... a voice for those who mourn the loss of a soul mate
"He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began." - Leo Tolstoy

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

What it feels like for me

There is a hum to the life of a house that we don't even realize is there until it no longer is.
I had some major electrical work done on the house yesterday and, because of that, the power to the house had to be turned off for several hours so that the technicians could safely work.
When that happened I was struck by the silence - the dead silence. It is called that for a reason. My house was dead. Its heart was no longer beating. Its life blood - the electrical current that powered everything - was no longer circulating.
Complete and utter silence.
The refrigerator no longer hummed.
The coffee pot did not light up and make that liquid that I relied on every morning.
The air conditioner no longer turned off and on with its familiar little click just before and after that action.
Lights did not respond to my fingers.
The security camera did not make that little move it did when it tracked action in the living room.
My house had died. Its light had literally been extinguished.
Much like the light had gone out in my life when my soul mate John died.
I remember that night when I awoke to find John gone as if it was yesterday. It was 1:15 AM. We were in a hotel room in New York City. We had been on vacation but were scheduled to depart for our home in Arizona in just a few hours.
Yet I woke up and immediately knew something was wrong. John was not in bed as he should have been and did not answer when I called out to him. And even though the electricity was on in that room and the room was really not silent, my soul was. My soul knew even before my eyes and brain did that John was gone.
The light in my life had gone out.
During the time that the power was out in my house yesterday I made do with little fixes. I met a friend for breakfast. I ran errands. We hooked a generator up to the freezer in the garage to preserve the food. I read real paper books and magazines.
Then, after the work was completed, the power was turned back on in the afternoon and my house immediately came back to life with its familiar noises and actions.
But John did not come back that morning and there was no way to jump start my life again. I continue to make do with things to try to fill the gap - friends, family, hobbies, etc. - but it will never be the same.
Nothing is as it was before.
And never will be again.
My soul still wants to have the electricity turned back on.


Marylynn Graham said...

I know just what you mean Joy. After Larry died, I could only describe my house as sad. It was a sad house that was heavy on all who entered. They could feel it too. It has been 4 1/2 years since I lost my love and the house only feels sad at times. It has been slowly trying to come back to life. When the doors are open and the sun is shining through is when it is the happiest because that was Larry's favorite way to enjoy the rooms. He loved the breeze and sunlight. My light has gone out and is trying to flicker back to life but it is nice to see the house trying to recover from its loss too.

Joy Collins said...

Thank you for sharing this, Marylynn. Gradually, the life does come back. It won't be the same. It's a different life. A variation of the old one, so to speak. But it happens. And we are grateful for what comes.