around February 14th, and I may have given him cards bought in February, but it was always “Just Because”.

I miss those no reason days. No reason to show your love, except that you are in love. We just were.
It was the mot peaceful, the most obvious thing in my life, despite the humdrum of those inevitably boring times, despite the upset of our later days. We just were. In love.

I’ve got to be careful now, about that L word. I miss it so much. I miss being in love, even though I still am in love with him, it’s a love that goes into the universe and doesn’t come back. It doesn’t laugh with you, it doesn’t kiss you back, it doesn’t hug you until your spine crunches, it doesn’t lift me off of my feet anymore. It exists in a void.

I must be careful not to just go looking for someone to bounce the feeling back for the sake of it being reciprocated. My choice in men was not always the best before I met John. I had three good choices. I had my 3 Rs as I call them. They know who they are. Insanely too young in my emotional maturity for one, not interested in a family for the other, and the sun to his crazy moon for my 3rd. I’m grateful these 3 are still somewhere in my life. The rest of my choices were just a hot mess.
The 3 Rs remind me I might not always match, but I can still “go” together if that makes sense. They are still good men.

But when I met John, I just knew. He was the One.
Cheesy, but true.
I just knew.
Love at first sight? Yep – I guess so. Although one doesn’t recognize it like that – it’s more like “WTF was that? at first sight”

And there we were, ignoring V day because only fools celebrated one day a year. We were so much luckier. We had all year.

Where does that leave me now?
Running. Thinking. Cleaning floors, talking to my cats, wishing they would just stay still and wear hats.
I have loves: my family, my friends, my garden, my airplanes, my home, myself.
Yes. Myself.
I’m trying to love me. I really am. But sometimes I can’t even look at me. I see an old, sad person who can’t ever be in love again. Not without him.

I still haven’t attempted to read the “Second Firsts” book by Christina Rasmussen. i just can’t.
I know I must.

Every week, I try to write down an emotional release phrase to myself. Something that comes from ME not a meme. Something to encourage hope, growth and potential acceptance to a possible future with love and hope.
This weeks’ is “don’t be afraid to WANT to be loved”

I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s on the inside of my cracker cupboard, so in case my quote sucks, hey, I have crackers.

I think my dilemma of a ‘second first’ lies in the fear that people will think I’ve forgotten about John if I love someone else – someone alive. I don’t want anyone to think that the ‘someone’ I might find myself with is the person I initially had life plans with, the person I thought I was going to grow old and ornery with. He was the person who knew me through and through. I don’t like the word Widow, but I want people to know I WAS John’s wife. I have my doubts that any ‘new’ man will be able to accept that my heart was broken beyond repair, that I will forever have the image and thought of John in my mind and my heart.

I can’t ever expect to meet anyone that can put up with my journey of never ending healing – and I’m not sure if I want someone. I know I don’t need anyone.
But I mustn’t close myself off – after all, I never, ever thought John existed. I’m glad I told him that. I remember the last time I did. I never thought someone so perfect for me could exist – and even more so, want to exist with me.
I just wish he’d stuck around longer.
I’d wish him a happy Valentines’ day.
Every Day.

Gotta Run

One thought on “Happy every other Day…

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