WHAT I'VE LOST

It snowed last night,  Brother Dick and I commented that it was a measly six inches, in the U. P., where we grew up, as he said, "we spit on that".  Brother Andy in Boston knows what snow is like.

Humor always helps.  My neighbor, Bob, called me this morning to tell me that I shouldn't clear the snow from his sidewalk, which I usually do, because the guy he pays to do his driveway has some liability issues with my doing that.  We didn't even try to figure that out.  Bob is in his 80s and always good for a laugh or two.  This morning he, in all seriousness, asked me whether he should be concerned about some strange behaviors his wife has been exhibiting lately.  He said that she gets a lot of letters from life insurance companies, and also that she took him to Men's Warehouse where she ordered him a black suit made of asbestos.  Even the dark humor helps.

Probably no amount of humor could have helped me deal with the feelings of loss I had when I came in from clearing snow out of my driveway and sidewalk.  It's not just the empty house, it's the memories of being greeted by a smile and a hug and then a bowl of soup of cup of tea.  These are the real, tangible things that contribute to the deep sense of loss I continue to have since my perfect partner died.  I think I cherished all of that when Gwen was with me, and I don't think I'm saying I wish I would have done it any differently;  it's just a much deeper, more real feeling now.  Another of those paradoxes; I know what I have lost only because I have lost it.  I've been working on this poem for quite a while now.  It's one of those that, following Fr. Dennis Dillon's advice, I finally had to abandon.  It's done as it's going to get:

WHAT I’VE LOST

  

The hardest part

Continues to be

One simple thing

She’s not with me.

We talked about everything

The leaky sink

The cold, rusty winter

The price of gas.

I didn’t think I’d miss

All the appointments

The endless chores

That damned wheelchair.

I miss all of that

In a way, it’s like I lost my job

But, I don’t miss my job

I miss my sweetheart.

John A. Bayerl, January 27, 2011

It really is that simple; I miss that girl I married back in 1963 and everything she brought to my life;  as she would say, "In sunshine and storm."