I miss my person

I’d just like to say that being a widow fucking sucks, so appreciate every little annoying quirk and thing that your spouse does to drive you crazy and love them anyway and love them good!

Divine Intervention

Out of nowhere came this urgent need to reconnect with him. It had been several years but took only minutes before his voice was in my ear and he was damning me for reaching out again. I’d found him in limbo, which wasn’t actually surprising, he’d already done his stint in India, studying with the masters, becoming a Yogi and whoring the knowledge he’d gained for himself in order to survive. Always just trying to survive.

He was back in the states on the west coast, ready to head east if I gave the word. He was tired and just wanted to lie down, wanted to lie down with me. But I hesitated, as I always did, and no matter how brief or split second my pause, that was always the deciding factor.

We relived each moment spent, every truth ever told, forgave all the pain caused by endless lies and selfish deceptions. It was cleansing. It was cathartic. It was the most honest we’d ever been.

We said goodbye and promised to stay connected, though time slipped away and we never really did. Only after I found myself lost, once more wandering blind in the black abyss, did I reach for him again, only this time he did not come. I searched and quickly found that a brain tumor had taken my sage to the other side, just six months after we said our final goodbye.

I slipped deeper into the pit where no light could penetrate, lingering in my pain with no will to move from that place; and I stayed there for three long agonizing years. Until one night he came to me in a dream.

The next morning I searched and quickly found a message that previously had not been received. A comment left on a post he’d written after reading my words.

There must be something

Worse than being alone

More painful than lonely

Something other than death

Though I’ve yet to find it –

“I’ve been searching too. Nothing of value. I thought it was karma but it’s really just life. You move me with this one. This is powerful, this is truth…dying’s not so bad. I’m not haunting, but I am knocking.”

Death had changed me, for what I believed to be forever, loss had snuffed out my light and I knew there was no coming back; accepted as my fate to simply exist for my remaining days; until he threw a rope into the well of angst and urged me to climb out.

That changed me more than death could ever do, for in that moment I was reminded what my pain had allowed me to forget; there is no death, only a shift of worlds and our connection is never truly lost; and if he could throw me a rope from the other side of life, I could sure as hell reach out and take back mine.

~ jillterry 7.1.18

Life after Death

Death Changes Us –

I lost my first love to death at nineteen, chased his ghost for a decade; trying to find him, trying to find who I was without him, until I met the mate of my soul; found love with him so true and unconditional that I was totally free just to be and discover me. Now too, I have lost that love to death – my greatest love, my true love, my last love; and while I know exactly who I am now, don’t have to search or chase his ghost, for I see and feel him everywhere, in every thing, I can’t get past the pain of my broken heart to even fill my lungs with a full breath. Love changed us, it made us better, it created precious life from the best of both of us, it saved us more than once and his death has changed me still more. If I could feel anything past this pain perhaps I could find a way to peel my self off the floor. 
~ jill terry 7.7.16

Love lost

Byron Terry April 24, 1952 – August 31, 2015

I’ve known death and darkness, but the pain and devastation of losing my husband is like nothing I could ever have imagined. I wish it on no one. Travel well, my beautiful man, and know that when we meet again, I’m going to kick your ass hard and then hold you to your promise of living to 104; and taking those 41 years you owe me.

  

Gypsy Soul ~

A fortress she built, stronghold round her heart, burying the key within an ancient tomb, so that no man could do as once he had done ~
©2014 jillterry | gypsychyk.com

Ring of Fire

And she jumped through willingly, every ring of fire, an animal doing tricks, in hopes of pleasing her trainer; presents-a-plenty whenever she succeeded, loving words and tender touches that soothed the wounds and eased the burn. And though he longed to be her master, he misstepped one too many, and as any wild lioness, being tempted to be tamed, she didn’t take kindly to his mishandling, and that would-be masters heart she maimed.

©2014 jillterry | jillterry.com

In truth

He could no longer see the goodness, feel the warmth from the light that emanated from within her; no longer cared or believed her claims of love. For the vile hurtful words of truth penetrated deep, daggers slung with precision, straight to the heart. But instead of pulling them out and assessing the damage his truth perpetuated, in an attempt to heal his own wounds and those he inflicted on others, he preferred to leave them there to fester, become diseased, possibly be the death of him; so he could once again coast on pity, feigning the victim, while easing his conscience in convincing himself that she was just like all the rest. When in truth, there had never been another like her, nor would there ever be again.

©2013 jillterry | jillterry.com

Hidden truths

The pain we carry
Whether real or
Mental phantoms
Keep us trapped

No matter what hope
We think we’ve found
Or how deep a mark
We believe we’ve made

The illusion fades
Because it’s a mere
Surface reflection
Of who we really are

In fear we retreat
Back inside ourselves
Not wanting to reveal
Or able to self heal

Our hidden truths

Personal demons
That cause fear and pain
With the power to drive
All else away

©jillterry
jillterry.com