Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

The second half

2 Comments

I’m not in any way a religious person. Can’t decide if I’m agnostic or atheist.

Probably the latter.

But, I get that some people find comfort in it. Religion, whilst seeming to me like wishing on the sky fairy, is personal. I hate when people use religion to hate difference. But if it helps you navigate and make sense of the world, with empathy and tolerance, more power to you.

Therefore, I do follow some people who identify their religion and refer differently to me. Mentioning God casually, so not my thing, but I may still like their point of view. Or take some part of their ethos on board. The likes of Glennon Doyle, who I might not agree with on everything, but enjoy her challenges to straight, white, Christian people’s thinking.

Her “We Can Do Hard Things,’ as a mantra, got me through the worst period in my life!

Mature women, talking about their loves. Chelsea Handler and Jokoy. Whoda thunk she’d be all loved up? And at this age? 😱😜🀣

I like this Instagram post from Jen Hatmaker. A bit younger than me, but similar circumstance. A probably cheating ex husband. I’ve never looked too deeply into it, but it seems that is what happened.

And she’s repartnered relatively recently, and talks about that.

This post broke my heart, but gave me hope.

Who will ever know me like Rog knew me? That kills me. It really does. Absolutely. I still have daily moments where I want to share something with him. An anecdote or wee aside that only he would get. About a thing that happened. Or something he’d love. Or would get why I chuckled. Something on my property. About my cattle. Or dogs. Something someone said to me, that only he would get. Those lifetime sharings.

That are lost.

That now have nowhere to go. That I carry alone. Usually – like right now – sitting painfully in the space between my chest, and my throat.

If you look for thoughts about this loss, it is usually expressed about death.

The “respectable” way to lose the love of your life.

Never them leaving you, for someone else. Because really? If they did that, then they never loved you, you must have done something bad, and grief is not yours to feel.

You are not allowed those shared, deep, loving memories of a special bond. That is reserved only for those widowed! Stop with the “special bond” bullshit.

But, the opportunity for better is immense.

And, BG also drinks his hot drinks black, doesn’t drink milk.

But always ensures there’s milk in his fridge for me.

It’s a start.

2 thoughts on “The second half

  1. I always drink my teas black and I don’t drink milk either. We’re not THAT weird! πŸ˜‚

    • 🀣🀣 ha! Not suggesting you are, SW

      Well, not about this! 😜

      I just love the thoughtfulness. Oh, better get milk, for that nice girl that comes over sometimes πŸ’š

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