There Is No Arizona! Post #70

I returned home in July and began the process of sorting and prioritizing my life, preparing to be 'two' once again. But then Scott died...just like that! After all that fighting for his life, prayer, recovery, getting engaged, and looking forward to our future together, he was gone!

It was as though the previous six-months, Scott and I were adrift in the ocean riding the waves; some were huge and insurmountable that sucked us under for a time but, somehow when each wave passed, both our heads popped back

out of the water as we anticipated the next one. We fought, we cried, and we clung to each other as each wave towered over us trying our damnedest to stay together. 'Stay together! We must not get separated!' Then suddenly, somebody hit the pause button just after the last big wave hit and only my head popped out of the water. Though the pause button remained on, I was conscious, unlike when we pause a movie and we just know the characters are frozen in both time and consciousness and will start right where they left off, never knowing they were paused. Only this time, I was frozen in conscious suspended automation, (God I love those two words) watching the world continue to swirl around me.

Then the waves changed to a quiet abyss with fog raising out of it and Scott was nowhere to be found. There was no togetherness now. We were torn apart, he on one side and me on the other, unable to see or talk to each other, though our heart strings were still attached and I had somehow tried to delude myself into believing that, with all the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, perhaps my heart could beat for the two of us.

And somehow, in the back of my mind, I believed that he would be there waiting for me at the airport when I arrived in Phoenix for his funeral. We would go visit our special places and then even attend the service together! He would join his 

mom, my sister, Kare, and I on the upper deck of the Point Hilton to watch the blood moon that showed it's splendor the night after his funeral. I was certain he would at least show up at the pool for morning coffee or appear at the table with me at the Mexican Restaurant that we loved. But he never showed.

Back in Mobile, there were so many things I had wanted Scott to experience that are unique to 'here'. Every time I immersed myself in them, my mind told me he would be showing up at any second. It was like having that imaginary friend as a kid that only you could see. The things we had so looked forward to enjoying together, I was doing alone, often wondering if he would have loved it as much as me.

When our significant other passes, we are thrust into a world that most people only know from observing others going through it. But there are so many elements that can only be discovered in first person experience. For example, when we walk our loved-one through illness and fight so hard for their life focusing only on them, and they don't make it, there is suddenly nothing left to fight for. The world just stops!

I remember realizing, once again, that 'I' exist, yet the lady in the mirror had become a stranger and it took several weeks to realize that perhaps I was not okay. I was thrust back to real life with the task to move forward - alone. But the full realization that the life we had planned no longer exists didn't hit immediately. Rather it was like discovering I had been cheated, but not realizing how bad until more was revealed over time. With each revelation, I felt shock all over again, as if Scott had just died. For example, I still kept thinking I would be living in Arizona and had even contacted a realtor asking questions about about a house Scott had been interested in for us, only to be jolted into reality that I would not be living there. And my house did not need to expand for Scott living here. My niece told me about the song 'There Is No Arizona' and I have to laugh at the irony of it. But fate was the 'he' that had lied to me. Lied to us!

There is no Arizona
No painted desert, no Sedona
If there was a Grand Canyon
She could fill it up with the lies he's told her
But they don't exist, those dreams he sold her
She'll get there and find
There is no Arizona

Arizona was canceled! Our trips to Ireland, France, the Grecian Islands, and all over the US... canceled...just like that! My wedding was canceled – twice! A joint graduation party in each state...canceled! Ballroom dance lessons together, canceled! We would never bring to life the silhouettes in the pictures we loved. We – Scott and I – would never be 'them' – the silhouettes! My future was canceled and when I tried to look ahead to the rest of my life, all I could see was that gray fog.

A couple of months after losing Scott, one of my best friends in Mobile, who happens to be a counselor encouraged me to date. That sounded so absurd and I secretly questioned her effectiveness as a therapist. I thought back to a good friend back in 2007 who, in her early 50's had met a wonderful man and they, too, dated long-distance. He was out for his daily jog and suffered a fatal heart attack.

 I watched her walk through it seemingly emotionless, now knowing she was in shock. Three months later, she was dating and the girls in our group and I raised our eyebrows in disdain saying, “Well, I guess she really loved him didn't she!” We were not the gossipy type and were true friends to each other, but we were embarrassed for her moving so fast. As karma would have it, I learned the hard way that we all think that we know exactly how to handle a situation and what we would do if it were us. But the reality is, we don't! Not even remotely! And I found that all of my own ideals about the shining example I would be, had I been in her shoes, were not even on the list of options when it was me in that situation.

It was not an easy choice to decide to date.   After much agonizing over the prospect, I met someone weeks after this advice was given (months after Scott's death).   We connected right away and, looking back, it was because he was willing to talk about Scott, he asked questions and basically walked through the rest of the first year with me and I walked him through his mothers death. He was a God-send as I don't know how I would have gotten through it otherwise.

The relationship didn't take the away pain of losing Scott, but it helped smooth the first year milestones. Valentines Day that was supposed to be our secret wedding day in Sedona, graduation, the anniversary of his recovery, our engagement (July 4^th) etc. But that was a double-edged sword because when the road of our relationship took separate paths last spring, the anniversaries were still there, though the hardest first year was done. The memories and the sense of loss were still alive and well.

The journey of grief is inescapable and it is a road that must be traveled by all of us at

some point. No matter how much we try to bury it, run from it, stay busy, surround ourselves with friends, or even a new relationship, it is patiently waiting for our attention. The only choice we have about grief is how we frame it. It is there waiting for us in the dead of night; especially when we must face the journey alone. In the depths of grief, when my heart has been sliced open and my pain exposed for what feels like the world to see, I am forced to remember, to feel, to laugh and cry. It is then that I realize, grief is a gift. It is nothing more than that friend which none of us wants but, when it seeks us out, we can't get rid of it until we walk through the pain and accept life on new terms, and then move forward to live and love our life in spite of the loss.

Posts that tell Scott and my story:
The Waiting Place:   #58
A Spoken Word:   #59
Will You Be My Valentine:  #61
Arizona For Valentines Day:  #62
After the Waiting Place:  #66
Two Sillouettes Dancing:   #67
The Hour Glass is Empty:    #69
There is No Arizona:   #70