connection is important to me. in all aspects of my life. our marriage counselor caught on early and has had to redirect dh a few times when it comes to lack of connection or emotional detachment on his end…when we had to have a hard conversation about *him* and the connection, she did a good job of facilitating as it wasn’t to hurt dh but to explain how and why and why it’s so critical. dh struggled as he admits he just doesn’t understand nor does he get that connection has always been important to me but that for many of our 25+ years, i went without for a myriad of reasons, one of which was not wanting to ask anymore because he always refused. last week, our counselor asked about my prognosis, my health, the future for our kids, especially our son with special needs. looking to me, dh knew that i’m the planner and have started the work long ago. she shook her head and asked him why wasn’t he partnering with me on this difficult work and he had no answer, as if knew me but didn’t. this week, during the “sticky wicket” part of our session in which we both are to talk about current transgressions/issues she asked again about connection and why did i think “he” knew me, even better than dh at times? without thinking and without any ill intent, i mentioned cloud atlas and how it took me a few viewings to “get it”. but that “he” had mentioned to me that he almost cries when her speech comes up near the end. i never asked him about that. i understood why the other day when i casually mentioned i finally got the movie. and he simply typed out “duh. i cry everytime because her mannerisms, her beliefs, her love reminds me of you” *gasp* to me that’s connection. knowing someone knows you better than you even know yourself sometimes. as dh says he still thinks it’s a dumb movie our counselor looks at him. then at me. then at him again. before saying “clearly, there is so much more work here than you realize. especially if the intent is to remain married.” huh, ya think?
didn’t realize it’s been so long since I last posted. no, that’s not true. I realized it but when real life takes over, sometimes it’s all you can do to get through each day and before I knew it two weeks have come and gone in almost a blur.
work has been the kind of busy that I thrive on. usually. hitting the ground running from the moment you drive into the parking garage until you look up and realize you’re late to pick up one of your kidlets, your hair appointment etc. add into that the required visits to the lab each week, marriage counseling, your own counseling, volunteer commitments, friends and on and on.
the cancer is draining in that the fatigue that I carry with me each day seems to rob me of simple pleasures. such as my love of the blogging universe. there are so many blogs that I enjoy reading and commenting on and I miss each one of them. I haven’t even had the space to lurk and keep up with posts *sigh*
he has been traveling himself and our connection to one another is fraught with complications the least of which is time zones, internet connectivity from developing countries and the complex arena of our mutual admiration society in general. I won’t lie. I miss him. Every damn day. I want my goodbye. I want that silly, romantic event in which I can thank him for all that he brought out in me, for the safe harbor he provided leading to this point and to tell him I love him. in person. and will look back fondly in the hopes that when our paths cross again in 20-years we can smile at one another. but as everyone knows, what you want you don’t always get. and as much as I fight the cancer each day I can’t guarantee that it will be enough to win the war.
given the way things need to be and the new normal of limited virtual contact, the additional distance and separator of time zones pierces my heart more than ever before. I miss your touch. yes, of course the actual physical touch but more importantly the touch of our conversations and human kindness in the mutual admiration society we have. the voicemails of encouragement before and after a chemo treatment, the funny limerick left in my mailbox or the good night wish sent as a single note in the ether. that’s the touch I miss the most.