60 is okay by me

Ever since I turned 60 on May 1st, I've been feeling a subtle change in my "being." The depressive fog that has shrouded me seems to be lifting a bit, and I am certainly happy about that. Being a grounded earth sign, I generally don't "feel" things. Every time Dennis and I went to Hawaii, for instance, he'd always say, "Don't you feel the energy here?" And of course, I'd reply, "No. I enjoy it when we're here, but all I 'feel' is the sun on my face, the trade winds at my back, and happiness at being here with you. Isn't that enough?"

But this time, it's definitely different. I've been pretty depressed and sad ever since he died—who wouldn't be? And while I still miss him terribly, I am noticing that I just feel different. Don't get me wrong—I can still cry at the drop of a hat pin, but I find that it's happening less now than in the recent past. I know that emotional times are still ahead, like when I go back to Michigan in July for his memorial that his sisters want to hold. Because I know myself so well, I just know that I'll be crying a river before I even ring the doorbell at Sandie and Ray's house. I've never visited the Healys without Dennis, and while I am certainly looking forward to seeing all of them, I'm also dreading it because of the emotions involved. Rick, meet Catch-22. And of course there are still numerous things that are going to occur during the year that will be emotional—the anniversary date of his diagnosis (August 25, 2009—I'll always remember that day), our 31st anniversary on September 1st will probably be debilitating to me, my first Thanksgiving without him in 31 years, and of course December will be especially difficult, the 24th in particular—the first anniversary of his death. This past week has been somewhat of a difficult time, as it was one year ago that we were in Hawaii for the last time as a couple. It's hard to believe it's been a year already, but it has. And my happy memories of that trip are with me, but there's a sadness as well, knowing that we'll never go together again.

And there is one thing that I will never doubt—he would want me to live my life and be as happy as I can be—even though it will be without him (in the physical sense); he's always there in my thoughts. A lot of people have told me that eventually I'll find someone else, but what they don't understand is: I don't want to find anyone else. When you've already experienced a great love like we shared, I would not want to subject anyone to the comparisons I would ultimately make; I just know that I'd constantly compare whatever this person does with what Dennis did or didn't do, and I just don't want to do that. It would not be fair so it's probably just for the better to remain single and enjoy the company of my friends. I can live with that. I don't discount that it could happen, but it's just something that I don't really think about too much at the moment. I'd rather think about how I'm going to make Palm Springs my retirement location—now that's something I can concentrate on, even though it's most likely six to ten years down the road.