I love you to the core of my soul.
When you asked me to marry you, my heart held all the joy in the world.
Yet, the fear of the future and concern about how I’d deal if I were to lose you because of our age difference, it frightened me to my soul.
I weighed the odds and decided that another love like ours could never be.
I hugged you in true laughter, and said yes, but I made you promise me at least 20 years.
What a fool I was, short-changing myself and not asking for thirty.
Your promise gave me 22,
That fateful fear that’d sometimes niggled at my mind, came back to bite.
No amount of years would have ever been enough to have to let you go.
I love you now, still, and forever.
I love you forever into the beyond.
God gifted me you, but only on loan. Because he wanted you back.
You were my lesson on love.
I tasted true unconditional love,
A gift that many have been denied the privilege.
You’re a gift that will blanket my heart for the rest of my days.
I love you.

One year ago today, I lost the love of my life. I can’t even fathom the thought it’s been one year. It still aches like yesterday. My heart is still heavy, and the missing is a continuous gaping hole in my heart.
Today I will visit my husband’s grave, our grave, and lay a new rock upon the headstone. Although I feel the need to visit his grave, I feel him more when I’m home, or wherever I go, as though he is with me. He sends me lots of signs, so I know this much.
The only thing I’ve learned about heart-wrenching grief, is that it never subsides. Each wave that comes over me is like a fresh wound. It doesn’t get easier, I just learn to dance around it when it hits. I don’t suppose it ever goes away because as long as there was love, there will always be grief for the giant loss that resides in my heart.
Next week I will begin planning a celebration of life for my Puppy, the one Covid restrictions denied him; just like the Covid hospital restrictions that added to his demise. I still carry a lot of anger inside for that.
Ours was a true love story, and such as grief is, the more we love, the harder and longer we will grieve.
In the past year, I watched my husband die daily before my eyes. My heart was ripped, yet I had to carry on taking care of him because it was all I could do. I cast my brokenness aside, held back my tears and wouldn’t even admit to myself that my other half was leaving me. Until he did.
I packed up 25 years of our life together, gave things away and moved two months later. I don’t even know how I did it all, I just felt like I was on auto pilot going through the motions.
It was my friends who got me through the difficult days, allowing me to speak about him, about the pain, without any interruption or words of empowerment. Grievers don’t need all those foofie condolences, they need love and support and an ear to blanket the soul, for there are no solutions. Grief is just a process that one must journey through alone. But ears and hugs go a long way to comfort. So I thank my wonderful circle of friends, both here and at home, and all of you here for your love and support and for giving me back some of the ‘normal’ I need to continue on.

I’m a longggg way from healing, but I’m doing and showing up, and taking in all the moments of gratitude along this painful road. And the only thing that keeps me doing so is believing my husband is still always here with me.
I came across the perfect word while reading things in one of the online grief groups I follow. There is a Portuguese word called ‘Saudade’, pronounced ‘Sodahd’. In the article I read it talked about this being the perfect word for which there isn’t a perfect English translation. But the gist of the word is it means a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for something or someone that one loves despite them being gone. It’s akin to the term ‘bittersweet’, a longing for something or someone that will never be again. I too now feel it is the perfect description for my grief. According to Dictionary.com,
saudade
[ soh-dahd; Portuguese soh-dah-juh ]
noun
(in Portuguese folk culture) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent:the theme of saudade in literature and music.
I love this new word, it describes well the indescribable longing of grief.

I haven’t published much in the last few years, during my husband’s illness and his dying, and subsequently, after. But don’t be fooled. I’ve been writing like a fiend. I’ve written many poems, conversations, observations and soul searching thoughts through this journey. Turns out I’m 30K words into a book about grief and love, although written in drafts. One day, when my heart can take it, I will put that book together. For now, I would like to share one of the poems I wrote for my husband:
IF If I’d held you tighter and never let you go, When God took you, I’d be there with you now. If there wasn’t a Covid, and my pleas were heard, You might have still been here with me now. If I faced my fear of losing you and told you all I knew of your fate, Would it have scared you more? If I had a trillion more days, I couldn’t love or miss you more. If I wasn’t so broken, I could reminisce our happy times, Instead of just seeing your pained face and body, in my every thought. If I could stop this biting pain, I could breathe. If love could have saved you, you’d still be here with me now. ©DGKaye2022
I hope you have a wonderful celebration of life and that people share many beautiful stories to pay tribute to your husband, Debby.
