I have always enjoyed being alone, and have relished the last few months. But as i sleep less (down to 9 hours now) i find a strange contradiction. I have time and space now but so many of the things i used to enjoy have lost their edge. Some days I can barely do anything and often crawl back into bed to stare at the wall. Then just as I am about to give up, the next day I will be happy and energetic for several hours.
And then crash again. Drifting, not sick, not well, floating in time, not even waiting … just nothing much.
There are so many things i should do, could do…clearing out papers, getting some new furniture, reading something besides mysteries, hiking, wash the bedding so it can dry in the sun, visiting friends, studying something…but i just…don’t.
I realize part of the fun of gardening, of a new recipe, of my work, of most daily life, was sharing it with my love. In the past, when we worked our large vegetable garden together, i always felt this was what my world was meant to be, a man and woman working together on the land. All was right with the world.
Now i am howlingly lonely but have little wish for company.
This must be the same with any bereavement. Nothing unusual.
The only evil twist with this dementia is that every once in awhile i go see don, longing for his company. His body is there and we share a kiss, holding hands, but there is no comprehension, no conversation, to slake this enduring loneliness.