Many days I live on the edge, and not in the adventurous sense. I feel emotionally raw and fragile. Existence has narrowed now that I’m single. What I’ve lost with the death of Susan are a breath and depth of life expressed in: color, curtains, table settings, decorations, laughter, conversation, touch, prayer, dancing, cozy silence and so many other things she brought to—and brought out in—our relationship. Some of these are gone, all are altered.
I am blessed with family and friends who love me and work hard to fill in the blanks. They call, they write, they visit, they encourage, they empathize, they listen.
Life goes on: I try to be thankful for new experiences and opportunities; I look for others to encourage as a way to counter self-pity; I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other … and I hold on by my toenails.