There are so many kind, generous, loving and thoughtful people in my life. I am blessed in so many ways and when someone comes to visit I am reminded that people will make the effort to give up the comforts of their homes to travel a long distance to see me. Yes, they enjoy the natural beauty, the waves, the trees and rocks and they also give up the familiarity of their own place for the quirky little cottage suite I offer them.
We have engaging conversations, good meals, play games, ride bikes, share laughs and tears, adventures and mishaps. We create memories in a place where Doug and I did the same and in places we had never explored in ways we hadn’t experienced. And until yesterday, I didn’t have a name for what I feel every time someone leaves.
As Doug and I did with all our visitors I followed tradition and waved my friend out of the driveway, watching her car disappear down the road. With tears in my eyes I came back into the sudden silence and emptiness of my home and looked around longingly. It struck me that I was looking for that comfortable place. A place where I could exhale after hosting for a few days. Even with my closest people I still feel some sense of being alert or available or as Doug would say ‘in readiness’ for whatever might be needed. And when people leave, I am been drawn to the comfortable place to reflect on the time together or simply let go of being ‘on’.
But once again, I couldn’t find it yesterday because I realized it was with Doug that I felt most comfortable, the place I could be my most unbridled self, where I could let go, sink in. Even if we chattered away retelling stories or dissecting conversations, we were both so real with each other that it was the definition of comfort. And now there is no one I can be so real with. While I have missed this for the past 32 months it was an awareness on another new level for me that the person I was my most authentic self with was no longer here to sit beside me to share our thoughts and feelings. My most comfortable place didn’t exist anymore. As much as I have truly dedicated people who will listen without judgement, it is not the same.
And without that comfortable place my mind began to unravel and follow pathways to despair that are so hard to rein in. In these moments I forget that everything I am feeling is temporary, that there is much joy around me, that gratitude has pulled me through before and that something shiny, positive and soul nourishing will show up soon.
So I went for a long bike ride, watered the tomato plants, made popcorn for dinner, cried a lot and distracted myself as best I could. I took a walk and smiled and chatted with neighbours and held my breath. Such a profound loss in my life has left a gaping hole that I’m still trying to incorporate into my days and nights. I don’t know if it will ever be filled but I keep getting back on my feet and finding ways to knit the edges tighter so at least the space doesn’t keep growing bigger and feeling so hopeless. Because sometimes, like yesterday, when there is no comfortable place anymore, that’s what it feels like.
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