Namaste

I am writing today, not because I have an active readership in mind, more for those that might find my blog in the future. The time has come to make a shift in my focus.

First things first. I am not a new person, and I have not completely worked through my grief. And, my life is not suddenly a bed of roses.

Yes, I have been blessed with many new things in the past 2+ years. I live in a new city, and occupy a new home. I have a new relationship, and each of my children have continued to grow. I am about to become a grandfather, and look forward to the joy that only new life can bring. I have many tried, tested and true old friends and family. And most importantly, I have many new friends whose journeys bear a marked similarity to where I have been, where I am, and where I am going.

For those unfamiliar with my story, my journey here on this blog came out of a desperate need to share my thoughts and feelings as I attempted to deal with the death of my husband. I felt so alone, even with a household of children and a local circle of friends. It was those late night hours when I found myself alone that I needed to reach out and express myself. I was seeking understanding from those that had been there, and from those standing in the same place. What I found was a lifesaving community of people, also reaching out, who gathered formally and informally in order to help each other endure.

It is now time for me to move in a different direction. When I began writing in this forum I did so without a timeline in mind. I didn't anticipate that there would be a end, yet I find myself needed just that. I feel the need to end the documentation of this part of my journey, and to perhaps start anew in a different place. I know that I will always be writing about my experiences, yet for now, I need to be writing about other aspects of my life.

I have decided to maintain this blog for those that may come looking for someone like me in the future. When I started on this journey I was looking for other gay widowed, yet was not finding my reflection online. Since the beginning, I have found that the community I sought materialized in many surprising ways. I have in fact found other LGBT widowed people, and many of them have reached out to me. What I didn't expect is the larger community of widowed people to also embrace me. It has been an overwhelming experience of love and support, and has changed the way I view the world around me.

It's my hope that those who arrive here in the future, also looking for a similar experience, will know that they too are not alone. I will make attempts to update possible links to other services and communities as they develop. I may even respond to future comments, so please feel free to leave them, as I will continue to be notified of future comments left on the blog.

Please know that I continue to grow as an individual. I continue to work through the loss that I have experienced, the ongoing challenges that I face, and the prospects of increased joy in the future.

Much love to all of you, and thank you for being part of my journey.

Namaste

Dan, in real time.

A Son's Perspective

I was sitting in the living room, warmed by the fire, with my boyfriend Abel to my left, and my son Remy to my right. I was trying to think of what to write about, then saw a perfect opportunity to find out what my son thought about his dad, a widower, newly dating again.

My husband, for those who do not know, died a little over two years ago. He and I had only been a couple for 18 months when he was diagnosed with brain cancer. My kids learned to love and accept him, then soon learned that they would also have to say goodbye to him. It was nothing I ever expected to go through with a new relationship, and nothing I ever expected my kids to experience while they were still young. But here we are, two years later, many bereavement groups later. Many changes, and many nights of grieving through tears, laughter, and stories.

A couple of months ago I met someone. We began to date, well, we began to have a relationship from the beginning. It didn't feel so much like dating, as we were relating to each other daily, talking, sharing, and growing close, quickly. I introduced him to my kids, well, teenagers, and we went from there.

Here is a brief discussion that occured while I sat here. It began with a simple question to my 13 year old son.

What's it been like having your dad dating someone new?

Remy: Well, at first I felt like Abel was taking away my dad's love for Mike. And I thought, well, like you guys have already done stuff together, and I feel very different now. At first it felt like it was going too fast, it was coming on too strong, because I thought you didn't give up Mike yet, and I thought that he was taking away that love of Mike. But then later on I realized that he was a person you really love, but I thought you still loved Mike, and Abel was really new, and I didn't know Abel like a father. It felt like with Abel you were ready to move on, and I wasn't ready for it. Now I understand that you are ready, and that you want love again.

Abel: I would never try to replace what Mike had with you guys.

Remy: I told my dad that this is confusing for me, and now I feel like maybe you aren't the same father as Mike, but I know that you care about my dad, and you care about all of us. I hope that my dad does care about you.

Abel: I do love your dad, and you and Arianne. You all have a special place in my heart Remy.

Remy: (turns to me to say) I feel like you guys are going to be together for a long time. I feel like if you are dating Abel, and if it's been going on for a long time, it's already like he's a dad to me. I know Abel would do anything for us as a family. I know Mike would be happy for you dad. I know that he would be happy for Abel to have a great guy like you. I think Mike would be very happy, and he'd be happy mostly that you moved on, and found love again.

I then asked Remy if there is anything else that he worries about.


Remy: I might worry that me calling Abel dad, that Mike might not like that, but that's just how I think. I'm still worried about what if Abel is not going to stay, then I think about negative stuff, like what stuff could happen.

Remy said he worries about possibly losing Abel, then was unable to continue to talk. I spoke to Remy about how all parents who begin dating again worry about their kids getting attached to someone when dating, then having to let go if the relationship doesn't work out. I told Remy that with a widowed parent that becomes an even deeper concern. I reminded him of how he and the other kids learned to love Mike, and how they came to accept him as their second dad, only then to lose him.

Remy just told me it was okay to say that at this point he cried.

Do I worry about this? Yes. Does Abel worry about this? Yes. I suppose these are the conversations we should be having. These are the things that go through the mind of our children. Do they want us to be happy again? Yes, but it is so much more complicated, isn't it? There are so many feelings that our new relationships bring up for them. There are so many insecurities that get tapped into. I have always known this, but I think I need to remind myself of this more often.

Happiness is not an easy matter. But it is something worth striving for.

Love to Love You Baby!

I had a wonderful love.

I had the opportunity to love Michael for the rest of his life.

It didn't really matter how long we loved.

It mattered more that we loved.

I learned much about myself by loving Michael.

I learned much about love by being loved by Michael.

I am now able to trust love.

I am now able to love again.

Michael, I love to love you baby.

Tears

You know, I have avoided writing lately. It's not that I've been busy, as there have been many quiet evenings. It's also not like I'm just sitting around doing nothing, as I hosted a fun gathering with friends last weekend, and have been quite busy transplanting two magnolia, and one palm, tree from the front yard to the back. I guess you could say my life has been quite normal.

Then why am I so depressed?

I can't shake it. My mood has been terribly low. Actually, extremely low today. I feel like either I'm very sad, or I'm not feeling anything at all. It wouldn't be so bad if I only had myself to worry about, but that is so not the case. I have a 13 year old that needs me, and needs me to be something beyond depressed.

