Thursday, January 21, 2016

Remembering Georg

Who Was He? (written by Georg Wunschl, 1968, age 19)

He did not think of yesterday or tomorrow
He did not dream of the day after he lived
It was the way of a man to be indifferent,
To be sought, not to seek
To be alive was good
To ride far on a day like this,
With the sun shining, the sky cloudless,
And the tall buttes of red rock rising into the blue,
Was to live.

Life as I have known it for the last 46 years has come to end.  My childhood sweetheart, lover, partner, friend and husband as gone on to his reward.  After almost a month sitting by his bedside in the hospital and a memorial service on Sunday I am back now in a house that is crushingly empty.  I automatically set a place for him at the table, save DVR TV programs for him to watch later, wonder what I am making him for dinner.  Now begins a new chapter of my life and for the first time I can't imagine my future.  I am a single, not a couple.  Will my relationships change with all of my couple friends we used to socialize with?  I have a newfound insight for many other women friends who lost their husbands and have become widows.  Did I do enough to help them through this process?  Probably not, and I regret that.

The memorial service was a celebration of his life, attended by over 250 people.  I wanted no sadness, only a chance to convey what a special person he was: kind, listening, caring, always ready to enjoy life.  He would never argue or fight with me, even when I wanted to.  He never said a bad word about anyone and hated gossip.  He called his elderly mother every day at noon, visiting her every Wednesday and together with me every Sunday.  Because he never interrupted and only spoke when he was 100% sure of what he was saying, some people might describe him as "simple", not knowing how deep he really was.  He wrote poetry when he was younger.  I saved all his poems and every scrap of paper we wrote to each other over the years, starting when we wrote notes to each other in high school every day because our parents wouldn't let us see one another.  Rereading those notes now I am touched by how much he loved me.  One takes that for granted after 46 years of marriage.  It brings to mind the song, "Do You Love Me?" from the musical Fiddler on the Roof.

One of his early teenage poems, echoes my feelings exactly now that I don't have him anymore.

What Am I Without You

a baby without a blanket
in the cold
old night of loneliness
a christmas with
no santa
or no snow
the harsh winds blow
i am nothing
i am no one
i have no place to go
i am lonely in a crowd
i'm sad
no, mad
but where am I to go?
i sit down by a bus stop
on a cold
old worn down step
i wave goodbye to people
i say my stop is next
i live for every sunday
sunday never comes
and now
and i fear it will never...

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