It is a precious gift to be loved.  Loved with no restrictions.  Loved completely and faithfully.  That is how Ken loved me.  I will never again be loved like that.  He is gone.  So I will now be a family of one.  I have no interest of being a family of two again.

The thing I miss the most is "Not talking."  Being in the same room and looking up to see that he is there.  Me doing one thing, him doing another. It is a peaceful quietness of togetherness without any need to say anything.  Just knowing he is there.  Knowing you are not alone.  Confident in the love of another person.

Before Ken died, my friend Carolyn (who knew Ken was dying) told me that there was no way to prepare yourself for being alone after 57 years.  "People will say that they know how you must feel," she said, "...but they don't.  You have to have had a wonderful marriage for many, many years--and then have it stop and turn into something strange that seems like a void.  Like you no longer exist."

She lost Wayne over thirteen years ago.  "People will say, he's gone.  You need to move on.  Someday they will lose their mate and know that it is almost impossible.  You never get over it.  You can't erase a lifetime.  Yes, you have to make new friends.  But in most cases, your couples friends will move on--since you are no longer a couple."  She was right.  It's true that some people marry again.  Maybe I would if God plopped someone down on my doorstep and said, "This one needs you."

It takes a lot of getting used to.  And sometimes, I don't think I ever will.  I look up at his empty recliner and wonder who I am.  I sometimes feel like half of nothing.  I'm not whining.  Most of my days are good.  But every now and then, when I lift my eyes to speak to him and he's not there, I am confused.  It's okay.  What I had to say to him was nothing anyway.

I like my life.  I fill it up with things I like to do.  I have always been able to be happy when I am by myself.  I am not necessarily lonely being alone.  But before, I always knew I was not alone.  I knew Ken was there and that I was special to him.   And that made me special.  It gave me freedom to be myself.  I'm just not sure who that is anymore.  People don't want you to talk about things like this.  It makes them uncomfortable.  Feel free to delete this blog.