My View

For 54 years I lived on the top of a high and loving mountain. It was a place of happiness, contentment and great accomplishment. My mountain was my life and my anchor. The soft spring rain echoed the feelings of our togetherness and caring. I could see the entire world from this beautiful place that wrapped me in gentle breezes and a constant parade of joyful understanding.

My mountain was carpeted with endless fields of brightly colored wild flowers and emerald green and cinnamon colored trees that offered us shade in our make-believe world. My 54 years spent high in the clouds gave me love and security. The gentle breezes helped to smooth the few bumps in the road of life as we traveled forward with our dreams and plans.

But then, on June 25, 2010, my wondrous mountain erupted and I slid down the steep, slippery slope into the dismal nothingness of the Valley of Loneliness; a place with a frightening landscape of a dark world of another dimension. I ask myself, “How will I navigate in this unfamiliar terrain?”

Life was not always a fairyland on our beautiful mountain; we weathered our storms, we walked in the rain, we practiced togetherness, and we cared about each other. We shared experiences that no one can steal from my heart and mind.

Here in the Valley of Loneliness no one sleeps — silence is my companion. Restlessness and sadness seem to be everywhere. As I look up from this Valley of Nothingness, my mountain looms higher and higher, and I wonder if I will ever have the strength and fortitude to be able to exit from this valley of sadness. I know that this slow trip back up to my mountain will take time; I must learn to be patient — a virtue that I have never been good at. The time has come for me to rethink, reminisce and re-evaluate and prepare for the eventual journey back up to my wonderful mountain.

People are kind and ask me, “How do you feel?” I reply “OK,” but I don’t mean it. I don’t know how to answer, as I have never been a widow before. I miss being able to share my opinions, my innermost thoughts, my observations and family matters with my mountain partner. He promised me the world and, yes, he kept his promise. We held hands as we cruised the mighty oceans and traveled all over the face of this earth. We traveled by sea and air, by bus, automobile and donkey cart, by elephant, camels and hot-air balloons.

Oh, the wonderful memories that I have!

During his lifetime, my mountain companion projected a macho personality. But I urge you to forget his gruff exterior. He was a man of love, integrity and charity.

Yes, I do have caring friends and loving family here in the Valley of Loneliness. Yet, at the end of each day, I find it difficult to concentrate on my many unread books; my piano is silent; and my writing projects are on hold as my mind races back over 54 years on my mountain of togetherness and happiness. Soon, I will have to develop a plan that will show me the path back to my mountain of memories.

From my valley, I look up and see my beloved mountain resting quietly against the cotton clouds and twinkling stars, and I know that I have to live here in my Valley of Loneliness for a little while longer — to gather my thoughts and make plans for my single future.

When I am ready, I will grab onto the rope of life and pull myself — albeit-slowly — out of this sad valley and again climb up to a better place.

He will show me the way.

Shirley Fein and her late husband, Arnold, longtime Longboat Key residents, authored many travel articles for the Longboat Observer on their trips around the world together.