Adjusting, the both of us

I’ve started half-a-dozen entries that fizzled out. Such a tumultuous time — I’m up one minute, then down the next, and I’ve never much cared for rollercoasters. 

After two weeks, Jim seems settled in his new home at Palo Alto Commons in their dementia care wing. He has not been anxious or distressed which I had feared would be the case.  He seems to be a staff favorite, so sweet is he. He no longer remembers my name but calls me “my lady.” I visit every other day for an hour or so. Not possible to have actual conversations but we talk about trees, flowers, the sky, and how good it is to hold hands. 

My transition to living single is proceeding apace. I play music often to keep the silence at bay. But, sometimes, silence whispers important riffs. The patio garden is my refuge. I have taken up iced strawberry tea and drink quarts daily. OK, pinot noir, too, from time to time (not quarts, usually). Magnus most often is wrapped around my feet (safety alert) or dozing on my lap or spread across my chest helping me read in bed.  We’ve had generations of cranky and/or disinterested cats ... thus, incredibly fortunate to have this ever loving furry creature for company at this lonely time. I’ll get used to living alone but I miss Jim. But, then, I’ve already been missing him for the last six years ...