I felt so bad tonight. I picked up my son from camp, and took him shopping for new shoes. Afterward we stopped for dinner, and that's when I realized that I had nothing to say, and I wasn't really focused on what he might be trying to share with me.

Is it time to get back on antidepressants? Last week the pharmacy mistakenly filled an old prescription for an antidepressant I was on in the past. It's sitting there on the table, ready to return when I get a chance. Now I'm wondering if it was just meant to be. Are there really mistakes in life? I don't know what to think.

I do know that I have really avoided my emotions for awhile. It's not that I have been in denial. I know what I'm feeling at any given moment. It's just that I have avoided tears. Yes, there has been no tears for quite some time. I needed a break from them. I was past the point of daily, even weekly tears. I was...shit

Tears.

Dating Again

Well, last week I wrote about visualizing change. In fact, "Visualizing Change" was the title of concurrent posts both here and on my personal blog. I thought it appropriate to discuss the issue in both forums, as I wanted to feel like I carefully explored what I was wanting and what I was feeling.

The subtitle to my personal blog is "one gay man's journey through love, life and grief," so I feel like it is appropriate to be sharing each step of this change. I have shared my grief, so now it's time to share other developments in my life, including my quest for possible new love. I tend to be a man of action. If I say I'm going to do it, then I must be ready to follow through. Well, for those who visited my blog recently, you might have seen that I in fact took that first step.

First Date.

It was the first date in 5 years. I don't think the time described is what is actually most significant, as even if it had been less time, or more time, it would still have been a monumental step for any of us. It's about feeling ready to open the door to possibility. It's about presenting yourself to another person, from where you are at this point, and with all the expected baggage.

For me, it meant showing up. Not just in person, but emotionally. I had to be available to let someone in, if only for a short time, and if only for a guarded look. What I found was that I was indeed ready. Now, the first step I took was to not over think it. I made the choice to put myself out there, and someone voiced interest. That was enough to let me know that the timing was right. And, a first date is just that, a first. There was no need to worry too much about expectations, and there are usually very little of them the first time out, at least for me that is. I approached this as an opportunity to sit across the table from another adult, enjoy a nice dinner that I didn't have to cook, and to share in some mutually satisfying conversation.

My fist date didn't mean I was committing to anything other than having this introduction. It didn't mean that I was going to marry this person. It didn't mean that I needed to fit in with his family and friends. And, it didn't mean that I had to be sexualy compatable with this person. All of these thoughts and concerns are what will get played out if I continue to see this, or any other, new person. So, putting those worries aside, I realized that the first date was not very scary at all.

I won't get into the personal details of the person I met with, or too much about the conversation, as I don't want to ever make him, or others, feel that anything that happens around me will end up on some blog. What I can say was that our dinner conversation was primarily a very intense conversation about God. Yes, God. Now that I reflect back on it, I'm sure that is the last topic that many Americans would expect two gay men to be discussing out on a first date. By the end of our dinner, he asked what I thought. I said that I enjoyed our conversation, and that the subject was one that I both enjoy, and feel comfortable, talking about. Yet, I also said that after this somewhat intellectual conversation, that I didn't really have a good sense of who he was, and that perhaps he didn't have a good idea of who I was.

We chose to go somewhere else, and just sit and talk. And that's exactly what we did, for an additional two hours. I now feel like he can make a good assessment about my potential for a platonic or romantic relationship. I can now do the same. Yet, I am also quite aware that I have no need to make any quick decisions, as I'm in no hurry to define, or limit, the types of relationships I am developing for myself.

Will I see him again. Yes, if that is what we both want.
Will I see others as well. Yes, as that is what I want.

The change I was visualizing has room for many people. The change that I am visualizing has room for many types of relationships.

Streets of San Francisco

I just returned from a brief trip back to San Francisco. It was a business trip, not one that I had chosen on my own. The week before starting my new job, I was told that I needed to attend a training, and was a bit thrown off when told where it would take place. I decided that the universe was telling me that it was time to walk some of those familiar streets once again.

People have been asking me a lot lately if I miss San Francisco. After all, I did live there for about 25 years. I give the same answer every time.

No.

I think I surprise people by my response. I then try to fill in some of the missing blanks for those that ask. "When I move on, I move on." It's not really a cop out, it's really the truth. I don't miss it, and I have moved on. I'm also keenly aware that by not missing it, I don't fall into the pitfall of doing any reminiscing. No reminiscing means not having to remember more than I want to. It's not that I don't have fond memories, as I have a lot of them. It's just that they still feel like harsh reminders of what was, and what no longer is.

I approached the return with careful planning. I arranged to visit with a couple of very close friends, and otherwise did not tell a soul that I would be in town. This allowed me to focus my energy on the training courses that I was sent for, and to enjoy the company of my new coworkers who were there with me. I became a bit of a den mother, taking them to a couple of nice spots for dinner and drinks. It was a good time for bonding, and a good distraction from what could have been an emotionally loaded occasion.

There was a bit of an awkward moment when out with a few of the gang, and was asked what the tattoos on my arm symbolized. They were surprise to see my arm covered in ink, as I always cover up for work. I began my explanation about the loss I experienced, and was standing in a bar just down the street from where Michael and I met as I spoke. It was clear from their faces that my new friends were completely blown away by what I was sharing. It was actually a cathartic moment, sharing this with them over a drink, then being able to move forward with some fun and laughter for the rest of the night.

What was also nice were the surprise encounters everywhere I went. I must admit, it was rather sweet to be walking down the street, cross a bar room, or enter a building, and be met by familiar smiling faces. With each chance encounter was a look of joy at the opportunity to catch up with me.

I returned home late last night, and felt like it was a good trip over all. Today, though, has been a different matter. Today I have been feeling so down, and deeply depressed. It's clearly one of those "day after" situations. These occurred often during my first year of grieving. I would have all this anticipated worry about days that felt loaded, only to get through them relatively well. Then, the day after would arrive, and all the emotions that had been held back would on in full force. It's text book really.

Anyway, my point is that I was able to recognize it this evening. Rather than worry too much about what I am experiencing, I am able to put it into perspective. I have learned that the pain, or sorrow, cannot be passed off completely when re-experiencing the past. But, no matter how tough that day after can be, the days that follow do get better, and perspective is regained.

Can I be honest with you?

I feel like it's a "come clean" with my reality time once again.

I have been terribly unhappy. Okay, no big surprise.

