Watching Love Fizzle

With regard to life with Jim:

It's like watching love die, or fizzle, since it's an incremental, agonizingly slow procession of loss. Jim loves me still, I know, but that love is more instinct than spirit, more habit than joy. Jim will love me for a long time but the animation behind that love shrinks daily to a small, sad, poor remnant of erstwhile glory. I'd like to say I am prepared for this but ... I am not. Nor ever will be. I am and will be distraught unto the end of my days.

Plus the damn cat is dying.