Tuesday, 12 June 2012

Grief and Loneliness

Kind people ask me how I am.  The first answer is that I am alive and Helen is not, so why should I complain. Which I express as "I'm ok".

The second answer, which I cannot long conceal, is that I am grieving still.  All sorts of things set me off.  And I don't mind the tears, they are a tribute to her.

The third answer, which I have kept mostly to myself, is that I am diminished without her in a way that I failed to foresee while she was alive.  I don't mean that I miss the things we used to do together, though of course I do.  I mean that I take less pleasure in the things I enjoy, because I cannot talk to her about them.  I mean that I have less confidence in my judgment, because she isn't here to trust in it.  I mean that I have less motivation to do necessary things I don't want to do, because I can't tell her I've done them.  I mean that I am alone, not in the sense that I lack congenial company, but in the much deeper sense that I am without the person I had built into my life.

I tried to think of a better word for this than 'loneliness'.  Is there one?


  1. "And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." Kahlil Gibran

    Click here.