Well, its been over a week since J went back to Wallasey and I have been here with my son. It's been ok but very strange to be without my husband. I feel strangely as though I were widowed again, most odd. Just the thought of getting up in the morning and jumping into a bath is foreign without someone to do this most basic of functions for and that is exactly how it was when I was first alone.
I don;t really understand why but the separation brings back all the memories of the anguish and terror of loss - especially such sudden loss. I think if I were to write about widowhood, the things I would mention most are the fear and the aching lonliness. The first was most unexpected, and still strikes at me in strange ways. I have difficulty in getting out into unfamiliar places on my own, I have to force myself into meeting new people, and I struggle when I spend too long without some company - although I don;t need someone to be actually in the house as it were. Very strange.
I do like my own company more than I used to, but then I suppose I have always liked to read, to sew, to practice, to listen to music so now that I am older being alone is not such an issue. But being separated from the person I love most is hard, even though I know I will see him at the end of the week.
I wish I could achieve more, but seeing D and A today, and realising how much pleasure they take in just being together, having a life that doesn't depend on notions of success and reward but in the knowledge that their love for each other and their families is their touchstone, has shown me that I need not strive all the time. It is enough to be sometimes, and to wait for life to show you the way. I think, perhaps, I have been forcing the pace. I certainly did when I first moved in with J, anxious not to impose myself on him in my lonliness, and aware that my lack of friends in a strange city was putting him under a certain degree of pressure. I went everywhere, joined things, made friends almost too quickly. Now, I have put the brakes on. I recognise that I need time to think, to see, to be. I can't run around all the time from person to person. Sometimes, when I feel anti-social, then its ok to be antisocial. I need the space to breathe mentally.
Living with my son like this, just the two of us, is to have travelled through a time warp. He may be 25 at the end of this year, and have travelled and lived abroad, but as soon as he comes home he is back to his mummy and just lives his 14 year old life again. Do sons ever grow up? I watch and wait. He is kind, he has charm and is intelligent as his father was, and I hope that soon - very soon - someone falls in love with this young man who I love dearly, and that he falls in love as well. I think that will make him happiest, however strenuously he denies it.
I think that aquiring this little flat in Leeds has been a wise move. It gives us life at the coast and north Wales, but a life of the soul here in Yorkshire amongst dear and very loved friends. As I approach my 58th birthday I relish the prospect of next year, with J, and with a very different way of life to come.