In the midst of telling you about Bob, I never got a chance to tell you that we spent last weekend on the Cape. Due to a series of interesting events the owners of the house we rent offered us a weekend this fall and we snagged it up. It was quite different to be there in the cooler weather and we enjoyed it a lot.
We had a fire in the fireplace on Friday and Saturday night. It was cozy and lovely, the perfect setting for snacks and cocktails.
We went to Cape Cod Beer to fill some empty growlers and discovered that it was Oktoberfest. There was a live band playing polka music, plenty of beer, and knockwurst. Yum. It was a great way to spend an afternoon.
We played cards, of course. We went to the beach and took a long hike in the woods. And watched TV and listened to music and all of the other things we enjoy doing.
When we got the phone call about Bob one of my first thoughts was – we need to go home. I even asked Dale if he wanted to go home and he said “why would we do that? Nothing will change if we go home.” He was right, of course.
And, as it turned out, being away in our little Cape Cod retreat was actually a blessing. We were together and that right there was a gift. Dale pointed out – imagine if I got this call and we were both at work. We had the privacy and space to feel all of our feelings, to make phone calls to our kids, to cry a lot.
We were in our own little bubble and, as it turned out, that was good because going back to real life? Rough. People are wonderful and the tributes for Bob and support of our friends and colleagues has been amazing. But still, I am reminded of this time right after my mom died – I was at the grocery store and I looked at all the people there, going about their business and I thought, “don’t they know? how can they just act like nothing happened? my mom is dead.”
Right now I wake up every morning and my first thought is, Bob is dead. It’s like a punch to the gut and it doesn’t go away during the day. When I’m working or attending a meeting, taking a walk or preparing dinner, driving my car or enjoying a glass of wine, it’s always always part of me. It’s good – pain is part of healing – but it’s brutal.
I didn’t meant to talk about this again. I started out writing a post about our weekend on the Cape. Thanks for listening.
Talk away. Glad that you and Dale decided to stay – sometimes the bubble is the perfect place to be. xo
Those bubbles of time can be a saving grace, for certain.
When we loose someone close to us the shift in our lives feels so unsettling. In time we adjust,but the feeling of loss is never very far away. We simply need to embrace these feelings and honor them as true and real.
There is nothing like being at the beach in the off season. An entirely different experience, and it sounds like your timing was just right.
It IS a punch in the gut and it sucks!! It’s so very, very hard to lose those that we love.
I’m praying for all of you, that you may have and feel peace. Sending you hugs ??
that’s the thing about grief…but that’s also the thing about friends being there to listen when you need to share. your weekend looks wonderful. I love the beach when it’s not so brutally hot and sunny and instead a place of peace and beauty. (perfect timing, I think).
I was at work the day after my brother-in-law’s funeral (he died of melanoma at age 29) and started crying because I was so angry that everyone could just carry on with their lives after everything had changed in such a terrible and tragic way. I think we want the world to stop, but it doesn’t and forces us to keep going. I’m glad you and Dale had some time in the bubble.
You express your feelings so well. We can all relate perfectly. Life is very hard sometimes.
Please talk – you need to get it out. And I was just having a similar conversation with my sister in law about this same thing yesterday. You see other people going on with their lives and it almost seems unfair. But that’s how life is. I am glad you did get to go to the Cape and it was a blessing – you were where you were meant to be.
Keep talking. XO
(Remember a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about “living between parentheses?” That’s where you are right now. Between the parentheses. Be gentle with yourself.)
You’re still processing and you can take as long as you need to deal with your grief, because it will dictate the way you feel anyway. Love you, grrlfriend. Sending hugs to you and to Dale from both of us. xox
Some people, when they go too soon, leave a hole, a person-shaped space in the universe that is very present by its absence.
Gosh, I know that feeling. That, how is it that the world is still spinning at all? feeling. Had it with both parents. Not looking forward to it with older siblings, my best cousin, pets, and even, maybe someday, my husband.
Just hugs!
Please continue to talk. I lost my Grandmother earlier this year and am finding things that I’ve struggled to express expressed beautifully in your writing. So, thank you for that. I wish you the comfort of your memories even if they also cause pain.
Please keep talking, writing, and sharing, Carole…that’s what friends are for. I know the feeling of waking up each morning and thinking this is all just a bad dream. And life cruelly (or thankfully) goes on as if nothing has happened…while your universe has crashed to a halting stop. Where is the “good” in “goodbye?” And God help the person who says “it happened for the best”…which too many people do after an illness of any length. Do they really listen to what they’re saying? It’s not “for the best” for the survivors who lost their husband, father, brother, best friend, etc.
The journey through grief is gut wrenching and takes time…lots of time. You have this journey ahead of you because you and Dale were fortunate enough to have loved someone very special. Without love there would be no grief. Hopefully the love of family and friends will bring you both a small amount of peace during this very sad time. Please keep writing…I’m sure we’ll all be here for you for as long as you want to talk about it. Love and hugs…today and always.
Losing my mom this summer, i know how you feel. I kept looking around and thinking : why didnt the world stop? And being able to handle it privately helped me immensley. I am very sorry for your loss.
I love every photo you take!