February 15, 2016
William and I lived together for 18 years, 8 of them married. They were not the easiest of years, in fact most of them were filled with drama and trauma. There were many, MANY, times over the years that I was going to leave. But for a variety of very good reasons I never did. Nor did he and I suspect he might have had his own list of reasons to get out of Dodge. The pressure really never let up until, unfortunately, after Youngest Son's death. Not even immediately then, because first came my Craziness, then my New Normal.
But gradually there was a new peace between us. Nothing to fight about. No one to worry over. We began to have quiet dinners for two. We talked about OTHER things. It's like we became the people we hadn't been for years. A couple. Sadly, almost at the same time, William's health began to decline. We downsized, sold our home, bought a new one, smaller, in a nice little town on the Fox River. Plans to travel in our retirement were shelved, much to his chagrin and extreme disappointment. But for a time, before last summer when his illness started accelerating towards the end, we found a sort of contentment.
I'm writing these thoughts down now because they have been bouncing around in my brain today. Specifically, all the times I almost left. Now that I am learning to cope with aloneness, if not yet loneliness, I can't think of anything so agregious that I would leave. Even the terrible, difficult, emotionally draining and fatiguing last months I would take back rather than the thoughts and the worries of each day with no one to share them with.
And the silence.