…hard to discover I’m a complete wallflower
No, no, thank you for saying it’s not so, but it’s true.
I recently went to an open house at a friend’s winery. I didn’t feel like going, but Brad and Ruth Riordan of Robison Ranch Cellars have been so supportive of me that to not show up… well, that’s not something I want to be known for.
Going there would be bittersweet, I knew. On one hand, last year’s same event was the final thing David and I did as a couple. Kidless for a few hours, lively adult company, a stunning autumn day.
On the other hand…same scenario. Our last moment as a carefree couple with hours to burn and sated kisses to share on the drive home.
We had a delightful afternoon. My husband was a talker and he never met a stranger. The Robison Ranch Cellars 2008 open house was populated with interesting people and I hope they remember the gregarious man with easy laugh and big grin.
They might also recall the big whoop I let out when I won a door prize of a bottle of wine, which I took home and put away for this year’s 35th wedding anniversary.
We had such a good time.
I know I have to make an effort to not hibernate. That is what is most comfortable, what seems like instinct. Close the shades, ignore the phone, use as few words as possible.
So I took a shower, dried my hair, put on the makeup. Considered dressing up, then thought “nah.”
I miss the days when I got fancied-up (it’s all relative) in front of David, turned to him and said “Well, you’re looking at the prettiest thing you’re going to sleep with tonight.” He would smile and wolf whistle, just like he was supposed to.
I arrived at this year’s open house, monopolized the two women I knew and then … nothing.
I talked briefly to the very busy Brad and Ruth, of course. I drank their amazing rosé, I ate incredible food (I heard I have Jim Robison to thank for that and I certainly do) and … nothing.
Everywhere I looked, couples filled the floor. There was a wine blogger from Seattle but he was pretty busy looking important (meaning I must offer folks the same view when I’m covering a story, so let me apologize right now). People were having a great time, and no one was standing off to the side.
Except one woman, who seemed desperate for company…oh, wait. That was me.
It dawned on me that the whole time I’ve been married, I’ve hidden behind a job and my husband.
David — genuine, sweet and a storyteller — was the social one, the mouthpiece. By myself, I’m a complete wallflower. Now wilted.
Given every possible social prop, I still managed to slink away feeling invisible.
I HATE this new life.
But I like the Riordans and I like their work and I like that they care enough about me to invite me to join the celebration of another year of labor and passion.
They are part of the Sheila-sustaining universe that includes my God, my family, my friends and my writing. I have to believe I will find a way to inhabit that world again. Fully and with words.
Not wilted.
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It sucks that you lost him, but at least you’d apparently chosen well. If you are a wallflower, then it was good your man had never met a stranger.
I hurt for you. I mean, not in a big weird way, but in a “wow it sure sucks she has to go through all that” sort of way.
Since I know you mainly online, I kinda think it’s silly you’re shy. I mean, you write like a force of nature, so… well, yeah. Funny.
*big hugs*
When you lose a very important piece of you life, it is suppose to hurt. They say it will get better and I have to believe that is true, eventually. But everything takes as long as it takes, each to their own. You are loved, please remember.
Sheila, I totally know that feeling of being a loner…very uncomfortable. Next time, take a friend with you! Male or female, doesn’t matter…..
I can’t even begin to say that I know what you are going through dealing with David’s passing. I can say, however, that by nature I am a wallflower too. People are always surprised to hear that.
I love people. I know you do too. That’s what drives me to propel myself forward into life when I really want to crawl under a bed & read a book!
I want you to know, that even though your blog spot is a virtual world, it is read & enjoyed by real people. You’re not a wallflower to me.
You’re a living glimpse of sorrow, then a humorous comedian & then a
poignant story teller. You weave in and out of emotions like a prize fighter.
One never knows what life may hand them. Who knows…I may not be here tomorrow. So, from one wallflower to another…thank you!
As always, you touch the heart with your perceptive truth and humanity. I empathize. Like all of, “count your blessings; name them one by one….count your many blessings, see what God has done…” It’s not David there laughing and kissing and filling your life….but it is life sustaining and hope-giving. jan piercy
As usual, Sheila, I’m glad to receive your posts in my mailbox, even the sad ones. You always touch so perceptively on the most important parts of being human. Terri’s right… it’s supposed to hurt when you lose someone you love, and the amount of hurt is the measure of the amount of love. That’s something to be grateful for… having had that much love in your life. And though the love that came in the form of that one person is gone, the amount of love in the world is not decreased. I’m glad you still have a lot in your “Sheila-sustaining universe!” I hope it will surround you over the holidays and allow you some measure of joy in the season.
The feelings seem to much for words, but somehow you do it, thus your gift and profession.
I was amazed how completely I was dope slapped in the middle of all that activity when I saw you. I was flattered you came and proud that you did, what with our history.
I will for the rest of my days, see David, the easy self assured smile standing, talking by the open bay at the 2008 event. Thanks Sheila from both Ruth and I.