I just finished folding some laundry and while doing so, unexpectedly got very teary-eyed. Dennis and I had many tee shirts that had identical designs because most of our tee shirts came from the pool league we've played in for many years. One tee shirt in particular shows the famous American Gothic painting (farmer holding pitchfork while dour-looking farm wife stares up at him) except the pitchfork has been replaced by a pool cue. Bernie King, who designed the tee shirt to coincide with the 50th West Coast Challenge pool tournament, always declared that Dennis and I had posed for the "photo" he used as his inspiration. That humorous comment has stuck around for years and while I was folding that tee shirt today, I thought of its origin and before you knew it, I had tears in my eyes. The tears caught me by surprise as I was under the impression that minor thoughts like that would no longer affect me in this manner. Guess I don't know as much as I thought I did, huh? It does prove to me that my grief is deeper than I realized and I shouldn't be surprised that something like this still happens, fourteen months or so after his death.
Living by myself after thirty plus years of having a daily companion is more difficult than I could have ever imagined. The good part of it, of course, is the fact that I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. But that still means I'm doing it by myself instead of with someone...namely Dennis. I'll admit I still struggle daily. I just miss him so much, it's not easy to put into words. I do realize I have come to a major turning point in my new life—how do I move on in a meaningful way? What little interaction I've had with other guys on the gay chat websites has led me to believe that my age is going to be a factor in whether or not I will ever meet someone that I may or may not have a relationship with, because there definitely seems to be an age-phobia out there. I guess I'll just throw it out to the universe and see what she has in store for me.
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