One Half of a Whole

We were a unit, always referred to as Phyllis and Leslie, never just Phyllis. We were a staple in each other's lives. A footnote, a reference of stability when an example was needed.

She used to laughingly refer to us as “three girls against the world.” By then there were three. Little Dog played her part.

Then a fracture happened, illness and death, a major chasm.

If one would take a paper doll and tear it down the middle vertically, there would be frayed edges.

The fracture of our unit left all of the edges frayed. There was no neat scissor cut.  

Damage results in cover up in order to protect the wound. Early damage? Life-long protection. When damage occurs to any part of the unit, it presents difficulty in finding that mesh, “a cog to fit into the gear.”

My damage, the loss of my wife, has left fuzzy edges, gaping holes.

I refer over and over to the idea that we are herd animals. Not only are we herd animals, we are unit animals, searching from the beginning for someone with whom to mesh. Our body, mind and soul (the emotional system) yearns to find a match.

The lucky ones find that match — a love match, a soulmate, a wife (or husband). The one half is whole. One. A unit.

Could anyone be lucky enough to find that in one’s lifetime, let alone two or three times?

Robert J. Havighurst, the developmental psychologist, proclaims to meet one developmental task of our age group is “to adjust to the death of our spouse.”

That is such a load of crap. How can we ever adjust to being ripped apart? If adjustment means continuing the habits of survival, then I guess I have adjusted. I eat, clothe myself, keep personally clean, have a shelter, all physical habits which are fairly easy to do.

My emotional self remains jagged, the edges frayed.

Some individuals may go their entire lifetime with their edges unsealed. If they are like me, it hurts. I cry with emotional pain. Adjustment may mean the pain gets sealed over, but is still there, a dull ache wanting to erupt, yet never knowing when.

Other matches line up with friendships. Again for some reason one resonates with another. There is similarity, there is comfort, there is lack of pretense. There is equality. The flaws and bumps don’t matter. They are insignificant. There is just a fit.

The fit I believe is instant. I still have a friend from way back, who is still alive and not the summertime friend that I see periodically. The first time I saw her, met her, was in a business situation. I wanted to hug her. I’m not a hugger. There was just something about her that was so warm. It just drew me in. We are still friends. I hug her when I can. She's not real huggy either, but we manage to get the job done.

My pillow was wet this morning. I guess I had been crying in my sleep. I finally woke up, not wanting to face today, wondering, why today?

I drove for hours yesterday. That has always been my mind’s problem-solving time. I have no idea why my mind took me shopping. It took me “people shopping.” It did a rundown of those “new people” I have been in contact with since my wife died. Most didn’t fit. Fortunately, those who did, have become my new herd. 

But one is absent. One who has yet been able to seal all the frayed edges.

I understand the emotional pain of those frayed edges, and how individuals seek to seal them off. I understand the self-defeating behaviors that provide a temporary fix, a hasty seal. I understand why some hop from bed to bed, or drink or obliterate themselves with drugs.

My temptation is to revert to my earliest coping mechanism, armor over the edges. Keep the pain in, keep the outside away.

Then I look down. There is Little Dog, gazing up at me. Her message is clear. Both of us need to sit down and have puppy time, time to share our love.

That may be the balm to soothe the fracture.

Let me know how you are doing. I care.

Contemplation: What is adjustment? I just looked at my calendar from Shriners hospital whose motto is Love to the Rescue. It is a registered statement.

Sincerely,

Lynn Brooke

PS. It is a day later.

Yesterday was such a day of grieving, with episodes on and off all day for no apparent reason. I know my body was tired, as I had physically worked it over two days. It seems to let grief escape after I do that.

Before I woke up this morning, I had visitors.

First, a butterfly, not a real one. Someone released a beautiful mechanical one, and sent it to me. It gave me joy to see it flying all over.

Then a woman came to see me. It was someone I knew, but not in real life. She came into the house and hugged me for a long time. I could feel the infusion of love from her. Then she called another woman in, that I didn’t know, who brought in Coca Cola.

Subconscious or just weird, I don’t know. I guess I needed all of it. I’ll take the gifts.

Happy Valentine’s Day

© 2024 Our New Chances

Photo Credit: © 2024 Rachel Gareau