If you’ve been following my blog, you know I lost a husband to a woman in Florida. You know I still love Guy despite the betrayal. Guy opened his heart to me and my heart answered back. I credit him with teaching me how to totally love someone with all I have to give. I discovered I have a lot to give.
Enter Mark. We dated for two months. Then I got the call this past Friday, “this relationship is not working for me.” I am no longer his “little Egyptian Princess.” I am a Queen in my own castle with no king to answer to. I am a vessel of love that radiates at the windows to my castle, and skips out the front door when a stranger calls. I embrace strangers with my stare and welcome them because they have no preconceived ideas of who I am. Love can be love for five minutes.
One of the best things I have done as of late is to not have had sex with Mark. I am so relieved and thrilled about this. Had we had sex, I would have felt violated. Two months is not a great deal of time, and if you know you’re going to end something, end it. End it cleanly.
I think I’ll remain a Kingless Queen for a while. It is good to be doting on Grams and Annie. Although they’re cats, the still cuddle up next to me for naps. And Grams likes to sit in my lap as I write.
I don’t feel alone in my castle. I conjure up people that I love who have died. I believe I am of them just as they are of me. I have silent conversations with them. I bask in the attention they give me. I tie my shoelaces and leave my castle as they wish for me to do. There is a large world out there. I am to miss nothing. The glitter on the pavement shines. I won’t get lost; I will arrive.
Does a broken heart ever heal? Or do we simply move on, glass at our feet, ever reminded to wear shoes? How long before we can actually go barefoot? I know “how long” is different for everybody. I am still wearing shoes, although I have found new love. One man doesn’t replace the other; it is more a continuum. Things moving forward in an upward spiral is much better than things moving backward with one stone being heaped in a pile of other stones. The stones are the weight that brought death to VIrginia Woolfe, an amazing writer, who walked into the water never to arise again.
I had a pile of stones, and then borrowed a power drill from God, and turned the stones to dust. This dust, although bagged by me, sometimes shows up on my skin right before a shower. I have a continuos love for Guy, my ex, but have climbed into that upward spiral. This doesn’t mean I have left Guy behind. Quite the contrary. Guy taught me I could love. My forgiveness of him, my love for him, continues to fuel my life. I know I have love for Mark because I have love for Guy. I’m really at a loss as to how to make sense of this.
My love doesn’t compartmentalize itself. It is free flowing energy that is increased by loving many. However, Mark is the prime beneficiary of my love. I don’t wish to return to a pile of stones. Life continues to surprise me. I glow in the shadow of elms. At night, when all the shadows have been eaten away by the dark, I thank God for both Guy and Mark. Having love twice doesn’t fatten me. I feel light. My spindly arms are not frail and reach for…well, I don’t know exactly what. But it’s ablaze, I do know that.
I have been working on my second book. Still no title for it. I am 260 pages in. It feels good to be writing agin. After my break with Guy, I found myself unable to concentrate. What does it mean to find oneself, able or not able? Is it like finding oneself in the dark, trying to count change? My height at six feet allows me to see over a crowd. I find it freeing to have my head raised and visibility good. I am finding myself with sight and my ass in the chair, ready to write.
Loosing Guy was devastating. 14 years is a long time to be with someone, at least a long time for me. A quote from Marianne Williamson speaks to how I involve myself with Guy today; “Dear God, I place my past in Your hands. Please purify my thoughts about it. May I only remember the love I gave and the love that I received. May all else burn away in the alchemy of forgiveness.”
I have forgiven Guy because it was necessary for my spiritual development and relationship to God. I have also forgiven Guy because, much to the chagrin of many of my friends, I continue to want Guy in my life. We are friends. I believe our connection is something other worldly. Truly.
Having Guy in my life brings me peace. It’s like having an extra towel when stepping out of the bath. The smell of fresh soap clings to my skin in a good way. An unobtrusive way. I will see Mark later today. I know my love for Mark is possible because I learned to love Guy with absolutely all of me. Cliche to say. But cliches are good for some things, aren’t they? I remain blessed by love. I am like my kitten on the windowsill looking out at the world, knowing there is a place for everything. And as Grams does, I feel alive in my own skin, ready to walk a new path I imagine. The imaginings are good, are strong, are freeing.
I surf behind shut eyes. The surf is good, doesn’t swallow me. I grab a ray of sun and breathe slowly. I awaken. Today is my anniversary of being sober for 21 years. TIme has moved like a circle of marbles; lean down, use the boulder to push the bumblebee out of the circle and wa-la, 21 years have passed. It has been a hard but good ride. The carousel has never quit on me and I’ve been able to ride every single one of the horses multiple times. Today, my horse is outrageously purple. I settle down into consciousness and thank God. The miracle is me and I’m aware of it. God and friends have seen to it that I don’t fall off the ride; today, I lean into my destiny and know which step to take next.
I have invited love into my life again after realizing love isn’t a package wrapped tightly in twine and thrown into the glove box of Guy’s, my ex. Love is free floating. Love doesn’t need to be wet. I am responsible for my love. My heart strings are taught and flexible and far reaching. I hold hands with a new man in my life and my eyelids flutter. I’m aware of his pulse. It surfaces as we kiss. We come up for air and share a meal. He with spaghetti and meatballs, me with salmon.
We say goodbye in early evening. I have a cut off; I need to take my medications and be in bed by nine. He respects this. I am so glad.
I surf my dreams hoping to dream about him. This doesn’t happen. I don’t need it to to know that he is deep in my life. We hold hands as the hummingbird feeds on red syrup. There will be a moon tonight and I will silently pray. Life is large and I am so blessed.