When I was 53 – I unexpectedly fell madly in love – with reciprocity. I was well into my second wonderful career and my youngest child was a senior in college. My day to day parenting days had waned (pretty much!) and I was starting to think about a third career. But love struck – with absolute delight.
I was finally able to be my truest self yet – with the support of a loving compassionate empathetic wise partner. We spoke every day about how fortunate we each were. We shared – our days, our news, our nights, our challenges, our fears and worries, our kids, our work, our dog, food, travel, love, body fluids, friends, workouts, chores, family, politics, sports, theater, music, road trips, health tips, reading recommendations, poetry, advice, the future, vast amounts of gratitude – and yes some bumps – but the bumps were isolated and always linked to ghosts from our pasts – we both got this and worked things out when needed – on those very rare occasions we dug deep and worked hard. We laughed, we cried, we sang, we danced, we booked plane reservations, bought tickets, walked the dog, met after work, couldn’t wait to be together when separated…
And then when I was 57 George got the flu and pneumonia over night – the same night he was diagnosed with the flu. In the early morning I brought him to the ER and as I guess I still can’t quite believe – but I do – when I went home to walk our dog – George stopped breathing – end of the love story (except for the part about disconnecting George from artificial life support and hosting his life celebration – and the friends and family and wisdom and delight I would not have had without him). Gone are the days and nights, the sharing of news, the sharing of challenges, the sharing of household responsibilities, my travel buddy, my advisor, the guy next to me, holding my hand, hugging me at endless concerts, plays, movies, baseball games, hockey games. Gone was my advisor, my lover, my co-host for dinner parties and overnight guests, my road trip buddy, the person I brushed my teeth with, who brought me coffee, who danced with me in the kitchen, who cried with me in happiness and sadness…I could go on and on and on…
This is what it is like to lose a beloved partner. The loss is vast…
And as sudden loss is for most people, it was vast and stunning for me – left me literally stunned.
I have come out of the fog, out of the depths, out of the darkness – but I don’t always see a clear, bright way forward. I work hard, love my kids and my other kids, and love my friends and family – some of whom started out as George’s friends and family. But on a day to day – and night to night basis – I am alone – starkly alone. I do all the right things – try all the prescribed remedies – but at the end of the day I am alone – and the person who held me and comforted me and made things ok is gone. It’s indescribably hard. Still. Because of the contrast.