I'm so burdened by my grief these days. I feel like I am carrying an enormous piece of baggage, and I'm getting so tired of the excess weight. I can feel the weight bearing on my heart, and on my shoulders. It makes any type of movement all the more strenous. And, for the most part, I only carry it around while at work. The rest of my time I come home, sit it beside me, and choose to take the easy way out, meaning go nowhere with it.

I am alone.

Yes, I do have my kids, yet only one at home at present. He is twelve, and at this point that means forced meals together, and some side by side computer time. He is quite content to be out with his friends, and that is the way it should be. As for me, I just want him to be busy enough to not notice how depressed, and stagnant his father is.

I feel like a cloister.

I live in a world of silence these days. There is little person to person interaction in my life. The whole world has moved on, yet I am still here, mourning, and somewhat giving up. I go to work each day, and do my job. I have a little interaction here and there, but most of my opportunity to talk with another person happens on the phone, or in person, with clients. I tend to work long days. Not because I have a lot of work to do, quite the contrary, I have too much time on my hands at the office. I'm finding that it is not as challenging as I would like it to be. But it, like me, is a work in progress. I don't rush to leave, as there is no real pay off in returning home.

The days go by painstakingly slow. Lunch time comes, and though I may be hungry, I'm in no rush to do anything about it. I quietly walk out the building, and get into my car. Most of the time this too is in silence. I sit in my car, then realize I have no where to go, and no one to go there with. I think that because my position is that of a floater, it makes it hard to connect with other folks at work, and more difficult to maintain friendships. Just when I think I'm getting to know people, or them me, well, it's time to move on once again.

You know, people may hear this of me, and think that I should just stop dwelling on the past. Most have no idea that my life feels so empty. I don't know what others think I am filling my time with, but all I can come up with is empty space.

That's it. My life feels so empty.

This is not a cry for help. Lord knows I did enough of that in my car today. It's just me, trying to be real with my readers. 18 months out, and I'm a real fucking mess. I've thought about getting back into therapy, which I most likely will do, so nobody needs to leave me a list of shoulds. The reality here is this. Life is shit. You give your heart to someone, and that someone is taken away.

Oops. I think he took my heart with him. Maybe I should have asked for it back before he left.

How do I explain this. I was very happy. Even after the devesating news that he would die of a brain tumor. I still had him, so I managed to find happiness while I battled that damn tumor. Now I have nothing. About now most are scratching their heads. Nothing? Well, yes. Nothing. Nothing has replaced the pain and emptiness that placed upon me 18 months ago. And, remember people, 18 months is not that long ago. So many people expect me to be different at this point. What point? My husband died. Wouldn't you be different if your spouse died? Of course you would be, and not for the better.

Last week my mother gave me a gem. I don't even know is she realizes it. My brother is having a birthday party for my sister in law. I love my sister in law, in fact I just call her my sister, as that's who she is to me. Yet, I can't see myself at a party with a bunch of couples, laughing and having a good time. What they don't realize is that one of Michael's most happy memories together was having party/gathering at their home. It was the first time he was meeting all of my family together, and my brother and sister made him feel so much at ease by their joyous nature. I can still picture him smiling, and laughing in their patio.

Back to the gem. My mother was talking to my sister, and explained that it would be unrealistic to expect me to go to such a party. My mother reminded her that while the rest of them have kept moving forward, life for me has moved extremely slow. She said that the rest of my family just doesn't realize this. She is so right. If they did, they would realize how slow, and quiet, my life continues to be.

Well, this was not meant to be a woe is me type of post. I just don't want my newly widowed readers to think that at 18 months, Dan, in real time, is doing exceptionally well. It just doesn't work that way. I know what people want to hear. I know what people don't want to hear. And, I know what people would prefer for me.

Sorry folks, that's not my reality.

My reality is that it is a hard and difficult road. It's also a very long, and lonely road. Sometimes I wish it was a dead end, but it's not. I know that I must keep walking. And, I know that I will to continue walking. Just not as fast as you might think.

Alive and, well...

...I wish I could say that I'm well, or that I have been so busy out having fun, dating, and moving forward with my life, but that would be a bold face lie.

Truth be told, I am stuck. I am stuck in the damned mud, and have put little effort to get myself out of it. Where am I stuck? In the land of the non-living. In the land of the morbidly lonely.

I was thinking about this a lot today at work. I feel so isolated at the office. (More on that later.) I came home tonight and found that a reader, Jimmy, had left a message on my blog, basically wondering where the hell I was, or more apt, how I was. It made me smile, and laugh a bit as well.

Where I am is lost. Where I am is disconnected. Where I am is alone.

I was thinking about this at work, as I feel so "not" connected to anyone in the office. Part of the problem is that I am a floater, no not a fluffer, at least that job would have me interacting with others. Just as soon as I was developing friendships, and enjoying lots of laughs at the office, they up and moved me. Currently I'm in a unit, and floor, that is a bit more reserved. The women I work with are friendly enough, but everyone seems to keep to themselves most of the time. Also, they have worked with each other for quite some time, so they have developed strong friendships. I get the feeling that when people see me walking by, they wonder who I am, or perhaps realize that I'm just floating through the floor, so don't get too invested.

One of the things I really long for is friendships, relationships, with other men. For a social service agency, there are a significant amount of men who work there. The problem is, they don't seem too friendly. I take that back, there are a few very nice guys, who do go out of their way to say hi when we cross paths, but most don't say anything to me. Even when I say hi, or smile, I don't get much in return. What am I, the plague? The kiss of death?

It made me start to wonder why this is happening. Of course the easiest thing to turn toward is my being gay. One thing that I have realized in moving to San Diego, is that it is much more conservative than I am used to. Not that this is a surprise, but I guess I expected different. You know, when you work in a field that is filled predominately by women, you would think that the guys would reach out to each other. Not the case with me. I can't seem to get those connections made.

Driving home I was doing my usual combination of trying to sort out my life, and fight back tears. If I look at my life, and who has been there for me, it's the ladies. When Michael was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and I went looking for online support groups I turned to a brain tumor caregivers group. Now I can't say I was the only guy, there were a few that popped in and out, but I was the only one who became a regular in the group. It was me, and the hundreds of ladies. I remember searching online for a men's caregiver group, but it didn't exist. When one guy in the brain tumor online group asked about starting an off-shoot men's group, I said that I was interested, but wanted him to know that the person I was caring for was another man, not a women. I never heard back from him.

