Pressure Blood

So here I sit.

  • 61
  • Widowed
  • Lasting PTSD
  • Anxiety Disorder ebbs and surges
  • 193 lbs
  • 5’7” Tall
  • 34” Waist
  • Eyes – still blue but cataracts so thick I can’t drive at night or during the day, read street signs. Sitting in front of a computer all day is strenuous on my energy as I try to focus my eyes on my work.
  • One replaced hip – one due to be done in a few years.
  • My right hand continues to feel the pain of fracture after your death and my fall to the ground breaking a rib as well.
  • My virus friend – Lupus makes its home above my right eye now a red splotchy crescent moon.
  • Our wedding ring finally fits on my right hand – the two leaf rings that mirror each other – hopefully I’ll be able to wear yours soon.
  • Gay – but sexuality is on the back burner as I work on increasing my reserves after you were wrenched from my. Our life closed like the slamming of a front door.
  • Blood Pressure is somewhat high. A year and a half of drinking grief away has its down side. Look at my face and stomach
  • Isolation has it’s benefits and down side ( I just yelled slapped the dog (baby love) for whining for no apparent reason).
  • The pandemic lingers out there – some say it’s just a cold now, others warn of death and all I can think of is how those that didn’t sacrificed themselves for the better of the community as a whole. Those rugged individualist who deemed themselves strong and invincible created a black hole that made our lives unbearable and ultimately moved your death to the front of the line – not from the virus but from a stray bullet in a world war only the other were facing… we tried to protect ourselves.. I shut myself off from those to keep you alive and myself… We lost. Your brain tumor would not go away (we got 95% of it)…

The chitter chatter of family holiday talk – echos around my house… lonely and alone – missing you – missing us. Melancholy has overcome me… tears are welling soon to drip down my cheeks. Why oh why did I answer the phone when I saw it was Mary Ellen. Happy in her life so much life in her life – her boys their girl friends and Kevin… all swirling guppies enjoying their time together as they should. Celebrate that time. So much action and so much healing to be done at 1033 3rd Avenue. I’ve begun and taken many steps – but it seems the healing continues slowly, silently, lashing out at times my anxiety whips the air around me…then grieving my actions, my lost life of “us”, I immensely lament my outburst… Oh my dear one. My love, My Songan, My Steven, my husband…

I must build a life or die trying….