i love Rockport, Massachusetts. i always have, even before i lived there. after i married my Marine, we moved out there to get away from everything and everyone. my children were grown and out on their own so we could live anywhere we wanted. so we drove to the end of Route 128 and stopped when we saw the ocean.

it's a quaint town where tourism supplements fishing and lobster men. buildings are old there, it's architecture isn't done anymore. history is important there. the ocean either caresses the rocks and few beaches or slams into it with a highly commendable fury. it has one of the most photographed and painted buildings, Motif # 1 and the art community is very much alive and thriving.

my husband and i had plans, dreams really, to live there forever, or however long forever allowed. but certainly longer than the forever we got. i was going to open a little shop on Bearskin Neck. i'd sell my driftwood sculptures, my paintings, my stained glass, and my sewing. we were going to live above the shop and grow older together. we were going to relish the short summers and sit in front of our fire and look out the windows during the long winters.

but suddenly one night in the dead of winter, February 9, our dreams were destroyed. my husband died suddenly and i was left to walk out of the hospital emergency room at 3 AM to find my way back to an empty place. the night was so cold, 4 below. stars were so clear in the frigid air.  not everyone gets a candlelight vigil when they die.  some just get a sky full of stars.  but for some, quiet people like us, that view of the heavens is ethereally beautiful.  i could see the full moon shining on the water as i let myself inside. i pulled up a chair and sat looking out at the ocean.   i couldn't get back into that bed alone.  the silver moonlight shone down on the ocean leaving a fractured trail of light on it's cold changing tide.  i felt such conflicting emotions. i was scared out of my mind. i was numb. my chest hurt, each beat of my heart was painful. the count had started. four hours since he died. six hours now. time without him had started.

Rockport is such a beautiful place. i remember gazing numbly at every building, all the familiar places where my husband and i had walked as my son and daughter drove me through town to the Post Office to drop off my box key, our box key. there was the Red Skiff restaurant that has wonderful fish and chips. there was the public library that has a wealth of history in the Rockport Room in the basement. i got into the Post Office and i had to tell them my husband had died. it was the first time i had said it out loud, even to myself. i signed the cards to forward my mail to North Carolina. i would be moving there to be close to my daughter. my children didn't want me to be alone. i didn't want to be alone either. but leaving Rockport was so hard.

i still see it though. there is a link to the Sandy Bay Yacht Club that is off the T-Wharf in the center of town, a wharf that is much shorter than and runs parallel to Bearskin Neck. i have their webcam bookmarked so i can check in on the inner harbor and the Neck. i hit it every day. right now there are more sailboats tied up from the summer people. Fourth of July will be a day i'll hit multiple times on the webcam. i drift to it like it's an addiction because i was so happy there. his hand was in mine or he backed me while i shot photographs. he'd whisper in my ear. point things out or tease me. he never tired of walking with me, or waiting on me.

but going back there, i don't know what it would do to me. all the memories. mirages of him walking everywhere. and yet, he will not be there. i don't know how i could ever go see it again. the pain would be shattering.

maybe someday. maybe never. but i have the link, shared below. and i look. like an outsider now. an interloper. Rockport, Massachusetts. there will always be a bittersweet spot in my heart for it. i loved it so because he explored it's beauty with me.

i wrote this poem for him.  it's elementary in it's form but then when i get overwhelmed with my memories of where i had been with him and what i have lost now that he's died, i feel like a small child crying, so lonely and confused as to why it he had to go.

do you ever think of me?
do you wish you knew,
if i was tired or happy or
if i was sad or blue?

do you wonder where i am?
do you wonder who i see?
if you knew how sad i am right now
could you send a sign to me?

do you ever ask "what if?"
do you ever want to cry?
if time is supposed to heal all wounds
does that mean my love will die?

do you ever think of me?
do you say my name?
since you've died and are gone from me,
i will "never be the same."

i've lost everything i could ever want.  i've lost my husband.  and i will never be the same.