I feel a little stuck, as stuck as a golden goddess of goodness gets. I keep telling myself, all is part of the journey. I pushed myself this past month, less time for reflection, my body and spirit feel vulnerable. I long for familiarity, for connection, for a hello-hello-hello returned. My friend Lynn called. Left a message to have a great trip. I exist to somebody else. I am thought of, she is thoughtful.
Bob feels so far away. Almost as if, when was he here? Can’t remember when I last cried widow tears.
I loved Bob, not as good as I could of but, the best he felt in his life. The rest I have to say is redundant. He’s gone, move on. He was loud, he was funny, he was no good with money.
Do I miss him? My pen pauses. I miss his laugh, I miss his adoration of me. I did not appreciate him fully while he was alive. I was uncomfortable with his bigness, his gusto, his ability to see and say what I wouldn’t.
I wish I could have a drink with him at the bar where we had our first date. Without getting mad, I would let him order whatever expensive drink he would want (probably an over priced port). I’d look him in the eye and say, “Thanks. Thanks for the ride, the love, the beauty. I’m sorry for the struggles, I get it now and I thank you.” Then, I would kiss him. I can’t remember the last time I really kissed him. I would cup his chin with my hands and focus on the singular sensations from that swirl. I pecked him before he went into surgery, but a real kiss? I have no idea when the kisses became mundane. I’d kiss him and he’d feel so adored.