After Michael died I found myself in the same situation. I searched, and searched, trying to find a gay widowers group, which for a short time I had in San Francisco, but it ended after only eight weeks. In turning to the Internet, I came up empty handed. When I looked for a basic widowers group, no such deal. So I ventured out into cyberspace on my own, by way of this blog. Now, one of the first to embrace me was another widower blogger, turns out there are maybe three of us. But who are the ones that welcomed me into their lives, the ladies once again. God love them. I do.

This all really makes me wonder, what the fuck is wrong with me. Am I not acting like a true man? Obviously not. Now I know there are guys out there who lose their spouse, or guys at the workplace who could use a new friend, but are guys not supposed to express such needs? Once again, obviously not.

If I am honest, I need to take some responsibility here. I know that I have many insecurities. You can't grow up as a gay kid, especially a Latino (meaning male of Hispanic origin) and not feel like you don't measure up. When I think back to the Camp Widow that I attended last summer, I can share with you many great conversations I had with many of the women there, but can only recall one conversation with one of the guys. I just wonder where exactly am I supposed to fit in? If I join a widower's (meaning male) support group, they will be talking about losing their wife (meaning female.) If I try to join in on a widow's (meaning female) group, we are all talking about losing our husband (meaning male,) except I am not a woman.

This is depressing. Let's move on to dating.

Recently I have put a lot of effort into joining some online dating services. I have posted pictures and filled out every detail requested in the profile. Some guys have stopped to read my profile, but nobody is writing to me. Is it that ugly word, widower, that may be sending them running? I know that I am not an unattractive guy, so really, what could it be?

Okay, by now you are all sufficiently tired of all my moaning and complaining. I am too. If you are really frustrated with me, blame it on Jimmy, he's the one that begged me to write. Here is something I am working on. I need to stop being such a passive guy, and go out there, hit some guy over the head with my club, and drag him back to my man cave.

I recently bought myself a Kindle. Yes, yet another electronic toy. Further proof that yes, I am a man. I really needed it, as I can increase the font size so that I can actually read what is in front of me. Get some glasses you say? Fuck no. I paid a lot of money years ago for Lasik surgery, and I'll be damned if I will wear glasses again. Anyway, that wasn't the point. I have been reading a book called The Manly Art of Seduction: How to Meet, Talk To, and Become Intimate with Anyone It is written primarily for gay men, but it's a great book for men in general. At first glance, you would think the book is about how to get someone into your bed. Now maybe that is the ultimate goal for many of us, but it takes this much deeper. It is really making me look at myself, and own up to my own insecurities and fear of rejection. The book is written in a workbook fashion, and it tries to help you understand how to get a date and move it forward into intimacy, both emotional and sexual. Who doesn't want that?

Anyway, this is my current attempt to pull myself up by my bootstraps. And speaking of straps, have I shared with you how much fun a leather whip can be?

Beauty

I sit here surrounded by beauty. I love beautiful things. I have carefully selected each item to bring into my home. Each possesses a quality that brings me to peace. Each has a aesthetic that blends with what ever mood I am in.

Tonight I am feeling pensive. Is that a feeling?

I went to a cocktail party tonight. It was a client appreciation event given by my realtor, Jonathan. He is a wonderful guy, and puts so much effort into bringing each of his clients into the fold of his family. I got to meet a few new people, and was especially excited to meet Patricia, the loan officer for my new home. We had corresponded by phone and email, and even shared some thoughts on grief along the way. It was nice to put a person, a face, to the voice.

Going out like tonight is such a stretch for me. It is quite far beyond my comfort zone. I was thinking about this on my way home. I kind of have two distinct persona's these days. At work, as a professional, I am very self assured, and find a way to connect with people everyday. At home, in my personal life, I am much more reserved, and feel more vulnerable.

I went tonight, as I think Jonathan would have been disappointed if I didn't show up, but it was so tempting to find a reason not to go. You see, I am very uncomfortable in these social types of situations. I was also more filled with anxiety, as the room would be filled with many happy new home owners, which I assumed would translate to many happy couples. I was right.

I realize that it has been 17 months that I have been single once again, but I still feel like I am wearing a sweater that doesn't truly fit. It feels stiff, and unlived in. I know that the more I wear it out in public, the more it will soften, and in time it will be an old familiar and comfortable fit.

As I stood there, smiling at everyone at the party, I couldn't help but think about the person missing to my right. He was also a bit of a wall flower at such events, so we were perfectly matched in that way.

You know, this road has been quite difficult. It has introduced me to a level of pain I never knew existed. It introduced me to a life I never wanted, nor was ready for. But I must say, I have come a long way. When I drove up to my home, I sat in the car, and decided to check my email on my phone. There was a message that was left on a blog post from last year, entitled Gay Grief. It is the one post that usually comes up quickly in a Google search, which is exactly like I wanted it to.

Back when all this started, 17 months ago, I sat there on my bed, in the middle of the night, and tried to find someone out there, someone with a voice like mine. I didn't find it. I was looking to something for this heart broken gay husband, who had just been transformed into a widower. I felt so alone, and could feel myself sinking deeper and deeper into despair. Those feeling didn't get any better for quite a long time, but I just kept on writing, as it gave me a reason to wake up the next day.

Tonight a new gay widower found my blog, and poured out his heart. He too knows despair. He too is feeling so alone. He too wonders why he is here. I share this to let him know, and all others that need to hear it, we are here. There are many of us here. We know your pain. Some of us have wondered how we will survive without the person we love. Some of us have come close to making a choice to end it all. I was one of those people. I am pleased to say that I survived one very scary night, and I continue to survive. Is my life easier these days? Yes. Do I still feel the deep pain of my loss? Yes, again.

I do believe that there will be beauty again in my life, and in my heart. I do believe that I will slowly become more comfortable away from my own home. I do hope that my nights will not always be so quiet, and so alone. Until then, I will continue to stretch my wings. I will continue to draw peace and comfort from the beauty that I surround myself with. I will continue to find joy in the little things I do each day.

Today I worked on my backyard. It is lined with very tall, and out of control, bamboo. It grows faster than I can keep up with, and takes a great amount of strenuous work to maintain, but it is quite satisfying. I do like hard work. I love to look behind me, and see all that I have accomplished.

When I was done working, I got myself something cold to drink, then sat on a chair out on my back deck. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a lovely cool breeze. I looked up at the sky, and saw beauty. I smiled, and felt joy.

Open House

It's midnight, and everyone has gone to sleep. One of the unfortunate aspects of having my oldest son back in therapeutic placement is that I now have this big house, with only myself and my 12 year old, Remy, in it. I know that eventually my older son will begin visiting on weekends, and eventually my daughter's life will slow down a bit so that she can start visiting more often, but for now, it's rather quiet.

