I grew up in Southern California and had a fantastic childhood. My dad built and raced sailboats when I was very young. By the time I was old enough to know anything about sailing, he was finished with racing and was a weekend sailboat captain. We spent so many Sundays on the sailboat. I don’t remember how big our boat was exactly but it held me, my two sisters, and my mom & dad quite comfortably. They were good weekends filled with family, saltwater and fun. I’m sure my sisters would tell you differently since they were older and probably dreaded the usual trip to the marina they had to endure instead of hanging out with their friends.
On our way home, we’d exit the freeway on to a loop that seemed to spin us around in the little VW. Mom and Dad up front, my sisters in the back seat and me in the carpeted compartment behind the back seat. As we went around the loop, my dad would always say the same thing throughout the whole loop. “Whhhooooooaaaaa Nnnnneeeeellllllliiiiioooo!”
Whoa Nellio ~ that’s a good term to explain my life the past couple of months. It’s been a strange ride for sure. My husband of 31 years passed away on March 13, 2010. I still can’t believe it. We were supposed to grow old together but he’s not here. I try to act as if I’m ok but I’m not. I know people want to hear that I’m fine, that each day is getting better. Hell, it’s what I want to hear. I recognize that I’m not dealing with my grief. I’m actually afraid to let go. I blink away my tears, I turn the radio as soon as a song comes on that reminds me of him, I medicate myself at night so I don’t have to lie in bed thinking of him. Anything to numb myself when my thoughts turn to him. I’ve got plenty of tricks up my sleeve and rotate my methods. One night it will be my doctor prescribed generic Ambien, another night it might be an over the counter sleeping aid, another night it’s a few glasses of wine. Anything to avoid lying in bed and letting my sadness overtake me. I know it’s wrong but I’m so afraid to completely feel what I know is below the surface. I tried it tonight. I tried to stay up later than usual so I’d be tired and fall asleep easily. But sleep didn’t come. Instead the tears started to flow. It’s supposed to be healthy to cry and grieve but why can’t I let it come? Why do I feel the need to push it aside? I think I’m afraid that once I let go, it’ll be hard to stop. Who’s there to comfort me and tell me that it’ll be ok? Who’s there to put their arms around me and assure me that things will get better? How does one begin to reconcile the grief and move forward?
I’m so thankful for what Al and I had. We had some crazy times in our lives and never stopped loving each other. We built a strong family built on unconditional love. I know my kids will be my guiding light and get me through this. We are a flawed family, one that needs to work on some internal issues but one that will always be that…..family.
I’m hoping this blog will be a healing tool for me. I’m fairly good at expressing myself through written words so we’ll see. This is a first step. My tears have dried and I feel a strange sense of calm right now. Maybe sleep will come. Maybe Al will come to me in my dreams. Maybe I’ll write more another day and keep moving forward. I think I’m ready for the ride.
