WHO AM I?

Since Tom died, I am not myself. I hardly know who I am. After being one of a pair for so many years, I seem to have lost my identity. When I fill out forms, I check off "single" rather than "married" now, and that doesn't seem right. I have also joined the ranks of widows, a group in which I do not yet feel at home. I go through the motions of living everyday life, but I feel like a displaced person in my own life and my own house. Even so, I want to stay in my house as long as possible. The thought of moving is quite daunting.

I've never had difficulty being alone. In fact, time alone has always been a necessity for me, even when I had very little of it. I remember retreating to the bathroom when Tom was home in the evening, and the children were young. I'd lock the door and spend as much time as possible in the bathtub. That was my time alone to recoup and recover.

Tom and I shared interests, but we both had different interests, too, and went our separate ways to follow the interests that differed. Yet, all the while Tom was the strong thread that ran though my life even when we were physically separated, and I knew we would be together again. Now he's gone forever. I'm not drowning in sorrow missing Tom. I have my sad moments, but, the truth is I'm not quite as sad as I think I should be, and I feel a bit guilty about it.

To complicate matters, when I stopped going to church several years ago, I gradually lost my religion. By religion I mean I lost faith in church and Christian denominations. Then I lost my faith in God. I say "lost" because not having faith is a loss. My faith was a comfort to me, and it left me at a most inconvenient time.

It is said that faith is a gift. Job said,"Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." What's not there is not there, and wishing or saying it's there won't make it so. At the moment, I don't feel like blessing God, if there is a God. I don't call myself an atheist, because I have no certainty that God or a First Cause of some sort does not exist. I assume I now fall into another unfamiliar group of agnostics.

TOM AND DIANA IN HER BETTER DAYS

We are watching our dog Diana, who is 17 years old, deteriorate slowly. It's painful and depressing to see our once lively companion in such a sad way. She sleeps most of the time, but she still eats, drinks, and potties outside. She's losing weight because she eats much less than when she was healthier. Diana is deaf, has only one eye, and is nearly blind in the one. She has severe arthritis, but we give her anti-inflammatory medication every day, and she doesn't seem to be in pain. She's also on medication for failing kidney function.

Our benchmarks are if she stops eating, or can't get up, or can't walk, then it's time. Also, the weight loss is a concern. Most likely, we will pay a visit next week to one of our wonderful and compassionate veterinarians for an opinion about her weight.

Diana is in love with Tom at the moment. On the days when he works at the boat museum, she is obviously depressed, doesn't eat, and sleeps most of the day until he comes home in the late afternoon. On the days he's home, she eats better and follows him around wherever he goes until she decides it's time for a nap.

I miss my walks with Diana.  She still gets excited when she sees or hears or smells the leash, but she goes only a short way down the street now, and sometimes not even that far, sometimes only to the end of the driveway. That was our time, and that is gone.  I think she functions more by smell now, since the other two senses are pretty much gone.
   
The time is much more difficult than I had imagined. Rusty, who came before Diana, had lymphoma, and his decline was much faster, but I suppose one should not expect to be cheerful during a death watch.  I find I'm grieving for her before she is gone.  Grief will have its way, and I can do nothing else but go with it and love her as long as she is with us.