Graph This

My life could be compared to a graph, a diagram showing the relation between variable quantities, typically of two variables, each measured along one of a pair of axes at right angles.

Sometimes I feel like a flat line, slogging through each day trying not to let too many emotions overwhelm me. I try not to think of the past, of Gregory when I am at home, of home when I am with Gregory.

Sometimes I feel like a saw toothed line, now up, now down, now happy, now sad.

Over time I am sure that the graph of my life is on an upward trend towards healing, towards coping, towards learning to live my life without the Gregory I first met some forty years ago.

When I am with him the line stands still, I am happy, the graph on hold. We have developed our small interactions that may or may not mean anything to an observer but which mean the world to us, a look here, a wink there.

I tell him I love him and he replies, "OK" or he shakes his head. Or I ask, "Do you love me?" and he nods. I get silly and in a high falsetto voice screech "I love you this much!" with my hands flying out to my sides or over my head. He giggles and that makes me laugh as well.

I take his Teddy Bear, named Peaceful, and put on a puppet show. The bear dances, and sings, and hugs Gregory while smothering him with kisses. Gregory laughs, or looks at Manny with his This Guy is Crazy look, and once Gregory grabbed the bear's nose in his mouth, biting and  "grrrrring" back at the bear as he shook his head from side to side bear style.

We hold hands with the hand holding in constant motion, perhaps to cut through the malaise  that often accompanies Gregory's inability to focus and to let him know, "I am here. I love you." I stroke his leg or squeeze his arm with the same message.

Or we sit in silence, just being there together; looking out the window, watching a movie on his television, spending time in the shaded park out back.

I give him treats which he easily receives as I pop them into his mouth: mini-cookies, chocolates, a drink of juice, a piece of fruit. Sometimes I put a pretzel rod into his mouth and he will reach up to hold it as he takes a bite and then continues to feed himself until the pretzel is gone.

I break into song, "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands," as I clap my hands. Second verse I clap his hands and sometimes he will continue clapping along as I sing.

When I am not with Gregory, the line can stand still as well. I loose myself in the here and now of a cup of coffee on the balcony over breakfast or on a walk in the neighborhood.

I sit at my computer and write as the ideas flow non-stop trying to keep up with my typing skills.

Grocery lists, folding towels, washing dishes, petting the cats come without the need for much through and they are good. A visit with friends or dinner out help time pass.

Then, when I least expect it, the graph line spirals out of control and I am mired in grief and sorrow and tears and loneliness. And I cannot imagine how I will continue to go on without the man who I love more than a graph could ever represent.

And I cannot see for the tears which splash my glasses and chill my face as they run down my cheeks. And the emotions are so strong that panic sets in at having to function while the emotions continue to escalate.

And graph lines have upward or downward trends, they DO NOT spiral. They do not spiral.

Then being spent, somehow a calm enters the lines of the graph and for a while the line is again flat. Emotions kept at bay. Sometimes up, sometimes down, sometimes happy, sometimes sad. And the next day will arrive, trending, trending.

I say I am aware of GRIEF sitting on my right shoulder 24/7/365 but also great JOY sitting on my left shoulder. Most of the time I am in balance.