Last night I came home from work, made dinner, showered and changed, and drove over to Boyfriend’s place, to present him with a warm and delicious meal that he didn’t have to cook himself after he finished late. Yes, I am aware that I have fallen into a nurturing role with him, but I prefer to think of it as give and take. He normally comes to my place but as he has to work today, six to six, and I don’t, I thought it would be nice for him to get more sleep.

(Sometimes I wonder why we aren’t actually living together. We spend pretty much all of our time together at my place as it is. Still, that final step seems to be not be quite right just yet)

While he was eating, he flipped on the tv and we tuned into SBS, which just happened to be showing a feature called “End of Life”, or “Life’s Endings”, I can’t quite remember which. It was interviews with dying people, something I’ve always been interested in, due to the fact that my mother was a hospice end of life care nurse and her stories were inspirational to me.

These were, too, and I watched the different people, all dying in different circumstances, with dispassionate interest; feeling regretful for them but not sad. Until there was an interview with a young mother, who talked about how many positives she had gained through her dying and how she wouldn’t change it, even if she could.

That’s when I started to cry, quite silently. It was just as if my eyes were overflowing and every blink sent water down my cheeks. I don’t think Boyfriend noticed as we were spooning on the bed and I was turned away from her.

You see, I remember. I remember writing about this when Ron was dying. That there was something so wonderful in the midst of all the grief. That our love was intensified and magnified by the oncoming loss. I remember that incredible bitter, bitter but oh-so-intensely-sweet time. I could almost taste the joy of it as a tangible thing on my tongue. It was glorious and amazing and wonderful and I am so thankful that at least we got to have that.

I wasn’t crying for the loss of him, I was crying for having once experienced a peak of sensory emotion that I think I will not feel again.

I let the water from my eyes wet my pillow for a bit and then I asked him to change the channel. He held me close as he did so.

I’ve changed the channel, too.

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About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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