Why It Hurts So Much

Now She Is Gone

Saturday was great, but Sunday was bad. I woke up feeling shattered, like some hand had moved my game piece back to start on the game board. I went for a five-mile walk since that usually helps, but it didn't this time. I talked to people on the phone, I went into the hot tub.

I went for another walk, this time with my dog. We walked at sunset around our neighborhood and didn't see a single other soul walking and only one car. Everyone, it seems, was locked inside watching the Seahawks play. When I got back, I had sort of a breakthrough (or what felt like a breakthrough at the time). I could concisely describe how I was feeling in these two sentences:

I lived with a woman who knew me as well as I know myself--in some ways better than I knew myself--and she chose to love me each day. Now she is gone.

I found it a little bit relieving to be able to form this inchoate feeling into words. Now she is gone.

Lots of people tell me that her love is still there, but that's not the same.