Sunday, July 26, 2020

The Book is Published

Two months ago my book was published and was released for distribution on June 20th. The story feels complete now that it is in black and white. I know Lasse would love it. It was one of the last things he asked me to do before he left the stage of this life. He took a bow, made his exit, but is probably laughing at how he lives on through the pages of this book. Countless women have reached out to me and shared how they laughed, sobbed, and loved our story.

Lasse promised that if the LORD allows, when it is my time to go, then he will come to get me. Until then I am rebuilding my life day by day.

Saturday, January 19, 2019

Supposed to.....

Supposed to.....those two words come to mind today.

It was "supposed to" snow and instead it is raining.

Our family was given a great inside view to the newest grandson who will arrive in a few months and I am "supposed to" feel complete but something is lacking; or rather someone is lacking.

Marah and I got our first real estate listing yesterday and I'm "supposed to" be happy but I'm still sad.

Whatever life is "supposed to" be doesn't really matter though. The sun comes up every morning and the day does its own thing. Whatever we think our "supposed to's" ought to be hardly matter. I can't change this rain to snow. I cannot cause my husband to be alive with me here to share in the joy of a new grandson or first achievements in my new career. My Pirate Husband was "supposed to" be alive.

Oh, in December I did sit down with my trusty Franklin Planner and write down my strengths and weaknesses; I put my dreams into goals that could be reached by cutting them into tiny, chew-able pieces. I realized that all the wrinkles I want to iron out are just waves I have to learn to ride. Nothing is ever going to be as it was "supposed to" be or what I thought it was "supposed to" be. It's sink or swim here.

Lasse said to me during his last few days while I begged him not to complete the Hospice protocol, "The first six months will be the worst." Well, as usual he was wrong. There were times when he did say, "Baby, you were right about that." But that type of reflection is impossible now. Forty weeks. It has been forty weeks and I am still anguished to be separated from him.

"O death, where is your sting?" That sting is in a thousand moments every day. You want to touch and taste and smell and hear and behold the one whom your soul loves with your own eyes. But no. And the sting of the blade of death sears you again and the wound does not heal.

My darling Pirate Husband,

"Wherever you are is my home, my true home."

Saturday, December 29, 2018

Eight Months and Still a Major Meltdown Every. Damn. Day.

Originally this blog was to record my survival living alone without my Pirate Husband as he navigated the Great Loop. I remember being heartsick for him - his physical presence - while he was out on his boat.

The man called me seven times a day. I needed that, he needed that; I need that still. He ended many chats with the same question:

"Do you still love me fiercely, Bambina?"

"You know I love you fiercely, Lover."

The day before he died he looked piercingly into my eyes and said, "I told you 100,000 times that I love you but you never believed me."

I was holding his hand and pleaded desperately, "I believe you, I do! Please do not leave me, Lasse!"

More than eight months later I still have a daily major meltdown. I have tried to push aside the anguish, stop "wallowing in misery" as some call it; but then it's double for your trouble. According to therapists, other widows, and online experts, you just gotta let it come. Grief washes over you and does its thing. But I think the thing it is doing is washing out the wound.

Since the beginning of time salt has been used as a healing solution. I have cried so many salty tears every day since my Pirate Husband left this world. God has said that He bottles all our tears. I think He means to say He knows and He cares. My wound is incurable. I don't know how half of you is ripped away and you survive. But I think letting the grief and salty tears wash out the wound helps. It helps me to get out of bed another day and do the life thing.

I Won't Give Up

This song by Jason Mraz makes me smile. I printed the lyrics for Lasse when he "left for sea". He put them in the clear protective seal on his boat's log book. They are a little blurred from life on the boat with the Pirate Husband but they're still there.

Writing helps. The Life and Times (and Survival) of the Pirate's Wife While She Navigates Being a Widow. Sometimes I just boil it down to four little words, "Sucks to be me." But really I have been so blessed. And I haven't lost my Pirate Husband's love, just his physical presence.....and his seven phone calls a day.

"You know I love you fiercely, Lover."

I always will and somehow, I think I always have.

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Oh God! It is unutterable!

Lasse's Obituary

April 12, 2018

My Love

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Well, Bless My Heart

“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!”

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

"The veil is torn…It is sad when one and the same heart is torn by such conflicting feelings for one person… I need to be alone. I am tired of grandeur; all my feelings have dried up. I no longer care about my glory. At twenty-nine I have exhausted everything."