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Thank you so much Pete. ❤
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Absolutely beautiful poetry and remembrance, Debby. Saudade is such a perfect description. It’s hard to fathom how the time flies. Sending hugs and love, my friend 💕🙂
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Thank you so much for reading Harmony. And stunning how fast time is flying. ❤ xx
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A lovely tribute to your husband, Debby. Maybe the English word for Sodahd would be yearn or pine? xx
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Thank you Stevie. Yes, those are twp close words – a longing that never subsides. ❤
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An incredible tribute, Debby – it is heart-wrenching to read and my heart goes out to you, my lovely friend. Toni x
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Thank you so much Toni for your big heart. ❤ x
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I have no soothing words…Just a hug ❤ ❤
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That’s all that counts. ❤ xo
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Sending love with heartfelt (((hugs))) across the miles, Debby. This is a beautiful tribute to your eternal love. xo
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Thank you so much Natalie for your beautiful heart. ❤ xx
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I have no words, Debby. I can only send light and love to you. Words are insufficient. I’m asking the Angels to surround you with their comforting wings. I hope you feel their hugs.
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Thank you for that Jan. I am feeling the angels today ❤ xx
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Beautiful and so moving, Debby. The more you love the greater the loss. ❤
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The absolute truth Trish ❤ ❤
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So heartfelt dear Debby. Sending love and kind thoughts.
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Thanks so much dear Marje ❤
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My pleasure. Hugs and love
❤
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❤
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My heart is with you, my friend. This was a heartfelt post. Keep showing up.❤
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Thank you Darlene ❤
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A profound tribute to love, hope, joy, loss and grieving. I especially appreciated the idea of a “gift” for that is what we are given when we find our soulmates. I have come back to read this post several times.
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Thanks so much Rebecca. I am touched. ❤
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A lovely tribute to your husband, Debby. You were both blessed with such love.
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Thanks so much for your kind words John ❤
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Big hugs to my Canadian friend, Debby. Saudade seems a perfect fit for your grief. This will take you far in your writings and offer more inspiration than you bargained for, I’m sure. I’m glad you took your annual trip and I’m sure you had many moments of nostalgia and signs from Puppy that he was there with you. Thinking about you. xoxo
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Thank you so much Terri. I am glad I took that trip to, and looking forward to sharing more about it here. ❤
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Beautiful remembrance, Debby. Thank you for sharing so deeply, so lovingly. My good friend just lost her husband unexpectedly. She is deep into Saudade and trying to piece together answers for “why?” I may share your journey with her, as I know she will feel comforted by your words. 💗
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Thank you so much Gwen for your kind words. And please feel free to share with another tribe sister. This thing called grief does crazy stuff to you, and often it’s only another who has worn the shoes can comprehend the depths. Hugs ❤
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OMG, Deb, I feel your pain so acutely. When I lost my partner many years ago, the first year was the hardest for me. Grief eased slowly and steadily after that, but random flashes of grief would stab at my heart and take my breath away. That still happens occasionally, and with less frequency as time goes on. The human capacity for attachment runs deep. But like a river flowing to the ocean, it breaks free once it reaches the vast expanse. So will we. It’s an inevitable process of incarnation ~ undeniable and resolute. All we can do is flow with the current and rest in the knowledge that when we return home to the stars, the pain will evaporate as we reunite with our loved ones. In the meantime, we take solace in the comfort of our friends. I know you’ll feel the love and hugs and compassion I’m sending you right now ❤️❤️❤️
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Dear T. Thank you for this. Yes, flowing with the current is a great analogy. You always have a wonderful way with compassionate words. ❤ ❤ xx
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A day or two before reading this the thought popped into my head that it must be around this time that George passed away. A wonderful remembrance, Deb. I’ll always recall the delightful dinner J and I had with you and him in PV. How fortuitous that you discovered that Portuguese word Saudade. In time the pain must yield to the happiness of what you shared.
