Just how broken...?

Since my husband's passing my uniform of the day has been the same blue flannel shirt he wore often at our seaside hide-away, that cozy little island that we considered ours alone from the confines of our well weathered walls and the beaches that surrounded us. I would stumble through the beach shrubbery at night to get out to where I knew the magic was waiting, it called to me that beautiful ethereal almost stinging call....snapping away with my camera I would capture as much of it as I could for him then bring it on home. it was a ritual. I LOVED doing it during the storms but poor Bobby would get nervous..he'd say 'You be CAREFUL baby" and mutter under his breath...I can still see him shaking his head as he tried to hide a grin. SUCH love in his expression for me, always..My heart aches and leaps at the same time as I allow the memories to surface and he guides my fingers on the keyboard...I know any time he looked in my eyes he got that some love, that same joy as it mirrored it's way back to him.  We would look at the pictures together later and he'd smile and hug me..he WAS love..he just was. He thought I had a good eye he told me and like  a child I would beam as he said "they're getting better"...nearly 90 % of my picttures have been taken now since after his passing. Such an odd way of measuring time yet it is my way of measuring time now...BEFORE Bobby died and after Bobby died. Much of me died with Bobby that cold March day.

I found a sweater over the weekend that has transformed me into a serious writer, it is a long wool and cashmere Eileen Fisher fit to be a writer's Sweater and it took to me...so here I sit a ramblin'

My husband wants me to get back to work..back to myself and he will not relent

I received a beautiful call the other day, it's affects still imprinted on my heart and ringing pleasantly through my mind..thank you Ms. Hattah, you helped get this writer's blood moving as you brought me news from my husband.
 As a writer yourself you KNOW I have been dying a slow death having this imposed silence.  

I had been asking for Bobby, begging really...we were "stuck" for nearly a month and it was weighing heavy on my heart. 

My husband is so powerful even in death. Anyone that he loved can most likely recount their own story since his passing, if they are of the ilk that allows themselves that raw experience of even a touch of communication from someone in Spirit. 

Someone asked me "how do you know it's real?" You know because it IS real. Very simple.



We were both loners at our core Bobby and I yet in each other we found and got down to the serious business of solace in each others arms.

Nothing short of Storybook magic our journey..

When Bobby and I met again after 28 years of our own individual paths well worn.. it was the stuff dreams are made of. We had a few self indulgent talks of "what if"..in the beginning of his illness and then again at the end. 
Yet somehow nearly every minute of our lives together was spent mindful and IN the moment. Up until Bobby this was something I had great difficulty with, staying in my moments. No longer. He was truly my twin soul, my home. Never by the way have I laughed as much as I did with him..oh did we have fun.

The true beginning of our reunion after 28 years will wait. I must digest that I sit here now with determination and even a small degree of ease and am able to refer to myself as a Writer once again.

To be continued..Peace, Love & Light to all

S.S.H ; )