another grievous loss

 Grief morphs and so do I. In some ways I am closer to you, further in other ways. But cognizant always of the void of you. Without your civilizing presence I am more judgmental and annoying yet more kitty loving (kitties for the Win!). Our Pat died, devastating. Remember our Scotland/NorwayIceland cruise in 2018? As we were at dinner one night, I was chatting away, then you nudged me and pointed at Pat who was crying silently over her dinner plate. Wish we could have helped her more.

What I Would Do Differently

 What I would do differently

Your world would become mine,

Truth only is perception, you would be my truth,

Reserving just enough of mine to get us by

in a place dispassionate

I would be your passion

You would be mine

Would hold you dear and close

And be your partisan always

Would embrace your truth

Your body, your being, You.

Is it too late?

 I still have no idea how I’m going to live long term without you. Next week I’m driving up to Point Reyes/Tomales Bay. Renting a cottage on the bay in Marshall. Finally will strew your ashes in the bay where we shared so much love. It’s the right thing to do for us. 

 It’s been really hard lately. Don’t know why. I am both depressed and labile. truth is I never imagined living without you and I don’t much want to. I am stuck here without you, in a fairly barren place with almost no good friends, our kind of friends, nearby. I never thought what this would be like. It’s fairly grim. But I am housed, fed, and still travel some. Health is compromised but I’m working on being better. Our last ten years were so awful, we lost sight of one another and failed love from time to time. 

No Words

 I’ve always been comfortable with words — reading them, using them, writing them, speaking them. Lord knows it’s rare when I have nothing to say.

I guess I thought, for a while, I would find the woulds to express the profound wound of Jim’s death and horrendous loss of his partnership. That hasn’t happened. Now I think it may never happen.

Last year I was in Panama for Jim’s first death anniversary. I marked it but was distracted. This year I am wholly present and the devastation has only begun. Still looking for the words.

 he was gallant

over my innumeracy

and protective when I gave him a chance

he loved me to bits

even the bad bits

I loved him with

a ferocity that was less than kind

uniquely mine

 This grief, Jim, our grief, grows stronger not lesser. Why is that? This is a solitary grief, is that why it never seems less? Would if it be different if There were public markings. We have not believed in that but maybe it was about comfort, not display.