aloneness: n.
The state of being alone.
alone: adj.
By oneself, solitary.
This, my prayer: What
do You have planned for me this day?
I’ve noticed my steps and
actions are gentler. I close cupboard doors and drawers with less force. I walk
without my usual “thump” and move with a degree of stealth, which is completely
out of character. Typically, I’m “the bull in a China shop,” an apt description
applied to my childhood self by my Mother. My inner being appears to have
undergone a change since the death of my partner over five months ago. Perhaps it’s
due to the exposure and baring of my vulnerability. My emotions have surfaced,
raw and naked, in a “new-to-me,” foreign manner.
The small needlepoint craft he gave me sits atop my desk, a daily reminder of the hugs.The aloneness is a stark
presence, the elephant in the room. I didn’t expect it to be so. After all, I
lived as a single person for almost twenty years before connecting with a
former high school classmate from The Class of 1962. I lived alone. I
worked alone. I was alone. And I didn’t have a single problem with that
arrangement. In fact, I was very comfortable. I liked myself and was content
with my own company.
Things changed when a
six-year-long relationship developed with my partner. Life included someone
else. It wasn’t just about me, myself, and I. When he passed after surgery
complications, they flip-flopped once again.
These
days, morning chit
chat isn’t the opener to my days, the kind of small talk that always
began with
a “Good Morning.” The smell of fresh coffee and early morning TV news to
hear
the local weather is nowhere on the scene—I’m neither a coffee drinker
nor a
follower of the weather. My partner was. As the day progresses, the
silence is
deafening in the presence of absentee companionship and conversation.
The television is silent. Old Westerns, ball games, and music from days
gone by don't fill the air. Winter
days with less daylight haven’t helped any as the hours, ergo the days,
seemingly
stretch out into oblivion.
I know there is a point
and purpose to all that takes place in my life. While my partner was alive, he
was the focus of my care and concern. Right here. Right now...with nothing but
time on my hands, I wonder what that point and purpose is.
When death takes place,
those left behind face a transition of varying degrees and circumstances. Many
times couples who have been married for decades are separated by the loss of
their partner. There were two. Then only one. I don’t think there’s any simple
way to compensate for--or to fully adjust to that—unless the relationship was
damaged or fractured.
Many times lifelong
friendships or relationships in families have rhythms and routines—a phone call
after a sports event, birthday greetings, a regular gathering to catch up on
family activities, successes or problems, and to share life’s ebb and flow. Losing
a friend, family member, or even a casual acquaintance can be earth-shattering on
a very personal level. The absence cannot be erased or forgotten, and the
reminders abound.
I’ve been aware a pit
appears when the death of a loved one takes place. Care must be taken not to
fall into it. That pit is a trap whereupon those left behind die as well. While
it isn’t a physical death, the survivor’s life can wither and perish while
grieving and mourning loss. It takes keen awareness, observation, and will to
continue moving forward—alone.
Aloneness, the result of loss,
amplifies the reluctance to want to live. The desire to hole up inside—literally
and figuratively--to withdraw emotionally, choosing not to reach out or
socialize are signals one is taking steps to opt out of living life.
And yet life goes on. How
does one live with aloneness without allowing it to consume and take over?
I make no recommendations or suggestions. I only relate my experience—where I
am today.
I honestly thought I’d be
doing a better job at this point in time than I am, though there really is no
way to measure nor a grade to be earned.
Walking forces me to go
out the door as I put forth an effort to get out for a walk at least every
other day. Sometimes an inner fight takes place as I try to talk myself out of
it, but I am always filled with gratitude when I “just do it!” The fresh air
invigorates and encourages me, and I try to stay open to “the still small
voice” as I trudge along.
Recently, I’ve returned to
the days of my youth when I was an avid reader. A small library is within
walking distance down the street. I got a library card and have been spending
time with my nose in a book. I discovered I enjoy historical novels and found a
couple of authors I genuinely like.
Occasionally, I
experience bursts of organizing and purging. Once in a while I have a random
spur-of-the-moment idea to create something in my sewing room or the kitchen. Making Christmas ornaments for the upcoming year is always an ongoing
project. I try to reach out to friends and family instead of digging a hole in
the aloneness that surrounds me. Writing is more difficult as it requires focus
and thought, which is more stop-and-go than functioning smoothly and consistently.
All of life and the
living of it is a process filled with adjustments—from the first day of life to
the last. Some are harder than others. This stage of aloneness is just another
facet, and I am learning there are no rules or requirements, to have no
expectations, and to give myself some grace along the way.
Perhaps that is one
reason I’m not so intense and am taking things easier, rolling with the flow. I
do believe I have softened some. I hope so. I hope I’m not so sharp or brusque.
I hope the way I am physically behaving is an indication of that.
Right here. Right now...I
am living out a paradox. I am in a state of aloneness. Yet, I am not alone.
Step by step. One step at
a time.
What do You have planned
for me this day?
God
has said, “I will never leave you or let you be alone.”
Hebrews
13:5 NKJV
