It rained all day, blustery and raw…abysmal for mid-May on the NC coast. Not having seen sunrise, sunset was also looming as a bust. The only saving grace was the room being on the top floor so that the waves could be viewed from horizon to shore.
Angry and sickly gray-green it was still balm to my soul to stand on the balcony, close my eyes and listen to the music I hear in the sound of the of the wave breaking the crest and rolling to the beach.
For a fire sign I seem to have an abundant partiality to water. Particularly moving water…the more movement the better. This gray day’s waves doubtless barely topped 5 feet. Yet, they harnessed enough of the storm’s discordance to seep into my head and vibrate there.
Big wave action is preferable...like those I grew up with on Southern California’s beaches…sometimes topping 15 feet even without a storm to push them. Perhaps I find their cacophony as counterpoint to the thoughts often noisily rolling through the gray matter squishing about in the hollows of my cranial cavity.
Throughout the evening the storm lingered. Sometimes nearby. Sometimes out on the horizon dancing through the clouds like lights on spaceships from Close Encounters. Always booming and echoing across the now darkened sky.
There is nothing as beautiful to me as a night storm across the ocean’s horizon. It appears almost primal…often reminding me of a friend’s full moon drummings…a pulse beat both audible and visible.
Retiring to the symphony of wavecrash in my ears I awoke in the wee hours to the gift of the full moon reflecting off the now much stilled waters. The music subtle and almost muted in harmony with the silver strands glimmering in the moon’s light.
Mayhap it was the change in tempo that woke me. I remained sleepless staring across the gently undulating sea from the balcony until daylight crept into the easternmost corner of the horizon.
My mind and heart have been somewhat unsettled with the impending anniversary of Jim’s death. Mesmerized by movement and sound my mind traveled back and forth across this widow’s path I have traveled. Yet, not for myself did the tears fall this time. They fell for the finality of loss for my children and my grand…the man who loved them never to be in their lives again while they have so much yet ahead of them. I thought of my peers in places both early and matured in their grief and for those yet to come as life moves ever forward in its endless circle of birth, living and dying.
In analyzing my own journey I realize I have not so suddenly come to that place where my memories bring me more joy than sadness. But, I also feel as if I have not really lived that life…that it was somehow something of a phantasy. A friend recently said she felt that the longer the time since her spouse had died the more she felt as if it were a dream. I can relate to that. He will always be in my heart…yet…I feel further and further away from him with each year that passes. Still, the thought does not distress me as it once might have…it was a pleasant dream which I was glad to have had…I have memories of a man who loved me unconditionally for over 30 years of my life…a treasure none can plunder.
We who are widowed are the broken waters awaiting the full moon’s grace to heal us and bless us with a sense of peace. That full moon on that particular night was a gift from the universe to let me know that while I still walk this path, I am more whole than I have been in almost 4 years. I am grateful for that and I am grateful for having had Jim in my life.
(The photo at the top of the page was taken by me at Ocean Isle Beach in NC over this past weekend.)
The stones around the Butterfly Garden are in remembrance of all of you who follow the same path as I. 
Monarchs were everywhere dancing in the warm mountain air teasing us with their antics, but declining to light long enough take their picture. Flighty lot those Monarchs.
Outlaw’s Garden…well…who needs an explanation of that…wild child all over the place just like me…she as well.
She said she was honored to have a bit of him in her gardens and tend to the stones we left in memory of y’all.
