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Who am I now?



Ray and I at his favorite restaurant, The Ridge Inn, in Laurelville. He's been gone two years and 7 months. Perhaps someday I'll figure out the question that haunts me.


Who am I now? 

I’ve thought about this a lot lately -

As I turn another year older this week.

I’ve lived my life taking care of others.

But that part of my journey is over.

What do I do now?

Who am I supposed to be?

The familiar is unfamiliar. 

I’m alone. No direction. No goals. No leader.

I walk in circles.

I aim for one place, end up in another.

I belong nowhere.

To no one.

The odd piece 

in a puzzle.

One person’s death

Took away my identity.

Who was I then?

Who am I now?

                                          ******

Thanks for reading.   Comments welcome.

Comments

  1. I think those same thoughts but mostly because my daughter moved across the country from me. My life was taking care of her. My husband works long hours and I spend a lot of time alone especially in all the new towns we move too. Your situation is difficult. I can't imagine losing my wife status. Do your children live nearby? Or a good friend? Cause that's who you are now--a friend, a mom, a writer, a person with possibilities and potential. That's what I'm learning. Being me takes work and finding me is hard. You will get there! Praying for you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks Terri for those kind words. I've loved watching your home take shape.
    I have three adult daughters, two in Oh not too far from me and one in KY.
    I have eight grandchildren, from adult to ten years old. Love the words, being me takes work and finding me is hard. What a beautiful sentiment and exactly what I was trying to say. Just took me more words. God bless.

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  3. You are a beautiful spirit that has been housed in a caregiving cell and now released to rediscover yourself. Enjoy the journey and worry not who you are, for it shall change as often as the sun rises . . . and what fun it that.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Barbara, I am touched deeply by your post. Life, like writing, is difficult. We know the drill, we know the "ups and downs" as your blog title indicates. As writers, we can control the story, the characters, the emotion. In life, God bless us, we are part of another's story. To have loved someone so deeply as you loved Raymond, his passing as left a very big space in your heart. Even though Raymond is no longer with you, he is, no doubt urging you to carry on with your writing, your family, your friends. I never believe that the hole left by a loved one is to be filled by something else. That little hole left in your heart is a reminder that you have loved deeply and that particular love is a part of you forever, even beyond death. Just the same as Raymond's love for you rests in that vacant part of your heart. I love you dearly, and know that you are never alone.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Sending you a cyber-hug, Barbara. I wish I were wise enough to be able to offer you some advice, but I'm glad there are others who know more than me. I think you're a pretty cool lady.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm glad that you haven't had this journey Saralee. It isn't a fun one.
      Thanks for your sweet words. Hugs.

      Delete
  6. Lovely prose poem. My take? You're a writer, you're a poet, you're a strong woman. You're an example, a leader, an inspiration. And I'm just getting started.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Rhonda,
      Thanks for your kind words. I so appreciate. I'm praying for you and the journey you're taking. Hugs, God Bless. Holding Randy up to our Heavenly Father who is still in the healing business. PTL.

      Delete
  7. I couldn't stop myself when I read title of your blog "writing - the ups and down" in one bloggers follow list. I loved what you have written. I'm not old or wise enough to give advice. God bless you. Hugs.

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  8. There are so many situations that throw us into another season of life where suddenly we once again are asking ourselves, who am I, and where am I going?

    At least we have our writing. :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. Barb, your beautiful words draw such an vivid picture of grief's aftershock. I am so sorry for your loss.

    ReplyDelete

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