Living Alone

This month has started off rough.  I know in my heart it is because this month is Ray's birthday and our wedding anniversary.  It seems each day brings more pain as I grieve over the loss of my one and only love. 

I'm also dealing with things said that hurt.  One family member told me "You've got a good 50 years or so left."  I don't want 50 years without Ray!  I know in reality my life span is less due to my illness.  My only hope is that I am around long enough to be with each and every one of our "furry kids" at the end of their life.  Then, I will be ready to go.  I used to fear death, now, I look forward to the day when I will be reunited with Ray and our "furry kids" in Heaven.  I know at that time, I will get to see my Grandparents and Uncles again as well.

I think that being a loner has its good and bad points.  While growing up, we moved around a good deal.  I never made "friend" relationships for two reasons.  One is that I never knew when we would pick up and move again.  Two, I did not want to take a chance on any friends being raped by my father as I had been.  It was my way of protecting them.  Ray and I pretty much had each other for companionship.  When Ray's youngest brother died in a car accident over 30 years ago, he pretty much closed himself down to friendships.  We both kept people at a distance.  We had each other.

To be around his two remaining brothers was painful at times.  One told me after Ray had passed, that he always thought Ray was their mother's favorite, which was not true.  She cared for all of her sons, but relied on Ray as he would always take care of things she needed done.  It ticks me off that this brother cannot let go of things that were beyond Ray's control.  Ray once suggested to him that he get counseling to which he replied he didn't need it.  After Ray passed, he told me I did not need counseling, I just needed someone to listen to me and that he would be there.  I have no intention of sharing my pain with him.  His little remarks leave wounds that cut deep.  The other brother appears to be indifferent.  His wife though, can cut a person to the core.  So in this instance, being a loner is much safer for me.

The hard part of being a loner, is not having people to do things with, to talk to about Ray or just to have companionship that comes from friendship.  I do have a few close friends who talk to me about Ray and are not put off when the tears come.  They understand that I am still grieving and that it helps to be able to speak Ray's name.  But, I do not want to intrude on their lives.  They have their families and lives. Another friend is a widow who lost her husband 7 years ago to similiar circumstances. She helps me in sharing her grief and what she has and goes through.  She understands the pain and we both enjoy getting together.  But then again, she has her life, her children, etc...

I do know that I always have God to talk to and believe me, I talk to Him all the time. I thank Him every day for bringing Ray into my life and giving us the years we had.  I know when I am at my lowest, that He hears me and always finds a way to let me know He is here.  I don't go to church because I have not had good experiences in them.  I talked to my Grandfather once about it.  I told him I knew when I accepted God into my heart and have never doubted that He exists and that He is who got me here today.  My Grandfather then told me this (he was a farmer) - "I don't believe that I have to go to a building where another man tries to be the mediator between God and me.  If you believe in here (pointing to his heart) and you follow His words, He will always be there for you." He continued "I cannot get any closer to God than when I am plowing the land out here under His skies."  Grandpa was in his late 70's when he told me this.   He passed away when he was in his early 90's.  He and my Grandmother had been married over 69 years when he lost her to a heart attack.  He then, pretty much gave up.  My other Grandparents I did not know too well.  My Grandmother died when I was 11 and I don't remember her at all, but I did get to meet my Grandfather.  I was 11 and we ended up living with him for a short time. He would order bottles of coca cola and sit on the porch and listen to us tell about our days in school.  He died exactly 4 months to the day that my Grandmother passed away.  I always believed he died of a broken heart just as my other Grandfather did.

I know in my mind that in time this pain may lessen, but my heart is having a hard time accepting that.