Mutability

 Entry 1.    9:19 a.m.

Shelly believed that when passionate love dies, you move on and find anew that passion from someone else. He was in his 20s, obviously. I would probably have made the same claim at that age had I been brash enough, believing that we deserve to permanently have such intoxication as that feeling you

Willow, as I write.

get when you are with a new lover.

I am not in my 20s, they may as well be as far as the dark side of the moon now. Passion has it's place, even now, and even if only in short glints. But there is for me, the understanding and appreciation now for the aged scotch, the fermented grape and the steady bough of a long standing oak tree that I didn't appreciate in my more impetuous, less thoughtful days. Longevity has it's place. There is something more tender and profound in a lasting love, of a marriage fired by adversity and struggle that still carries on decade after decade. I look at the love of my friends Aimee and Robb or Eachean and Stephanie, and realize that I held much less than fool's gold all those years, I held a fool's heart.  Here is to hoping it can heal.  Cheers.

 

From Shelly's Mutability:

The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world’s delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.

Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.

Entry 2    10:16 p.m.

I'm seeing people everyday. I am enjoying that. Ashley was the highlight of the day, making time while home from Hawaii to see family, was kind. Tomorrow Aimee comes over and I will see more friends and family this weekend. It keeps my spirits level.  

I am tired, I don't think I have grieved adequately. I am not trying to grieve or not grieve, but it just rarely comes. I don't know if that is because of how long it was Jenny was dying--I was certainly mourning throughout that period.  I am not going to deny the hurt, disappointment and anger I feel, but mostly I am left baffled. Utterly baffled. For more reasons than I probably can list, I am stumped at the turn of events with regard to the relationship. How was I so blind? How could she be so unfeeling toward me, so disinterested in our children? How did I not understand the depth of her distaste and disgust with me? How could she just blatantly lie and denigrate me? How could so many people be willing to help her, and never ask her about when she planned on doing things with the kids or family? Not a question. The chats I saw were almost devoid of mention of them. People didn't notice? How come I couldn't get her to be interested in spending time with the kids and me? Why would she spend so much time in therapy blatantly lying to the therapist and me about how she couldn't see Eric? Did she just want to get her way, no matter the cost? Did I give enough? Did I give too much? How did I let this get so terrible? Would it have been better for me to leave (an irrelevant question because I could never have done so)? When she lied to people, and they came to see us, and I was waiting on her hand and foot without complaint, or cooking dinner, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, mowing the lawn, caring for the dogs, scrubbing the bathroom floors, taking her to her doctor's appointments, etc., how could they not see the disconnect between her lies about me and the truth? Judging from the text conversations that weren't deleted, apparently her friends could not understand. 

When she had friends come over, I would retreat downstairs to allow them to hang out when we lived in Ravenna. She would tell people, I saw in her texts, I left  because I am so introverted--later being less solicitous and saying I am antisocial. In fact, I was being polite. Had I not been, it may have been harder for her to spin her tales. These people all knew me, had met me myriad times. Were they simply fellow travelers, along for the soap opera? What is clear is they were willing to believe untruths when the acts I engaged in and the facts in front of them contradicted Jenny's narrative.