Hungers

[HAP]

Dear friends,

I looked at myself in the mirror the other day—I mean really looked—not like I do when I shave or brush my teeth. I did not recognize the person staring back at me in the glass. Jane’s death 25 months ago from NET cancer has changed me as much physically as mentally and emotionally.

I don’t know what caused me to look. Maybe it was a passing glance that turned to fascination. But had I seen me in the street I would not have known me. Even the eyes have changed. There is sternness there instead of the twinkle I had grown used to over our 21 years three months and eight days of marriage. And my smile has died.

I should not be surprised. Our lives were two intertwined vines, locked together from root to crown. No gardener could have pulled out one without damaging the other. When the NET cancer ripped her away, half my roots and stems and branches went with her—and the bits of her that remain tangled in me have hardened to such stiffness that removing them would kill what is left of me.

Over time I will grow around those parts of her that remain in me—encase them within the bark of my being. But for now, they are all sharp and brittle. They scrape against me and wear down the edges of me, leaving dark scars and avenues for invasion of the soft tissue beneath.

Eventually, perhaps, those sores will callus over. I am in no position to know. My vegetable existence is caught up in the moment. I explore the pain of it like a tongue caressing the place in the mouth the teeth have just errantly bit. The taste of it is salty and bitter and tinged with the regret of a self-inflicted wound.

I’ve been reading a book—From We to Me. At one point the authors talk about something they call “skin hunger.” We are addicted to our lover’s touch—and when it vanishes we become so starved for it that the hunger leaves us open to a thousand poor relationship choices.

I know precisely what they are talking about. There was not a day we did not touch in those 21 years. At the end we held hands at every opportunity—and would have held each other more closely if we could have. Before they sealed her casket, I stood alone in the chapel and kissed her forehead, nose, and lips as I had every night before we slept. And before they lowered the coffin into the ground, I gave it one last kiss, wishing it were her.

And now, there is nothing. I go days—sometimes weeks—with no physical contact with another human being of any kind. I crave even a handshake—and a hug…a hug is a pleasure almost beyond imagining. But neither of those comes close to the feel of her next to me in the bed at night—an hours’ long snuggle that stands in memory like a myth of the gods.

But there is a thing even worse than that physical absence. I had no name for it until two days ago. I call it “soul hunger.” And it is a privation that makes “skin hunger” the merest wisp of desire by comparison. If friends are, as Plato would have it, a single soul in two bodies, what, then, are lovers, whose unity grows out of true friendship?

I miss Jane’s touch; I miss touching her; but it is the absence of her soul that grieves me most and throws my mind into chaos. A hug can be had for the price of a hug—but there is no price nor barter for the brush of a vanished soul.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Oh, Harry, I do understand soul hunger so well....we who were so deeply intertwined with our spouses so miss that more than anything. I want to respond more fully to your post as it is beyond my ability to respond to without sitting with it and re reading it and it came in just as I was sitting down to pay bills....so I will finish that task that I have successfully postponed for a few days and then switch from task to soul and respond a bit later.

Peace to your soul,

Mary

[srm]

Yet again you put to words what I feel. Thank you.

[enna]

Thank you Harry. After rereading your post I now have a name for that which I’m missing so much – hunger. I cried.

I too have been struggling with the sad face I see in the mirror every day.

There has to be something in our inner most beings that two people connect with when they find each other. For you, 21 years three months and eight days of marriage – for me almost forty years of living, breathing, and treasuring a soul partner.

I love your story. As sad as it is there is a glimmer of hope for me. We are strong and we do survive even in our most intense pain. My journey is only beginning and many others on this forum have been on their journey for a long time.

One of the favorite sentences in your story is - ‘No gardener could have pulled out one without damaging the other.’ This is how I feel about the loss of Jim.

I will be reading the book—From We To Me

Thank you for sharing. It helps so very much to know that there are others who are missing a part of themselves also and always will. Anne

[MartyT]

Oh Harry. Your words leave me breathless.

May I have your permission to add this post to our Voices series? This so deserves a wider audience . . .