This weekend I have five days off in a row. Due to big cuts in the state budget, the agency that I work for has had to resort to eight furlough days without pay during the next 6 months. While it's nice to have more time at home, it does mean less money, and less time to get the same amount of work done. Oh well, I can't do anything about that.

What I can do is find ways to not feel too lonely in my own home. The prospect of sitting here for five days, feeling low, was too much for me. The first couple of days I found some fun decorating activities, but now I'm spent too much money, and the projects are done with, so life starts moving slowly once again. I decided that it would be a perfect time to have my parents back here for a visit. I really loved having them with me during the Christmas holiday, and since they no longer drive long distances, if I want them to visit, then I need to go get them.

I gave my folks a call, letting them know that since I was not working, I would love to have them visit. They also thought it was a great idea, so I drove the two hours to their home, and now they are here. We sat and talk most of the day, cooked our dinner together, then talked some more late into the evening. I love my parents, and greatly appreciate the gift that they are to me. And, because my parents are here, one of my brothers called and said he and his family would like to come visit tomorrow as well.

This is the gift that keeps on giving!

Tonight I realized that I have only used my oven on two occasions, and both times have been because my parents were here. I love catering to them, and cooking for them. I love discussing my job with them, and explaining how I came to decorate my home in certain ways. I love sharing my world with them. Because I made the move to southern California, I am able to do this more often. Having these types of visits have really helped fill a big void in my life. I get to sit in my home, share it with other adults, and have adult conversations. I get to talk about Michael, about my grief, and hear of their feelings about the man that I lost.

And because of the loss that I have experienced, I don't take any of these opportunities for granted. Just like I knew that I would not always have Michael, I know that I will not always have my parents. I want to enjoy my time with them as often as possible.

I'm realizing that my home is just like my heart, if I open it, they will come.

Peace

"Well, the weather outside is frightful...."

Actually, it's not so bad at the moment. We here in Southern California have suffered through too much rain as of late, and after a couple of nice sunny days, it appears that the clouds are rolling back in.

Let's hope my grief doesn't follow suit.

I've tried my best to make this another generic Christmas. Last year I stayed at home, which was San Francisco at the time. This year I did the same, but went and collected my parents first. I decided it would be nice to have them here for the weekend, as they really wanted to see my new home, and I really wanted a distraction from my usual depressed self.

Success. Sort of.

Something I also did these past two Christmases without Michael, was to simplify my decorating, and put up only new decorations. It has helped me feel a bit festive, make the kids and my parents smile, and not remind me Christmases past when I was much happier with Michael beside me. It was going great until I left the house last night to pick up my daughter from work. She ended up working late, which kept me waiting in the parking lot for over an hour, then found that she was not ready, in my mind, to really participate in our Christmas Eve celebration. A lot of anger came out, as there have been a couple of unresolved issues that I needed to call her on. While on my way back to the house I called and asked my youngest son to please set the table for our formal dinner. I had spent a good part of the afternoon cooking a turkey, and all the trimmings. Well, my son took it upon himself to unpack some "fancy" wine glasses that he felt we needed to properly serve our chilled sparkling cider. When I walked in the door, my new dining table was set with Michael's more ornate wine glasses that I had purposefully not unpacked. Not only that, he had broken one while unpacking. He must have seen my reaction, and began to explain why he had chosen the glasses. I let him know it was fine, then quickly joined the group for dinner. Once I had finished forcing the food down, I excused myself to go finish wrapping presents, and to have a good cry.

It was a good release to cry. I then pulled myself together, and brought out the rest of the gifts, and set up the deserts for everyone to enjoy. The kids then happily opened their gifts early, and we had a good time. I had purchased some Victorian "Crackers", which were filled with jokes and trivia. My parents really enjoyed these, so we sat around popping the crackers, and cracking up with all the lame jokes.

This morning we all got up early, and went to Christmas Mass at the local Catholic church. It felt very strange, yet also very comforting. I have pulled away from attending a church, as my anger at God for taking Michael away, coupled with my anger with his followers taking away my right to marry, made for a less than spiritual experience. The kids had also been feeling the same way I had, yet also seemed to really get something out of attending today's mass. Who knows, maybe we will find our way back before next Christmas arrives.

Today has been good. I'm not feeling very joyous, but I'm also not feeling extremely sad. I'm just feeling quiet, and contemplative. I think this will be the week that I also make a return to my yoga class. I think it is time to resurface, and begin interacting with other adults once again. There is going to be a New Years Eve Yoga Flow Class. We will be ushering in the new year with our various poses and meditational states. Perhaps it's just what I need.

I hope each of you can find something that brings you peace, and something that helps you take that next step forward. You have each been a great source of support to me, and provide me with a reason to keep expressing myself.

Love to all.

Dan

I Thought...I Wish.

***WHINE ALERT***WHINE ALERT***WHINE ALERT***

Another busy day at work. By the end of the day I was the only one left in the office. Most had left for the day, and many had left for time off for the holidays. Man, do I wish I could take time off right now. Being new, and with little to no vacation time earned, I will be working straight through the holidays. And judging by the stack of boxes that border each room in my new home, I haven't made much progress in the unpacking department.

I left the quiet office, and walked out into the cold night. Mine was one of the few cars still left in the lot. How symbolic for me. All alone in the dark cold night. As usual, I got into my car, took a deep breath, and let the tears flow. This time I cried more than usual. It's the holiday season, and most people are filled with joy. I wish I could be joyous. I sat there in the car, sobbing, and feeling angry and resentful once again. Why did I only get three and a half years with my husband? Why do others get what seems like an eternity? Why do I return home every night alone? Well, the kids are there, but you know what I mean.

I feel so cheated. I feel so let down by life. I feel so let down by God. I'm trying to psyche myself up for an early Christmas celebration with my extended family on Saturday. We will be gathering at my parents home that day since each of my brothers and their wives will spend Christmas in their own homes. They will experience the joy of waking up next to the person they love, and exchange gifts, and cuddle next to the fire. I on the other hand, will be sitting here desperately clutching my laptop, which is my only extension to what feels like real life.

What hurts the most is that it doesn't feel like my family understands how hard this still is for me. They love me, and are good to me, but I don't think they get how hard it is to hear so much laughter and joy. They don't see how it rips my heart apart just being around them, and seeing how happy they are. When I am with them the conversation often turns to issues of being a couple, and the jokes fly about things they say and do with their spouses. I'm a good brother, and I just smile, or try to discretely separate myself from the situation.

