Life was so much simpler
we loved
we lived
we laughed
repeat the formula
day after blessed day.
Life is complicated now
we has become me
love is gone, not lost
life is—livable
laughter is rare
there doesn’t seem to be
a formula to repeat
only day after day.
John A. Bayerl, February 9, 2012
This morning, as I waited for my annual checkup with my cardiologist, I thought of asking him about how losing the love of my life affected my heart. No need to ask, really, I know what it did to my heart in more ways than one.
It was fun reminiscing with my friend Mary at lunch today. Others who knew Gwen remember things about her that I overlooked or didn't see. Mary often pushed Gwen's wheelchair to the car after a meeting. During that time Mary got the once over about her love life. All done in that low, conspiratorial voice of course. Or, the time we all went to Chili's and Gwen so enjoyed that margarita. Precious times. It's time like that when it's still hard to believe that she is gone. Denial isn't necessary always a bad thing.
Tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day. A poem came to me in the doctor's waiting room this morning. It will be ready to be released tomorrow. That's how it is with me and poems; they are never finished, I get to the point where I'm comfortable abandoning them.
Walking past the displays of valentine cards in the stores, seeing and hearing ads for flowers and candy and gifts all remind me of how it was with you, Dear, a special day to say out loud what we lived every day. Then later in the evening. . .
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♥
rated with love and empathy