[mfh]

Dear Harry,

I have read and re-read your post. I have printed it out for my special grief file. It expresses so very well how I feel. I do not feel or see sternness in the mirror but deep sadness, emptiness and yes....an insatiable soul hunger. Soul hunger is such a powerful and appropriate name for all our pain and loss and emptiness and feeling of being lost. It makes me weep as the word "YES" screams through every cell of my being and every part of my soul. It is the soul connection, once in a lifetime soul connection, that is so missing from my life (and yours and all of ours). I feel Bill's and my souls were one long before we set eyes on each other and that they will always be one. We recognized each other instantly when we met. When he died...my soul was and remains in shock and yes...starvation...a starvation that nothing can fill. The hole left by his absence is huge (I dug out a poem I wrote last year about this hole and will post it as a pdf). Thank you for saying what you feel not only poetically but in a way that reaches down deep into my being and reverberates with a deep knowingness.

As for physical touch, I think women do that so much more easily than men. I do get hugs from girlfriends fairly often and feel free to initiate them with certain people and I am a touchy feeling person to some degree and so I touch people who then touch me back. No hug comes even remotely close to being hugged and held by Bill, however. None last long enough...the longing to be held for more than 20 seconds is painful and deep. No one has held me since Bill and I were wrapped around each other as he exhaled for the last time. I find that any men I am around, though warm, do not touch me. Skin hunger will always be there yes, but it is the soul hunger that will never go away which is so much more difficult to accept and live with.

On Bill's funeral program I quoted my cousin who wrote to me, "I cannot imagine what it feels like; like part of your lungs quit breathing and your heart quits beating....though we exit alone the vines of our lives are so intertwined and rooted that it will take a long time to gently lift them off your heart." You and I and others know there is no lifting of those vines...they have grown together as my clematis vines do and two separate vines become one vine. Indeed they would break and our very ability to breathe would disappear if we attempted to separate them.

Thank you so much for sharing of your vulnerability and nakedness. You are a gift to all of us.

May you find moments of peace as you walk this path and as you "grow around the parts of her that remain in you" slowly and over time.

Mary

This is close as I could come at the time to your perfect word: "soul hunger". Now you have captured it as no other has. The Hole.pdf

[HAP]

Thank you all for your kind words. I am shortly going to the cemetery--my tenth of the month ritual.

Marty, as always, yes. Do with it what you will. At some point I really do need to collect these things together for a book. Just not yet.

Peace,

Harry

[MartyT]

That would be a book worth reading, Hap. Thanks for granting your permission to reprint. I'll let you all know when it is up on the blog. ♥

[mfh]

Harry, I was hoping you would consider that.

Mary

[Wifflesnook]

Harry, this is a poem written by my Pete for me for one of my birthdays. It uses the same metaphors you used and I put it in his funeral booklet:-

For Jan (Pete C.)

In all the years we've been together

Long years that seem not years at all

Our lives are now so intertwined

Vines themselves could not cling closer.

Each day I think I love you more

Yes, more and more, it's true, I promise.

On this your birthday I rejoice,

Utterly glad that you're my wife!

It's a great blessing for me to read it, but it doesn't remove any of the pain I have felt since May when he died. And I know I shall feel it until I too die, because I will never get over losing Pete who was everything to me for almost fifty years. Everything you say I can relate to. And yes, the change in me is horrible. I feel my face set in a deep sadness whereas my default expression when Pete and I were happy and together was a contented expression. I'd .like to smile but it isn't a real smile very often. And the hunger for touch and the soul hunger. Yes you speak to my soul itself. I didn't see Pete after he died because we used to say to each other after we went to see his grandma that as it wasn't her lying in the coffin we wouldn't do it again. So I respected what we had said and I didn't go to see him. I sometimes wish I had, because he died 50 miles away from me the day after our grand daughter was born. Now I kiss the urn with his ashes in which rests on our dressing table. It's the nearest I can get to him. Oh yes the snuggles in bed, but yes, even more the soul to soul which people who have grown together know, and which is totally unbearable to lose. You express so well what it's like, Harry.

