November

I love November. I love its browns and faded oranges. I love how the weather slips from warm to cold from one day to the next. I love how it gets dark so early and stays dark so late in the morning. I love feeling the need to bake. I love feeling the need to keep our house warm and cozy.

It’s the month Ray and I were married. We would have been married now for six years if he would have lived. I still count the years, even though I’m in a spirit marriage. One of us is a spirit and the other is a human being, but we still walk together. It’s just not as nice as if we were in the same dimension.

I’ve been a widow for almost five years and I think now that I’m finally at a point where being without Ray doesn’t grab me and bring me down into the dark place. I never scream, “I hate my life!” any more like I did for so many months after Ray died. My life would be awesome if he was here, but it’s semi-awesome now, and I’ve been able to adjust to that.

I don’t cry out for Ray like I’m a baby when I’m stressed out about something anymore. He knows and I know, and I just have to deal with it on my own. That’s OK, too.

When most people are first widowed, they try to hang on to anything that represents the spouse. We hang on to their things, their mannerisms, the way the house is set up, and the way we always did stuff with them.

I’ve learned during these last almost five years, that it’s OK to do things differently. I’m much more of a homebody than I was with Ray. I calmer, I try to be more patient, and have fewer meltdowns when I get stressed out or over stimulated.

But on the other hand, I’m not as friendly as I used to be. It takes me a while to think of conversational items to discuss with strangers, to ask them questions, and to genuinely like them. I’m getting better with relating to people again, although I don’t think I’ll ever be as outgoing as I once was.

As for Joe and I, well, once I started letting go of doing everything the way Ray and I did it, then we started getting along a lot better. Joe is a different person than Ray. He’s not my soul mate. He’s a relationship, he holds me up when I need it and I do the same for him. But having been in the ultimate relationship, I know that I will never have that again on this earth, so I accept what I do have. And appreciate it, because Joe is there for me when I need him to be.

Ray and I had so few disagreements that, to be honest, it’s kind of nice to yell and scream when I get angry about something. It’s like when I raise my voice, all the toxic emotions that boil around inside of me come out, and I feel better. It’s like having a good cry.

So Ray probably watches me and wonders what’s going on – but I know he’s proud that I didn’t shrivel up with grief, and have met my challenges well.

I washed all my bedding today and this finished up my fall chores. I put the flannel sheets on the bed, along with the extra blanket, so we should be all set for any cold weather winter throws at us.

The leaves have been raked up, the yard furniture stowed in the massive garage, our cars have had their oil changed, and I bought new tires for my car.
I’m ready to enjoy this interlude between Halloween and Thanksgiving and the holiday rush. I feel the urge to bake and put together a thick vegetable soup in the crock pot. I’ve loaded up my Kindle with several new books. I’ve rearranged some things in the house. I sleep closer to Joe at night.

It’s a good time of year.