The grief never leaves

I haven't written anything for one month. September 1 was our 32nd anniversary and the aftereffects of that occasion caught me by surprise. I was lethargic throughout the entire month. I did more crying in September than I have done in the past six months, and I'm wondering if this is some kind of "rebirth" of my grief. I already know that I will never get over his death; I learned that during the bit of therapy I did. Their mantra is "you learn to live with it." That's the part that's most difficult because I don't want to learn to live with it. I know I can't change it, but I'm stuck in this rut of being unable to really move on and try to find a new life with someone else. That still seems unfathomable to be. I've seen a few men over the past year, but I don't know if I can even call any of them "friends" as we're not in contact with each other—I guess that's your answer. I'm trying but my heart just isn't in it. I only try because I'm real lonely at home each night—just me and a room full of photos. And having friends in (who of course have to leave) just isn't the same as having him next to me. I still miss him so much that he still dominates conversations, as I'm always saying "our" or "we"—always still plural, just can't get to singular on a regular basis. I've caught myself many times and have corrected myself to singular, but now that I'm getting this down and out in the open, I can see that I have not really progressed all that much, and it's approaching two years this Christmas Eve, now only three months away.

And now a very old friend of mine, John Cochran from the Los Angeles Pool League, whom I have know since July 1985 suddenly passed away last week. I saw today that they are going to have a celebration of his life on December 2 so I will make sure to get down there. John was a unique character; both Dennis and I loved his big smile every time you walked into his presence. He will be missed but maybe he and Dennis can get together for a game of pool.