Last Saturday I laid my husband's ashes to rest (XPost)
at the family farm in West Virginia. There were only 8 of us there.
HillbillyBob (Rob) didn't post often on DU but some of you may remember his fiery style. I've been absent a lot during the last few months, attempting to accept and adjust to this new reality. As close as he and I were it has been a difficult road. Together, we had faced cancer, a previous heart attack, his failing health, joblessness and even being homeless for a time. Everything life threw at us, things that usually break most couples apart, only drove us closer together. Now, when a there's a really big to face, it kind-of feels like being marooned on an island. Funny thing, I'm not lonely; I just miss him terribly. I'm lonesome for him. We used to joke that we'd plumb-rurned each other for any other man on the planet.
I didn't realize just how true that was until he was gone. What we had was a "once in a lifetime" kind of love.
Where I come from in Appalachia, one of the greatest honors to give someone is to prepare their final resting place. Rob's family honored him and me both by letting me be the one to dig the site. In the hole, I placed his ashes and covered them with a clump of irises he loved. We hugged each other and said farewells.
The only thing I could think of to say is something that occurred to me when I received his ashes from the funeral home in early March: Ten pounds of stardust and a million tears, that's all we can leave behind. It's the quality and nature of those tears that describe the life we'd led.
I have no regrets for loving with all the strength I could find though the wound left by its departure is still raw. I had hoped just a little bit that by honoring my beloved with the best I was raised to give there might be a bit of healing. So far, the grief hurts worse than ever.
When you swap souls with someone, there are no takebacks even if you tried. Even knowing this, love those in your life as fully, unconditionally, and strongly as you can. As for me, I'm glad I did. I was loved completely and unconditionally in return. The kind of love Rob and I shared is what I wish for you.
Peace,
HW
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As sad and hurt and lonely as you are, you shared a special love. Your strength is astronomical and that you share your pain and love with us is a testament to that strength.
You are loved, then, now, and forever.
"I am my beloved and my beloved is mine."
A powerful message of love is what the world needs.
Celebrate with you the amazing love and life that you shared.
You are loved till the end of time. Just remember that breeze on your face, that tender touch on your shoulder, every time you see an Iris, Rob is there with you. You are always in our thoughts.
Not many of us are blessed with that kind of love. Thank you for sharing that beautiful tribute to him.
Peace
Lee
He was a lucky man. And now he is a part of the earth and a part of everyone else too.
But I will say I know your a strong man & time heals all. Cherish the time you were together & use your memories, trust me it works.
My thoughts & prayers are with you. Go in peace my brother.
One of the lessons I've been offered in the last few months is just how very fortunate I have been. Real love is pretty damn rare. I always sort-of realized my baby was a gift I couldn't keep, It's as if I was walking through life, hand outstretched lookng for something I couldn't quite identify. Then a butterfly landed in my palm. As I admired its beauty and basked in the pure pleasure of having a living jewel gift itself to me, just as inexplicably as it came along, chose me, and shared time with me, it was just as inexplicably gone.
But for a time, I was the one who got to hold the butterfly. How lucky that was.
There are miracles around us. I know this. I lived one. My wish going forward is that we all get some of that -- and the wit to recognize it when it comes along. I almost missed it. I would have been so much worse of now if had.
but when it finds you, give it everything you've got then find some more to give.
Our DU family may be scrappy at times but when it really hits the fan we lock elbows, stand together, damn the world. This group in particular knows how this isolation works. When we love, we love regardless of how we're viewed or treated for loving at all.
I got really, really lucky. I got to live with the joy of my life for a time. When he left this world his family gathered around me, his dad most of all. That mildly surprised me. Aside from my uncle who performed our commitment and my first cousin who stood with me, none of my family came nor did most of them ever ackowledge our marriage. Rob's mom came and stood with us.
Y'all here have been an immense support system, especially the last few years when Rob's body began to betray him. I'll have to admit, the day he died I flat lost my damn mind and I'm still trying to gather pieces of it.
But you were here. Still loving. Still caring.
When summer breaks we're going to have the sendoff Rob would have enjoyed; a bigazz picnic and kegger. I'll let everyone know when. It would mean a lot to have as many of us can get together to swap hugs.
Thank you again. I love you all very, very, very much.
I have what you had and believe me I treasure it. I wish for you a relief from grief and I wish I could offer more.
