i am startled to realise it is 3 months since he left, leaving that raw agonized hole in my heart i try not to venture near.
i surprize myself by feeling ok and even well a lot of the time. Or sometimes lonely, occasionally with a flash of joy, and many times a great love for others, but completely listless at other times. Getting out of bed is a struggle because waking up has the danger of bringing it all crashing down in my head again.
I summon up the strength to do my job, or enjoy a social event. Then, repeatedly, I crumble as soon as i am alone. Not every time, but the ache in my heart demands its sacrifice and i have no idea how to appease it.
But just 3 months to adjust to losing your centre for 4 decades, your main opponent, the one who loved and trusted you all through (well, mostly except when the dementia made him super paranoid), your biggest fan, safest harbour… it is not long.
I wish i could just crawl in a hole and ignore New Year. We always treasured it. About 8 years ago (or more) he forgot – we were at Flying Debris at Zocallos, and he had no clue what was going on at midnight. Or what midnight was. He only knew the music. I kissed him, for both of us, and did so all the rest of his years.
And now i cannot do even that.
You know…. I’m not really okay so please don’t ask. It will only make me politely lie, and it won’t be the therapeutic fibs i learned to sweetly tell my demented love. It will be ashes in my mouth.
But thank you for reading – I do feel your company on this long pain-filled journey, though the haze of this long grief.
One response to “3 months”
I will always appreciate reading your posts, Delores, and I loathe New Years for my own reasons, so we won’t go there!