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Hi John. Thanks for your lovely words and reminders. I love your last life – in time. ❤
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“It doesn’t get easier, I just learn to dance around it when it hits.”
I agree. We learn many dances throughout life, dancing with sadness and happiness. Personally, there have been dances with sadness that hits so hard, the death feels like it happened that day, and sometimes, a smile leaps upon my face, remembering something silly they said or an expression they gave.
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That’s exactly how it works Diane. Thank you for stopping by. 🙂
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A loving tribute Debby and one that I am sure will resonate with all who have suffered the loss of their soul mate. Many are not privileged to meet or enjoy years of happiness with someone that in tune with their heart and mind, and your celebration will be testament to that. I know George would be so proud of your strength and resilience and his love will sustain you always. ♥♥
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Thank you so much for sharing your words of inspiration Sal. I will try to focus on that in my dark moments. ❤ And thank you for all your love and support, always, and especially through my dark journey. ❤ ❤
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That’s family Debby… always ♥♥
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❤ ❤
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This post stabs my heart and shows that grieving has no end point. The date of the loss of a loved one is not a milestone that one can put a checkmark after. From your description here, I can tell that grief is ongoing, recursive, and at times fraught with overpowering waves. One day either Cliff of I will experience this.
I am happy that next week you will begin planning a celebration of life for your Puppy, the one Covid restrictions denied him; It’s an action that you can take to express your supreme bond and though it may not assuage your grief, it will give serve as a loving tribute to your One True Love.
Hugs to my Debby! ((( )))
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Thank you for your most felt hugs Marian. And you are so right on all counts. Like I said, we will grieve for as long as we love. ❤ xx
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Aww Sis, I read this three times and cried every time. This was the most beautiful tribute to G. I send you lots of love, my dear Sister. ❤
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Thank you my beautiful sister. ❤ ❤
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Hugs to you, Sis! ❤
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People talk about being back to normal a lot; after COVID, now my cancer treatment is finished, but of course many of us can never go back, it just has to be a new normal. Slipping back into things I haven’t done for two years like our weekly writers’ group has been good, but it also doesn’t feel right to carry on exactly the same.
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I’m happy to hear your treatment is finished. Sadly, the world is not the same and we must create the new normal. 🙂
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I feel your pain and loss through the words of this post and your heartbreaking poem. {{hugs}} aren’t enough but I hope it gives some solace. ❤
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Thanks for your beautiful heart Jacquie ❤
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Beautiful words that decribe a beautiful love. Sending you a ton of hugs xo
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Thank you Denise. Received. ❤
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My sis, heart goes out to you and your loss. I love the Portugese word, it is true to what we feel. ❤
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Thank you sweet Adele ❤ xx
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So beautifully sad Debby. Your depth of feeling shows in your depth of words. A year – may his memory always be a blessing.
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Thank you so much for popping by and leaving your beautiful words Susan ❤
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Wow, Debby! On many levels. I can’t believe it’s been a year already. Your pieces of writing about your Puppy and your love and grief are heart-wrenching, yet beautiful and so well expressed. That book on grief, loss, and love is in the making, I have no doubt. But completing and editing it, will keep ripping your heart apart. Maybe one day it feels right to finish and publish the manuscript. Thinking about you, my friend!
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Thank you my friend. And you are correct, that book will take quite some time as I can only read so much at a time without reshattering. ❤
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You honor your husband well, Debby! The love you have for him pours out through your words, and I see you. I see your love and your pain and your emptiness. Most importantly, I see your strength, a strength that was forged by the love you two shared. And though the biggest part of your heart is no longer on this earthly plane, you are most certainly not alone. Thank you for sharing your rawness and vulnerability. Sending you virtual hugs… 🙂
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Yvette, your words were so moving. Thank you for your kindness. I especially loved – “…your heart is no longer on this earthly plane.” A great summation. ❤
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Hugs from across the pond. Hard to believe its been a year already ❤
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Thank you my friend. You’re telling me? 🙂 xx
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😘
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❤ Jennie
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