There are many family and friends who ask me, who tell me, I need to start writing again. They don’t realize, though, how difficult a request that is for me. I believe for me to begin writing again means that this is the first thing I need to write about, but to do so is so very painful. I also know that this will be painful for others to read.
I began this blog when my husband and I lived apart for a year. We did so only because life and obligations dictated it. It was my way of keeping us close. He loved the posts and would email me with topics to write about. Many of which I did. He was my biggest fan. He was my muse, and I never realized it.
On November 2, 2012 I came home from work and he was gone. A massive heart attack had taken the life of my beloved. There are so many things I remember about that day. Many I can’t and won’t share, but the one thing that stays with me is that I didn’t want to be at work that day. It wasn’t the typical “it’s Friday, let’s get this over with” thing. I was extremely antsy and had an overwhelming sense of foreboding. I was anxious to be home with him. There was so much I wanted to tell him.
And now creativity, in writing and in other aspects, seems joyless…almost silly. There are times that just dealing with life…work, bills, chores, is all my brain can handle. I know he’d hate that. He was, among other wonderful things, a joyful person. His joy was contagious.
On so many occasions happy, random memories of our life together seem to come to me out of the blue, things I haven’t thought about in years, and many times I find I channel one of his quirky phrases in reaction the simplest things. These things make me smile. He is in my heart, and will always be, but I know now, in hindsight, that his joy for me fed my creativity. He was my muse, and now my muse is gone.
Maybe writing this will expel some of the pain. Maybe writing again can be my way of honoring him. Maybe those random memories and Bruce-isms can take over now and bring back my muse.