Autumn Sunday


Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Earth Shaped Heart

Today was one of those days where my body, full of lethargy, forming baby in womb dragging me through what feels like layers of quick sand. A deployed dinner to support spouses seemed to compound my pain, gracious faces eager to help but no one to assuage the pain of absence, the pain of detachment, of void the size of a china ripping through my earth- shaped heart. The interminable amount of days layered on days. How long has he been gone? Only one month. Many more to go, days forming weeks forming years, for some. For me, how do I complain about 6 months of absence in one year, 8 months in two? How does one vote to say yes to war. To place your vote on paper must mean to look in the eyes of a love starved child, crying when he sees a man who resembles the form of father in flight suit… the eyes eager to scoop up what was once here and now is gone. Object impermanence. To live in a constant state of struggle, to attach to the one you love, but not too much that it will hurt when he leaves, tomorrow, for another deployment. How does one hold on to loss? Hold on to the absence of someone, the memory of someone once here, once in bed, heart ticking in rhythm to my own, and then to tick in rhythm to someone on the other side of the world? How does one grieve and not grieve. Live in strength for today, carrying head high to cover up heart feeling low?