Facing Truth
I like to brag that I’m the one who held him up,
kept the marriage going, the roof over our heads,
stood by him through his addiction, the DUIs,
the embarrassment he was at family gatherings.
He was lowered into the ground in September
and in December (or was it January) I thought
what weighed me down was gone. No stress,
no empty bottles under the bed, in the nightstand.
Such a heady sense of freedom. Little bouts of
depression came and went, came and went,
then came and stayed for days. What the hell
is wrong with me? An honest friend reminded me:
"He surrounded you with love, his pride in you
a form of worship. His tears when you were so ill,
thought he would lose you. On your darkest days
his arms the warmest refuge, he held you up."
© MCM 2018
@ProudMary, I feel you. Long marriages are made of many things. There's give and take on both parts. If there wasn't we wouldn't remain married. Sometimes we prop them up other times it's the opposite. But they are always the ones who are there when we are sick or afraid. And we always expect them to be there. Until they are not.
Sad that love and loving are no guarantee of happiness. You don't say if you loved him, or were simply unaware that you depended on him. When I was a kid an older sister told me about something called Star grass; it's prickly and annoying, but it grows well in marshes and its roots anchor in the morass: if you get caught up in the muck, you are so glad of a clump of star grass to hang on to- Maybe he was your star grass. You are honest enough to acknowledge relief at his passing, and that too is natural enough as it is usually the 'fight or flight' stresses we notice first. But then, when that faded, what is left may be what you truly felt. Try not to feel guilt, but celebrate what it was that you cherished, though it may seem at times that it was precious little; it may grow as you move on.
@ProudMary yes, sad - but loving and being loved is a wonderful thing and part of being human is an occasional failure in timely appreciation. If his love was as strong as indicated by your friend, it was for him enough. Grief is hard enough without compounding it with regret, though I admire your courage in its expression.
There is this syndrome not sure of the name. It goes like this. A train goes through the town every day at the same time rattling walls and shaking beds. One day the railway decides to reroute the train to make it more efficient. Everyone in the town calls the police station to complain that something is wrong not one of them can cite what is wrong just that they know something is wrong. You also were on a drug, not one you can buy or even see it was called anxious.
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