Gone

I need to add something and re-post this.  Yesterday was another first for me; I went to the movies, by myself, at the theater where Gwen and I always went.  I thought about calling a friend, but this was something I had to do by myself.  It was difficult at first.  I went into the theater and sat in one of the seats where she and I used to sit, the ones for people in wheelchairs and the like.  Just before the movie began, a young woman pushing her mother in a wheelchair came in.  I offered them my seat.  It felt really good doing that.  It used to irk us when non-handicapped people sat in those seats.  The movie I saw was Black Swan, I cried at the end.  I would have so enjoyed seeing that movie with Gwen.

My friend, Dave, sent me this poem.  What can I say?  It says it all:

Gone

by Ronald Wallace

The sorrow one feels after the loss
of a father, a daughter, a wife, is so
intense it takes up residence in
the soul's house, shares its pain
with a dailiness that can seem un-
bearable as you go through the mundane
acts that keep you human,
the little rituals that keep complete

numbness at bay. God knows
you wish you hadn't had to
take in this unwelcome boarder,
wish you could send him away
and gain back your composure.
And then, the sorrow goes.

"Gone" by Ronald Wallace, from For a Limited Time Only. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

Those of us who mourn the loss of a great love, do not easily take in that unwelcome boarder.  If we hadn't loved so well when you were here, then I wouldn't miss you so much now.  Sounds simple, doesn't it?  We know better, don't we, dear.