Superman

I went to a "young widows/widowers" support group last week. People who had lost their spouses two years ago are still weeping and lost without them. I don't know if I can do "this" for that long. Some days I don't know if I can do another day.

I've never known pain like this. I've gone through the requisite horrible early 20's relationship, with the "world ending" when it did. I've gone through betrayals by people I trusted, and endured a relationship that never should have been. Nothing approaches this. I can't get the graphic memory of what his face looked like "that morning". I can't forget the coolness of his skin, and how he didn't react. I can't forget that horrible feeling the moment I realized that something serious was wrong. I can't forget the gurgle in his mouth when I tried to breathe into him. I can't forget the 911 operator telling me that adults usually start breathing after the series of chest compressions that I administered. I can't forget how I frantically RAN down the stairs to unlock the door, all the while thinking that I had to get oxygen into Mark. I had to protect his brain. I can't forget the constant thought, I've got to get oxygen into him...I must protect his brain. I can't forget how it seemed like an interminable wait, and how I repeatedly screamed at the operator "Why aren't they here yet?". I can't forget hearing the sirens get louder, and the final opening of the door with their loud greeting. And, lastly I can't forget sitting in the grass on a sunny July morning, rocking back and forth, waiting for them to rush Mark to the hospital on a stretcher, with bags hooked up to him. The longer I waited, the more I knew something was so wrong that it could never be right again.

He was my WHOLE family. He was my husband, my future child's father, my whole heart. Yes, I got mad at him at times, but there was NOTHING he could do that could not be forgiven. He knew that. He used to tell me that even if he committed the most horrible act in the world he knew that two women would be in prison on visiting day; his mother and me.

I told him a few times, but he didn't know how much I appreciated this house that he built for us. How many single men would have built a house for the family that they wanted to have? I looked out of the sunroom into the back yard this morning, searching for Hoover and appreciated the beauty of the room and of the beautiful yard. He created the sunroom, I created the yard, and together we raised our puppy. We could do so much together. I feel so lost without him. What he didn't know was that I am weak without him. He used to think that I was so much stronger than him. I was just more assertive. He was the source of my strength. It was easy to go out and fight "evil" if I knew that I could come home and be encircled by his arms.

Before I met him I thought I was strong. I was going to save the world. I didn't need a man. But I had a type of strength that would eventually burn out. You can only run on your "gut" strength for so long. I got a different, lasting strength from Mark. A strength based on love, trust and commitment. A strength that allowed me to be weak at times and need him. I don't regret it, I just have to figure out something new, because I can't go back.

There's a reasons why humans are social animals. We're weak alone, vulnerable to predators. In addition to tools revolutionizing human society, love has. Hold tight to your "tribe", with them you have the strength of Superman.