[kayc]

All I can say is, "Wow". It recapitulates what I feel inside of me.

[LarrysGirl]

Your words describe what I call gut wrenching pain, I like your description much better. I miss the hand holding, going shopping for groceries was fun for us, one would grab each others hand and it brought such comfort and love. I love his hands, strong but tender and I felt safe for the only time in my life. At night, trying to sleep, I still reach for him, just to touch him and know all is well. But it is not.

This existence is not living. Yet, when I try to find a way to begin again, I cannot. I think my body has responded to my lifeless heart and doesn't know what else to do, so illness, pain and depression have found a home. Deborah

[enna]

I hear you and acknowledge your feeling about ‘my body has responded to my lifeless heart and doesn’t know what else to do, so illness, pain and depression have found a home’ Deborah. My wish for you is that this ‘home’ you talk about will be very temporary. We all have our timelines in grief. This I am finding to be a very painful reality. I am convinced that the more I focus on being still the more I open myself to that new normal we all hear about when on our grief journeys.

I have a friend on FB and she told me something that I had not thought about before and that is – let grief be your friend. Don’t try to ‘get over’ it. This seems to help me in accepting the fact that my Jim is dead and I do not have to put him away rather I can carry him with me all the time. Jim will not be with me as he was yet he will always be in my being. Jim will hear me when I talk with him. Jim will hear me when I cry and have no words to carry on any conversation. Jim will be right there at the mirror Harry spoke about and tell me that I am beautiful and he would like to see me smile more. Jim will encourage me to express my grief to anyone – don’t bottle it up. Jim will encourage me to grow a new life and know that whatever I do I will do it with the same determination I had when we were soulmates living and breathing on this earth. As simple as it sounds we have to care for ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually so we can have the energy to renew ourselves. My wish is that all of us on our grief journeys be compassionate with ourselves. Let’s look in those mirrors and acknowledge the sadness but also see the smiles that we all used to have when our loved ones were alive. Anne

[kayc]

Anne,

What you speak of is what I have learned along the way. George is always with me even though he can't physically be here to hold me. He is rooting me on as I have to do things I've never had to do and as I make my way through this hard economy and despairing maze our government has left us with. I only hope I can do half what George thinks I can.

[enna]

I'm just checking in with all of us to see how many have looked in the mirror and saw a smile back. Harry, I hope you are seeing that smile. We will always be sad and heartbroken but we also will continue on with purpose. I am also reading the book from we to me that you mentioned when you first posted here and it doesn't seem like a reality that I'll ever come to 'embrace' life again! I keep going over and over again in my mind the song 'Who Am I Now Without You' and can't really come up with answers. Perhaps I need more time. Our journeys all seen to be going in the same direction just on different paths. Hunger is an interesting word. We often think of it in terms of food only when in reality it denotes a pain of something we do not have anymore. Those of us who have lost spouses are without the touch we were accustomed to and in order to 'embrace' this and move forward we need to decide if being single is right for us. Such an individual decision. My option is clear to me now. Jim is my only option so I have a responsibility to myself to begin to 'embrace' that reality. I guess this is where the healing begins. It will be interesting to see where I am in five years! Anne

[HAP]

Dear Anne,

The problem with the book is I am not sure I was ready for it after two years. I just really liked the concept of skin hunger.

No smile in my mirror yet other than the forced variety. I do smile sometimes--it just never gets caught in my mirror.

Peace,

Harry

[enna]

I am not going to finish the book from we to me because I am not there yet if ever, Harry. I miss what Jim and I had together. I miss his touch and everything about him. I am still confused when someone asks me if I'm married or single! I say I'm widowed.

It is hard to smile but I've been doing a little more of it now that I have a new little gentleman (a dog) named Benji in my life. I've written about him in another post if you're interested. Keep warm during these cold months. I am so glad I live in the south west. Anne

[kayc]

It has taken me a long time to get from "we" to "me" and I haven't read the book. Reading is something I avidly enjoyed "before" that I can't seem to focus or finish a book now. I've accepted that it is just another one of those changes that took place when I lost George. I have tried and tried...it is not the books, it can be the most interesting book, but I can't focus like I once did.

