I was sitting in a local restaurant having brunch on Sunday after church. This has become a ritual for me…a time to either visit with a friend that I invite to join me, or dine alone. I delight in the company when someone comes along, but the times alone allow me the opportunity to reflect on the sermon of the day. And, since this week’s sermon was on sex, what better time to discuss new frontiers…of all types. (No, I’m not going to get into a discussion about sex…today anyway!)
Oh, I’ve got it bad. You know what I’m talking about. That itch to get out and do something…anything…outside. In the warm sunshine. To feel my toes in the grass. To hear the birds sing. To feel the tug of a good sized trout that will soon be sizzling over a campfire.
That’s what I want…right now. I want to hook TOW-Wanda up and feel the miles roll under us. I want to get lost in the woods. I want to go someplace I’ve never been.
I miss having some around. I have guy friends that I don’t get to hang with nearly enough. But, I miss romance. I miss that masculine protective strength. That big bear hug that tells you everything’s going to be ok.
The day we buried Mr. Virgo, I was wandering around the house, speaking to people, hugging friends and family. I realized I needed some testosterone. I went to Mr. Virgo’s humidor and got that really expensive cigar I bought him for Christmas. I have very little alcohol in the house but I had some cognac that I used for cooking. I grabbed that and went around gathering the men and headed for the front porch. We sat out there and dedicated this little soirée to the memory of a good man. It was a lovely ritual. My clearest memory of the funeral, really.
I graduated Wednesday. At the end of my session with my grief counsellor, we decided I don’t need to go back unless I feel the need. The goal of any therapy should be the time when you don’t need it.
When I first started this journey, the pain was bad…really bad. Then I went through a strong denial phase. I didn’t deny Mr. Virgo’s death. I denied my pain because I was afraid if I tried to take it in all at once, I would break open and pieces of me would fall away. So, I traveled…I spent too much money…I attached myself in ways I was not prepared for. Then one day, quite literally, the fog lifted and I was able to see everything clearly. The finality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks. I was numb for months then the anesthesia wore off. The pain was far worse than it was initially. And, I had a choice. I could stand there and watch the pieces fall off of me or, I could get out my sewing kit and start piecing myself a quilt from the scraps I had left.
One more month and it will be a year since he’s been gone. That is unimaginable. This is the photo I saw when I expanded my search on match.com to include the Front Range and my breath caught in my throat. He struck me as handsome, to say the least. Sean Connery handsome. Man’s man handsome. Sassy with that cigar. Penetrating blue eyes, silver hair, sexy beard. I loved the way he tucked his sleeves to the inside instead of rolling them up. My very first thought….“There is no way a handsome man like that is going to have anything to do with me.” My self esteem was so low after my divorce. I looked at this photo and read his profile every day for three weeks before I got up the nerve to send him a note inviting him to look at my own profile. I didn’t hear anything for 4 months. I figured that was my answer…he wasn’t interested. Then he wrote back. He had moved within 40 miles from me. Did I still want to go out? Yes….oh my, yes! We e-mailed then talked on the phone and finally met in person on Halloween 2005. My friend was in my shop and said she would stay in case he was some sort of stalker-dude. He walked in. I took one look and whispered to her “Get out of here! He’s perfect!” That is my favorite story. The “how I met Mr. Virgo” story. I like to tell it. I can tell it now and smile. I miss him. Always will. I love him. Always will. I will always have him because he didn’t go far…he still lives in my heart. Always will. He makes me smile. Always will.
Dating. There…I said it. I had an interesting conversation with a new friend the other day. She is also a widow and a grief counselor. She asked me if I had given any thought to what my next relationship would look like. Wow. That was heavy. For those of you who have been around the whole year since Mr. Virgo died, you will remember my ill-fated attempt at dating in September. This was a very nice man, a good man, a Christian, and someone from my high school graduating class. Just about everything seemed perfect…except for one glaring fact that neither one of us cared to notice. It was WAY too soon after Mr. Virgo’s death for me to get that involved with anyone. There were some hurt feelings, but I have to say, I am so glad we decided to remain friends because Mr. B has been a delight to talk with and has offered me such great insight into who I am and what I want out of life. He was there with a broad shoulder and limitless compassion when I needed someone to cry to and I’m grateful for that. For a number of reasons, it just won’t be a romantic relationship and that’s ok.
Mr. Virgo lived his life. He had stories that were so entertaining, I would often ask him to tell me over and over. I marveled at the places he went, the people he met, the things he did. He lived his life, but he also questioned what was coming next. He was a Christian, so he knew he was going to Heaven. But, what does Heaven look like? Is it some ethereal thing with streets paved in gold? Is it like earth, only different? Is it whatever you want it to be? There are those who claim to have been there during near-death experiences and I’m not sure I have read any two accounts that match exactly. Mr. Virgo and I used to talk about it. We would theorize, debate, quote, read, watch movies and discuss just what we felt it would be like. His view of Heaven was very simple. It was this picture, taken at an overlook near Pagosa Springs, Colorado. Whenever we would stop here on our way down from the mountains, he would just stare out at this vista and sigh. This was perfection. He would have a log cabin. He would be a mountain man, hunting and trapping and gathering food. He would chop his own wood and carry water from a pristine stream. He would fish and bake biscuits in a Dutch oven. He would sit on the front porch in the evening in a rocking chair he built himself. He would whittle and listen to the evening birds as they swooped to catch the mayflies. And he would visit with God. He pictured God sitting on that front porch with him every evening, discussing the great mysteries of life. He would see his family again. He would meet Lincoln, and JFK, and Mother Theresa. He would rest. He was most looking forward to seeing Jesus. He wanted to ask him every question there was to ask.
“As part of my healing, I had to stop ‘glorifying’ my husband and list the things about him that irritated me.” Sue
In order to justify some decisions I was making not too long after Mr. Virgo died, I started talkin’ smack about my man. I know now what that was all about. Psychologically, it is easier if you don’t miss someone and the quickest way to not miss them is to find fault. The opposite of that is glorification.
“Some good things come out of the worst of times. Molly, age 6”
My six…almost seven year old granddaughter is one of the most profound thinkers I have ever known. On the night Mr. Virgo was buried, we were sitting at dinner and the divine Miss M sat by me, held my hand and said, “Nana, I am so sorry for what happened to Papa…you must be so sad.” She went on to take her crayons and draw a circle with a cross in it and gave it to me.
The only absolute certainty in this physical existence is that things will change. I don’t think it takes a terribly long time in this life to figure this out, but the bargaining and denial aspects of grief can make that fact inaccessible at times…much like putting a smoky filter on a camera lens. We want what we want and we want it to be like it used to be.
“New Frontiers”
“I’ve got a little gypsy in me!”
“Testosterone”
“Scar Tissue”
“The Inimitable Mr. Virgo”
“Death, Divorce, and the Other ‘D’ Word”
“Mr. Virgo’s Idea of Heaven”
“As part of my healing, I had to stop ‘glorifying’ my husband and list the things about him that irritated me.” Sue
“Some good things come out of the worst of times. Molly, age 6”
“How Things Used to Be”