2.04am. Night owl these days! (Always my tendency.) If Andrew was alive here with me, he'd be trying to persuade me to get some sleep.
I liked the bed to myself when I knew he was in the world and would come home soon. Not so good now it's a solitary bed forevermore. But then, I think how awful it would be if he were permanently in the nursing home, missing me every night and me him, not able to be together, so near and yet so far. How awful it was when we thought he'd be permanently there, in horrible Nursing Home 1 — yet quite nice when he was just having a little holiday in lovely Nursing Home 2.
This is certainly better than his existing like that, and me watching him deteriorate gradually. He did it so much better for me, bless him, and for himself, by dying when he did. He is having such fun now, I know, and doing important work — but I can't keep up with that; still releasing the unshed tears of the difficult times we've recently been through. And I must live my life on the physical plane much longer, I believe. Which is what I want, and chose (as a soul coming in). I think it would have been great if he could have stayed with me, in health and clarity — but that was not his journey. And indeed, I do believe this part of mine is about being with myself, looking after myself, and so on.
When my psychic friend S predicted there'll be a male companion for me, it brought me to instant tears, only slightly assuaged when she made it clear, not a lover. I don't want another man.
I've outlived three husbands and a couple of lovers. I don't want that any more. And I sure as hell don't want to be nursing anyone again! Not ever.
‘Six Word Saturday’ emanates from Call Me Cate’s blog, Show My Face. To read her and other people’s ‘Six Word Saturday’ posts, click the icon.