I know there is nothing anyone can do to change what life has dealt me. I get it. I know that I have to learn to move forward, and I am. It just hurts like hell, and in times like these, the holidays, I do find myself thinking about how different we thought life would be. Michael and I had it all planned out. We talked about the house we would buy together. We talked about working on that house together. We talked about growing old together. We pictured ourselves, two old men, sitting on the porch, resting with a cold beverage after working all afternoon in the yard. I thought about how lovely life would be, always sleeping next to that person who loves me, and who I love with all my heart.

I thought about becoming grandparents together. I thought about all the travel we would do. I thought about all the passionate nights of sex we would have, even through our "golden years." I thought about all the ornaments we would collect over the years, and how much fun we would have reminiscing while decorating the tree each year. I thought about all the traditions we would create together. I thought about how we would use our wedding china for every special dinner. I thought about how happy we would be.

As I may have mentioned in the past, I rarely dream. In fact, I have only seen Michael in my dreams on two occasions since he died, and both times were about his final days. I tell myself that I don't allow myself to dream so that it won't hold me back, yet I now find myself wishing I could. I wish I could have this fantasy life in my dream world. I wish I could be visited by Michael, or that I could go visit him where ever he may be. I wish I could feel his embrace, or to see his smile once again. When I can't sleep at night I talk to him. I ask him to come back to me, if only for a minute. I tell him I won't be afraid, and I won't even tell a soul that he was here. Yet, nothing.

It's no good, none of this is helping me. Even as I write this I am telling myself that these things are not good for me. I tell myself that if I really thought it would help me, that I would be dreaming about him. I hate that about myself. I know what's good for me, so I don't allow myself to be self indulgent. Well, maybe just a little.

If you are still reading, then bless you. I don't know if I could stick with this if these thoughts were not pouring out of my own head. I hate whining. But as my kids say, don't be a hater!

Okay, I feel better now. I just needed to get this all out.

I'll be fine.

Eventually.

Endurance.

I want to thank each of you who read, and each that leave me messages. I take each of your thoughts to heart, and use them as my mantra each day. I am trying to draw strength from the encouragement.

The emotional turbulence that is often my oldest son has settled down a bit. New psychiatrist, new medication, and perhaps just time, has brought back some stability. I was definitely at breaking point, and I pray that this reprieve will last awhile. It has become increasing difficult to have the same presence of mind, or surplus of patience, that I once had when things got this challenging.

I also find that there is little about daily life that lifts me from my depression. I get breaks from the new low during my work day. My office mate and I often have good conversations, and even have a good laugh here and there. My work with families is rewarding, and I take great pride in providing a service to the parents of young children who are exhibiting delays in their development. I really feel like I have much to offer, and they are always so eager for help and support. But it's those long pieces of time, in between these brief distractions, where I find myself consumed by my sadness.

I know people are concerned, and I know they wish I was further along in this process, but I don't have the will to be something I am not, happy. This is not to say I am closed off to happiness, just that it isn't present at this time.

I can endure. I can keep myself afloat, but I have to be who I am. I feel like something will soon happen that will be the catalyst for change in my heart. I'm not sure what it is, but it will happen.

I am not without hope, just lacking inspiration.

Patience and Perseverance.

I am struggling to balance gratitude with sorrow. I wish that I could report differently, but my mood suffers from this double edged blade that cuts through my existence, making progress possible. I have many things to be grateful for. A family that loves and respects me is at the top of my list. I also have friends who always share words of encouragement when we connect. I have a job, and income, and a new home on the horizon. What more could I ask for?

No, I'm not going to ask for something that I cannot have. That would be pointless, and only set me up for disappointment. I suppose I would be better served asking for perseverance.

I have been very excited about the prospect of moving into my new home. I have been planning what needs to be done, and making a list of priorities. I have been thinking about what I will need in the house, as I gave away so much of what I had before leaving San Francisco. Now that I will be moving back into a permanent home, I see that I was a bit over zealous.

This afternoon I took a trip to the local IKEA store. I decided that I would just walk throughout the store, and see what kind of things inspired me. Perhaps it would help me in identifying what my new home lacks, and what I can afford to purchase. I wanted to have some kind of a plan. As I walked through the store it was filled with so many people, all in good spirits, enjoying their outing, and discussing among themselves what would work in their homes. I found this outing to be quite challenging. It really made me acknowledge that I am on my own.

When you shop with others, there is always the playful differences of opinion. "Oh, that would be perfect in our living room." "Are you serious? What house were you thinking of?" When Michael and I combined our homes, we didn't necessarily have the same tastes, but we had fun finding compromise. When we did this we were able to share in the pride of what we created, and we could share in the laughter at the disasters. Doing all this on my own leaves me feeling a bit empty.

I didn't allow my mood to stop me from going through each department in the store, but it made it more work than pleasure. Perhaps that is how it will be for awhile. There will be the ongoing shift between working through my grief, and experiencing the pleasure that life can bring. Like everything else, it will be an up hill climb. I know that I won't always feel so sad, and I know that there will be lots of happy times ahead for me. I going to be patient, and hope that others can be patient with me.

Resurrecting Frank

Yesterday I was talking with my new friend and office mate, Gaye. She has taken to reading my blog, and was checking in with me about some of my recently shared thoughts, and primarily about the idea of dating.

"Are you ready?"

Good question to ask. Of course I thought about this, right? If I'm going to put it out there to the universe, and to the guys of Match.com, I should be able to sufficiently answer this. So, when I turned back to Gaye, I had a clear and confident answer, correct? Wrong.

I'm not really sure.

As I was later driving home from work, I began my usual free association of thoughts and feelings. What came to mind was that it was the Day of the Dead. And, in my bizarre, lost in the realm of death, mindset, I asked myself this question. Can the dead be revived? No, I wasn't thinking about Michael. I was thinking about me.

In the last few years I have seen most of my hopes and dreams get killed off. One right after another. To this day, I most often feel like the walking dead. Yes, I am working hard to re-enter the land of the living, but it's not something I can just will myself into. How can I return to feeling that human connection to those not so closely affected by death? How do I enter into new relationships without bringing along a third wheel ghost?

