Whoa Woe: MISSING PEACE

It’s quarter to two
There’s no one in the place
Except me and you........

 

And you are just a figment, hiding behind your photo on the night table. You taunt me, memories make me cry for what I’ve lost, for what I have not found, a new, exciting world. What I have is fairy dust. Where is peace of mind? Where is calming sleep? It’s okay to feel sorry for myself, isn’t it? I don’t look for sadness. It finds me, comes unbidden.

 

The widows’ golf cart talk, the lunches and dinners are empty holes. Alone I put a small plate on a tray, add some cottage cheese with saltine crackers, have a cup and tea, finish it, wash the plate, fork and cup and sit down at the kitchen table to play true Solitaire until it becomes unbearable. I am trying hard to keep busy, smile, enjoy my many blessings but nights are too long, too lonely.

 

My daughter thinks she isn’t nagging me but she is. ‘Take a step, Mom. My friend, Frieda, has a nice gentleman for you to meet. She’s told him how pretty you are and talented. Can he call you?’ His description tells me to say ‘No, we will have nothing in common,’ but I agree. I go to lunch with him and he goes out of my life. Thank heavens my tongue was not frozen. Had it been, there would have been no conversation at all for forty-five minutes.

 

‘Oh, god. Oh, Harvey. I want o-u-t. Out of everything! You promised me I’d have a good life. Men would be falling all over me in six months. You were so wrong. Remember when we used to argue and one of us was declared right, the winner made an imaginary ‘chalk one up for me’ motion in the air. My chalk mark is choking me..’

 

The search for a new friend, male, female, who can make me smile again seems hopeless. My still married lady friends stay yardsticks away from me, afraid I will steal their husbands. Stupidos all! There isn’t a husband there who would interest me. I have been replaced in our golf foursome. They new foursome is content and I am glad for them while still being hurt and angry.

 

‘Harvey, you left me so much, three children who are as old as we were when we married, security, good (and bad) memories and a huge cavern in my heart. It feels like Death Valley, dry and dull. There are fleeting times when I manage to accept the now, loosen up a bit but blink and there I sit, next to you, day after day, holding your hand, while chemo drips into your arm.

 

Once I saw you  looking in the mirror on the back of our bedroom door. You had nothing on but your boxer shorts and you tried to raise muscles in your biceps, muscles that you had like an Atlas. You saw my reflection and said quietly, ‘Look, Babs, look what has happened to me.’ Words were impossible. I turned away and cried and cried.

 

Your skin yellowed. You became a bag of bones, hairless. It was  unbearable for both of us. And then you went away. ‘Hear me, Harvey. I miss you so very much. Sleep is fitful. I don’t want to be so sad.’

 

‘HELP!’