Thursday, April 14, 2022

Excuse the melancholy

As  I was digging through the drawer with important documents, like my passport, my social security card, my certificate as 1977 Sadler Dormitory Chess Champion, I came across this relic -- my photo ID from Chiat/Day, correction Chiat/Day/Mojo. 

Meaning it's circa 1993.

And it got me thinking. Not in a good way. Because nothing these days gets me thinking in a good way. Particularly since we might very well be on the brink of a much larger and more dangerous global war, the ravages of Covid continue, the criminal decay of our democracy, and of course, the passing of my wife.

I miss her dearly. Pretty sure I've made that abundantly clear. But I spent everyday with my best friend for more than half my life -- leaving me eviscerated in every imaginable way.

I also miss my daughters, who had been living here at the house so we could support each other. They have returned to their apartments and visit when their busy schedules allow.

And that's when it occurred to me that I also miss Me. 

Or, more accurately what used to be me. I miss the:

Confident Me

Healthy Me

Married Me

Family Man Me

Responsible Me

Caregiver Me

At Ease Me

Invincible Me

Looking Forward Me

Strong Me (not long ago I could bench press 245 lbs.)

Semi-successful Me

Creative Me

Even, the Loves-the-Solitude Me

I'm told by my therapist, my fellow high school classmates who are also widows and widowers (and generously given their time to comfort me) and by the countless grief books whose pages have been dampened by my tears, that in time, the grief will bring about personal growth. And change. 

And perhaps the old me will return, new and improved.

But never again will I experience the gratefulness that I enjoyed every night before drifting off to sleep. 

When I would lay on my back, head on my pillow, and stare out the skylight in our bedroom and take a blissful moment to know that I had my slightly snoring wife at my side, my two daughters safely ensconced in their rooms and sleeping soundly and my faithful dog cozied up to the nightstand.

I had all my girls under one roof, and couldn't want for anything more in the world. I felt like the luckiest man on the planet.

I miss that Me.


1 comment:

Leslie said...

Hi from your cuz's girlfriend. Finding someone who makes you grateful for every day is such a blessing. I am glad for the time you and Deb had together, and I am so sad for the pain you are feeling now, longing for her. Thank you for sharing the beautiful, bumbling, wonderful, imperfect-yet-perfect love you created together AND the raw ache you feel right now. You had a rare and wondrous treasure. Make no mistake - she knew just how lucky she was, too, to be loved by you.