I speak of the unspeakable: Her breasts are gone, leaving scars that suck oxygen out of my lungs, my eyes can’t linger, my hands fear the touch. A hack job, barbaric, and it saved her life. I’m grateful. Her worth is not about body parts. So why is my grief so raw, so bloody, so spirit sucking. I don’t end the last sentence with a question mark; answers mean nothing to me. It’s just an “is,” a statement
couched in the rhetorical. I don’t want to hear about someone’s idea of their god’s plan, or my perceived ingratitude, or that I’ll soon come to acceptance—I understand the stages of grief. But this loss has been locked in my throat, better left unsaid. But to make my way through it all, I need to scream my angst out into the universe, so here it is: Her breasts were part of our mutual love, our physically intimate moments, and my solace–and I feel like a shit for caring so much!
The ache will fade, overtime, but not its shadow.
(Naturally, I needed something, to read what, scroll down to: “My Adult Beverage.”)
Sometimes words don’t seem enough. I remember the kindness and joy you and Elaine brought to my life. Shoveling my driveway in a blizzard (“We’re queer and we’re here!”); carrying my presentation materials at MRS (you carried them all, saying, “It balances me.”); Elaine driving me to the ER with chest pains and refusing to leave; dinner and A Prarie Home Companion. You’be given joy to others and yourselves. I hope your lives contain much more.
Oh Wow! It’s so good to hear from you Mary!! You were a person who came into my life and I liked from out, “hello.” And moments later, loved, and as time moved on, admired beyond belief! I love the play of your drums. Elaine and I would so love to see you if your world travels brings you back this way. Reaching out and touching me has lifted my spirits. Hugs and much love to you!
Hi Mary, we miss you so much. Hope you will let us know the next time you are in the area!! We would love to see and spend time with you.
My heart breaks for you both as you grieve. I cannot know your experience, as it hasn’t happened to me — yet. But I can offer my love and caring for both of you at this time of loss. You see, you two women are two of the dearest in the world to me — a beautifully matched pair, so strong, so tender, so loving, so meant to be together. I am so sad that you’re hurting. May joy come back to your lives and your spirits lift. Know that you are much loved. Bobbie
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