It all has me thinking that I need to find myself a local Dr. Frankenstein to raise me from the dead. I need some new life brought into this dead body and soul of mine. A good place to start would be my damaged and broken heart. Some how my heart needs to be stitched back together so that it will be able to function when that next Mr. Right comes along. With my heart back in working order my blood will be able to start moving throughout my body a little better, and hopefully reanimate my sense of touch, which has gone dormant during this year long winter of grief. And, lets be frank, if the blood is not pumping, then neither will I when the opportunity presents itself. I know that I still have sexual desires, but for quite some time my desires have been more about self soothing than about sharing an experience with another person.

And, as Dr. Frankenstein found with his own creature, with new life there are always expectations, or hope. Hope for what can be. To be ready I need to embrace hope. this in itself is quite scary. Do I trust the universe once again with my heart? Trusting it the last time around brought me exactly what I wanted, yet just as quickly took it away.

I would have to say that right now, I have little hope. But, there is someone who had lots of hope for my future, who did envision me with a new love. Michael. He reminded me all the time that he wanted, and expected, me to find someone else to love. He spoke of my next relationship as a given, which in a small way opened the door for such hope.

Can I be raised from the dead?

Am I ready?

Frankly, I don't really know. Yet, I am willing to allow someone, perhaps me, to flip that switch, and to send forth that surge of energy that will get me started.

Franken me.

Day of the Dead

The photo accompanying this post is of a Day of the Dead shadow box that Michael and I purchased on our honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta. I recognize that the idea of purchasing such an item on our honeymoon might seem a bit morbid, yet it was done in a spirit of joy. We were newly married, and enjoying all the rights and celebrations that any other newlywed couple might. Why wouldn't we appreciate a bit of morbid humor when it comes to souvenirs.


Traditionally, Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, is a holiday, and celebration, associated with Mexican traditions. The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember friends and family members who have died.


Last year, in remembrance of Michael, I began the alter of items that has since grown, and now surrounds his urn. Throughout the past year, it has come to include many small treasures that my son Remy found at our local swap meet when we lived in San Francisco. It has collected some dried flowers, art work and sweet treats brought over by my daughter Arianne for special anniversary dates associated with Michael or I. It also has a few other small items given to me during the past year by friends, in relation to my grieving process. And of significance, is that now sitting there with these things are our wedding rings, and the urn necklace that I recently removed from my neck. Throughout the year, almost on a daily basis, I have also had tea lights burning, casting a warm glow as I sit, read, or write.


This year I have chosen not to add anything further. I need to begin the process of separation. I want to rely less on inanimate objects, and feel held more by my memories. I had a stronger need to hold onto these small treasures during the last year, and now feel the need to gently push myself a bit further along in my "moving forward" journey. The small treasures will remain on the alter until our next move, yet will not be unpacked when settled into our new home. Some will go into the urn with Michael's ashes, and the others in a keepsake box. I will always cherish these treasures, but not rely on them.


In thinking about Michael on this day, I think it goes without saying that I love and treasure him immensely. He brought so much joy into my life, and provided me with several loving and passionate years. And while I have been in quite an emotional slump these past few days, I can see my way out of it enough to appreciate the gift that Michael was to my life. I have never been more happy than when I was with him. One thing that I want to say today is that I am very grateful to all the people that were part of Michael's life before me. I feel like each and every one of them contributed to the beautiful person he was. Michael was an excellent story teller, and he had so many stories that he loved to tell, and re-tell, about his various adventures in the past. He would start telling me a story, then turn to me and say, "did I already tell you about this?" Of course he had, yet I always smiled and listened to it for the 100th time. It was later such a joy when I would able to meet the people that encompassed the stories, live in person. I would then be able to get the other side of the story, even though Michael always swore that his telling of it was the "truthful version."


I love to now tell 'Michael Stories.' They warm my heart, and put a smile on a face that doesn't have one naturally any longer. I know that in time these stories, and memories, and all the joy they carry, will become more predominate in my life. I know that with each day sorrow will lessen, as it already has. I know that the power of love will prevail, and my love for him, and his love for me, will propel me forward.

Namaste

Okay, so I had to write tonight. I'm being my ol' obsessive self, and couldn't resist the need to make it to 365 days of non-stop posting.

I'm not sure what triggered the beginning of this "No Day Without A Post" thing. It was probably done without much thought. Yet, once I realized that I had begun writing every day, I decided to make a personal commitment to talking in "real time" every day for a year. I kind of knew that it would be a way of making a commitment to be somewhere, and to have others in turn expect to find me here each day.

There were so many times during the past year, especially in April, that I really didn't want to continue, with writing, or with life. There were definitely some very dark days, and having made this commitment gave me a purpose beyond just going completely under with my grief. I also wanted to create something. I wanted to have something for others who later follow me in grief, to look at, and perhaps find something that allows them to feel less alone.

When Michael died I was at a complete loss. I didn't know where to turn. I wanted so much to find others who were like me, and began searching. My initial searches were for other gay widowers. I looked for blogs, books, websites, anything really. I didn't find a hell of a lot. I feel proud of myself, in that I have now created a place where other gay or lesbian widowed can seek, and find, someone else out here who has been in their shoes.

What surprised me, is all that I have gained from this experience. I have gained so many wonderful and loving friends. I have gained an appreciation for my experience thus far. And I have learned that there are more people than I originally thought, that can relate to me as a widower, without getting tripped up about my being gay. Now I'm sure that there are many that have found my blog by chance, then quickly left once they read the sub-heading that says "One Gay Man's Journey Through Love, Life and Grief." This is true, as I have been able to use my site meter to see who enters my blog, and how quickly they leave. That's okay, I don't expect to be everybody's cup of tea.

What is important is that we are all here. Those of us that choose to share of our experience, offer a wide range of diversity from which other's may choose. We expose our hearts and souls, find healing, and enter into the exchange of support. It's an incredible medium, and we should all be proud, and grateful. And even though my writing will now be less frequent, know that I am still here day by day, plugging along, trying to make sense of my life.

I hope to one day have the strength of heart to read what I have written during this past year. I have never gone back to re-read any of my posts. Once I publish them, I let them go. It helps me to not dwell too much on the past, and to not get pulled down by taking myself back through some of the darker days.

Love to all of you.

God bless, and Namaste.

Simple Gestures

Tonight I feel blessed.

Tonight I was visited by two friends.

Two friends of Michael's.

Two friends of mine.

Michael was part of a wonderful group of people who ventured out in their younger years to Africa with the Peace Corp. In the time that Michael and I became a couple, I came to know, and love, each of these people. Tonight two friends that he loved so much came to share a meal with the boys and me. They brought the gift of food. They brought the gift of memories past. They brought a vested interest in where I find myself today. And, they brought with them a genuine optimism for my future.

