A Love Affair

I have written about loneliness often in the past. If I thought that I was lonely as Gregory slowly was diminished by Dementia/ Alzheimer's; if I missed having a partner with whom to make decisions, to share responsibilities, to support me through our journey; it is nothing compared to the loneliness I feel now that he is dead. I now face the rest of my life without being able to talk to him, to hold him, to kiss him, to doze off in his arms.

Every time I think I have a hold on this beast called grief, it bites me, it grabs me in its jaws and thrashes me around until I am beat up, broken, and bloody. The more I grieve the more obvious the obvious becomes. My grief has nothing to do with Gregory it has to do with me. My pain, my sorrow, my fears, my loneliness.

I am not so much grieving his death as I am grieving the future of my life. I don't mean to bring you down with me. I will feel better in an hour, later today, or tomorrow. But right now the tears flow freely, and I am sad. I am not sorry that Gregory has died, I am sorry that I continue to have to live without him.

This is not a suicide thought, taking my own life is not what I mean here. More painful than that is having to wake up each morning to face the day and find meaning, purpose, and love in my life when the person who meant the most to me can no longer be part of that except in my thoughts and in my memories.

I read recently somewhere, "Can one have a love affair, a love relationship with someone else when it does not involve the human body?" I am not sure but I sure have been having trouble finding peace in myself without Gregory's presence even though he is at peace.