I always considered George my soulmate, we fit together so perfectly, we really complemented one another. It was easy to think of him as "my other half". I know he felt the same way about me. When he died, I felt incomplete, like my other half was missing, gone. Today I realize I am me, I always was me, with or without someone else in my life. What we had was something so special, but I was never lacking parts of me, I was whole, I just didn't realize it. It has taken me years to make that discovery and it was so gradual, there was never a defining moment when a lightbulb clicked on. By the same token, I seriously doubt I could ever find anyone in the entire world that would go with me as well as George did. We felt each other's hearts from the very beginning, we could relate to each other, communicate very well, had faith in each other, it was just so perfect. We went together with our taste in music, what we like to watch on t.v., our interests in life, our love of nature and animals, our thinking. We were enough different to go together and bring to the table the other aspects of what we were lacking. I was the practical stable one, the one with a budget and an eye for numbers. He was the adventuresome one, the one with the zest for life and spontaneity. I will always miss him and my life has lacked that zeal and enjoyment since he has been gone. He was the spark in my life. I was his ground.

[Dwaynecg]

Dear Harry, Skin Hunger! That is what I have the hardest part of grief to deal with. I know Pauline is with me all the time. Some nights, I hear her breathing next to me, feel the warmth of her body, but as I turn to hold her again , all those are gone. I long so much to have that human touch of her again. We were and still are one soul, one beating heart, so close together, I knew her thoughts before she spoke them. Soul mates, Best friends, nothing we could never talk about, no secrets ever kept. The same as you and Jane, and many others on here. At my job I see many people every day. Sometimes I can share with them about Pauline, and my new start in life. When I come home I still feel comfort, but long for her touch. I like you when looking in the mirror see a man who is tatter and torn, by thistle, and thorn, but when Doctors, and nurses who had seen Pauline and I just before she passed, and just after her passing, they see a strong healthy man, looking so much better. That are their words to me. So who do I really see in the mirror, the man under the skin? I think so.God Bless, My Friend,DwayneIt has been said, TIME HEALS all WOUNDS. I do not agree. The WOUNDS remain. In TIME the MIND protecting its SANITY, cover them with scar tissue, and the PAIN LESSENS, but is NEVER GONE.!!!!! ROSE KENNEDY

[MartyT]

Harry, my dear, your beautiful piece is now up on the Grief Healing Blog: Voices of Experience: Soul Hunger in Love and Loss

[HAP]

Thank you, Marty.

Harry

[mfh]

Harry, I read (for the umpteenth time) your piece on soul hunger on Facebook today. Marty posted it on her Grief Healing page. I shared it because I think it so well captures what we who have lost our spouses feel every single day. Thank you in advance for the healing it will bring to many.

I hope someday all of us can look in that mirror and see peace looking back at us. I am getting closer to that day and even do see it once in a while (especially when I slow down as I have this month) but frankly, behind the peace there is always the sadness which I can not imagine ever NOT seeing there. I will walk my days with both.

Peace to your heart,

Mary

[mfh]

I decided this is a good place for this post...soul hunger. I am watching the inaugural events. I love ritual with its tradition and hope. What struck me just now is that when the Biden and Obama took their oath, their wives held the Bible...as usual. It was taken for granted that their spouses would be right there next to them at this important moment...in essence recognized that Biden and Jill, Obama and Michele are one unit, one soul, one being. That is what I miss..having my other half next to me at life's big and little moments.

Mary

[kayc]

Yes, Mary, I hear you. It's hard going through life alone and knowing there is no one that cares in the way our spouses did. No one that leaves the garage light on.

[HAP]

Dear friends,

So who will I get to hold the relevant text for me when I am elected President? I'm not being glib. I think about politics often and have been tempted to pursue it. But you put so plainly how close the bond is that I don't know what i would do now in that moment. Not making much sense, I'm afraid.

Peace,

Harry

P.S. Jane was always turning out the garage light after i came through it. I miss that.