Thanksgiving. We got through it, my son and I. We went to a local restaurant for a buffet. It was crowded with people and we sat with strangers for almost an hour before they called us to a table. Before that, a couple of women I had been chatting with offered to share their large booth with us. I felt that would be uncomfortable, so we waited and got our own large booth.
The dressing was wonderful and the white chocolate bread pudding was outstanding. Good coffee kept coming and it was rather nice to be with friendly strangers as our family for the evening. One never feels complete on holidays after close family members have passed on. But you do the best you can. I took a long slow walk, the weather being almost balmy.
As I walked I addressed my husband in my heart. “Here I am, missing you as always.” The trees are almost bare now and the sky was cobalt blue, as blue as my heart. Clear blue emptiness of eternal love. Nothing to block out my view of love, love shining inside, love burning into the void.
Writing enlivens me. To share these lonely words with you is healing, for you have your own loneliness to deal with. Roy Orbison really had a handle on the lonesome style. So clear and true. I try to do that with my words. I want them to vibrate on the same universal chord as his. Phrasing should be musical; emotional intensity should build. I want you to know me, to know my heartache, to understand that is the path of healing for me. I have no intention of building a rose-colored palace of enlightenment in which to dwell. I am content with the simplest of things. A piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream, sitting on my cozy green couch watching HGTV. They are showing how Rockefeller Center is decorated for the holidays. My heart is bare and that is how I like it. That way emptiness and fullness are seen to be the same. You understand, don’t you?