I am often aware that in these type of occasions, there is the opportunity for friends, or family, to feel a sense of Michael being present through me. In some ways I have become their link to him. After this evening, I see that they too keep him present for me. Their goodness, their joy, and their kindness, are of the same kindred spirit that encompassed Michael. It's not so much that they bring some of Michael to me, rather, it's that Michael continues to provide these friendships for me. He laid the groundwork that allowed each of us that knew and loved him, to now feel the same for each other.

Later this evening, after the house was quiet, and I was sitting alone, I received a call. It was from a fairly new friend that I have made through this blog. He is also a gay widower, whose husband died from the same tumor that took Michael. We also have many other commonalities that allow for a real sense of connectedness. I really enjoyed talking, laughing, and sharing, how each of us are doing at this moment in time. Funny, he lives in the SF Bay Area, yet I didn't get to know him until I moved 500 miles away.

Paths will be crossed, connections and friendships will be made. Each brings me a sense of purity. Purity of the heart. Each helps soothe my aching heart by the simple gesture of extending friendship.

Yes folks, it's that simple.

Without You I Am Nothing

Sadness looms, but I'll be okay.

I hesitate to write tonight, because I wanted to feel better, and to have something positive to say. Yet, to be real with you all, I am still in a very sad place. I will come out of it, but it is what it is today.

Yesterday I received an amazing outpouring of support from all of you, from my kids, and from many of my friends and family. And while I wasn't really in a space to talk to anyone, I did benefit from the messages, texts and Facebook postings. Throughout most of the day I found myself trying to just breathe, but to keep it together.

Male machismo at it's best.

Yet there were two interactions that just broke down my guarded exterior, and that was a brief visit by my daughter, and a telephone call by my parents. These were the two interactions that allowed me to cry, to sob, and in the case of my daughter, to be held. I am starting to see the benefits that come along when your children become adults, and begin taking advantage of opportunities to give back. Yesterday my daughter came through for me, and I love her very much for that. With my parents, I become that little boy that needs their reassurance. The moment I answered the telephone, and heard their voices tell me they were thinking about what a perfect day it was two years ago at our wedding, well, I could feel their loving arms around me. It was also difficult, as I know how much it hurts them to hear me hurt. They just kept reminding me that they think about Mike all the time, and continue to appreciate and love him for the love he gave to me.

Even writing this chokes me up.

Another realization is that today I have such an extensive group of friends that I have made by being widowed. Through this blog, and through other grief related interactions, I have had the pleasure to meet, and know, the most beautiful and caring people. And these people literally circle the globe. It has been an amazing journey when I think of this. And I can honestly say, I cannot imagine my life without all of you. I don't think I would be here today without having had these connections.

Without you, I am nothing.

Alternate Universe

Some where in an alternate universe, I woke up to an entirely different day altogether.

It was a Tuesday morning, and the weather was slightly cool out. I could tell this because my body was firmly pressed up against Michael for warm keeping. As I came into a more conscious state of awakening, I found that my arms and legs, were carefully intertwined with his. He was still sound asleep, as we had both chosen to take the day off. I just laid there, feeling the warmth of his body, and feeling the slow movement of his breathing, and took it all in. How lucky am I? I have the beautiful and loving man, right here in my bed, and in my arms. I didn't want to awaken him, so I gently kissed him on his left shoulder, as I had every other morning, and I quietly shifted my body away from him, and off our bed.

I turned off the alarm of my clock, put on my robe and slippers, then made the trek upstairs to get the kids out of bed. I may have the day off, but they will be going to school. I had major plans today, and those plans did not include a group of teenagers hanging around the house. The kids were their usual grumpy selves, but managed to get themselves moving along, and were each off to school at the designated time. Before leaving the house though, they each made sure that I remembered to tell Michael happy anniversary from them.

I put on a pot of coffee, knowing that we would definitely want a cup later in the morning. I fed the animals, and made sure they were each happy, and that they would not be coming down to our bedroom door to whine about needing something. I also turned up the heat on the furnace, as it is usually off at this point, since we are both usually at work during the day.

When I got back downstairs Michael was still fast asleep, only now his body was splayed out across my side of the bed. I stood there at the door and smiled. Whenever I was not in our bed, Michael always slept at an angle, so that his head could safely rest on my pillow. It was quite endearing, but the poor son of a bitch was going to have to move over and make some room for me. I quietly went into our bathroom to brush my teeth, and to make sure I looked picture perfect before climbing back into bed. I moved to my side of the bed, and gently rolled Michael back toward the center. I held his body with one arm, so he wouldn't just roll back when I climbed back onto my side. Once in bed I put my arm back around him, and felt his warmth all around me.

I could feel him gently starting to stir. As usual, Michael then inched his body back toward me, positioning himself into a comfy spoon position. My left arm swept across his hairy stomach and chest, then rested sort of midway. This caused Michael to stir a bit more, and press himself toward me even further. I lifted myself up by my right elbow to take a look at his face. Sure enough, he was smiling that devilish grin. I reached over, planted a kiss on the side of his face, "Happy Anniversary Honey." His head turned to the left, he reach up, and planted a firm kiss on my lips, "Happy Anniversary Dear." I then laid back down, and pulled him even closer. With that, my sleepy Michael began to awaken. I could feel his left arm begin searching, then reaching out for my leg. I looked up again, and his smile grew wider. "I'm trying to sleep dear," I said to him. "Oh, there is plenty of time for sleep later" said Michael.

Indeed there was. We made love, then fell back asleep, cozy in our bed. A couple of hours later I was awakened by the sound of Michael opening our bedroom door, and entering with two hot cups of coffee. He placed one cup at the side of my bed, then walked around to his side, and climbed back in. He propped up his pillows, got out his Sudoku book, and got to work. I turned toward him, and said out loud, "you are so fucking romantic." He laughed, then reached down to plant another kiss upon me.

The rest of the day is a fog, as it can get no better than this. Happiness, and celebrations, don't need very much to be appreciated. It is the simple things that mean the world. The simple acknowledgement that we are loved, and that we are appreciated. In turn, we convey our love with a worthy small gesture. No more, no less.

Tonight I meditate on a love shared, and a love that will endure. My day has been filled with sadness, and with more tears than expected, but that's okay. As I sit here in the emotional safety of my bedroom, I am filled with Michael's love. I can allow myself to experience this alternate universe where life did not end for us. I can remember many mornings just like this. They were real, as was our love.

This was no fantasy, just a day in the life that we once shared.