What Can I Say

A friend sent me this song yesterday:

Look to the clock on the wall
Hands hardly moving at all
I can't stand the state that I'm in
Sometimes it feels like the walls closing in

Oh, Lord, what can I say
I'm so sad since you went away
Time, time, ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be
Lord, what can I say

What can I say? I love Brandi's voice, so I pretty much always appreciate her songs. When I first played it, there was a huge part of me that wanted to say "I used to feel like that, but not anymore!" even though it isn't entirely true. I want to be over this loss, I really do, but I'm not yet.

I can honestly say that I'm not in the grip of it like I was. Although I do feel the way she sings about feeling here sometimes, I also experience other feelings. There's more space around the grief, and that in itself is huge.

I'm also trying to address the loneliness that I brought into my last relationship so that it isn't with me either when I'm alone or in another relationship. It's a big job, and a tough job too:

Try to burn my troubles away
Drown my sorrow the same way
Seems no matter how hard I try
Feels like there's something just missing inside

But I understand now that the something that is missing is a part of my own wholeness. It doesn't really have anything to do with any man, and it's me that has to address that piece.

Part of the reason this loss is so complicated for me is that the New Englander was the person, more than anyone else in my life besides my own children, who helped me move toward wholeness. So giving him up while on this path just felt wrong and counterintuitive to me. But he has his own path, and it must feel right to him because that's what he's chosen. Besides, although being with him facilitates my healing, it does feel like there's some of it that I have to do on my own:

Oh, Lord, what can I say
I'm so sad since you went away
Time, time, ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be
Lord, what can I say
Oh, Lord, what can I say

The line "alone is the last place I wanted to be" doesn't really feel true for me -- there are many aspects of being alone that I enjoy -- but again there's a complication in getting used to this period of aloneness that I've never had to deal with so profoundly. And that is just how much every part of me enjoyed being with him:

How many rules can I break
How many lies can I make
How many roads must I turn
To find me a place where the bridge hasn't burned

I don't know if the bridge between us has burned. I was talking to my spiritual teacher on Sunday and she told me that the New Englander has served me well in terms of calling me home (that's her terminology for looking deeply at oneself/doing your own work) and he continues to do that for me, even in the absence of communication. She said it may be that part of what feels so wrenching about letting go is that part of me knows there is still more he has to teach me, and I him.

Oh, Lord, what can I say
I'm so sad since you went away
Time, time, ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be
Lord, what can I say
Oh, Lord, what can I say

I'll say one more thing about how this loss feels today compared to how it has felt previously. It used to feel like some vital part of me had been amputated, leaving behind a bloody, misshapen, semi-functional mess. It doesn't feel that way anymore. Now it feels more like the coolest dog I ever had is dead. Part of me will always miss him, but I can live a full life without him. I'll never have another one with all the same awesome attributes, but when I'm ready, I can be open to discovering the wonder of another being...