Made Thursday morning, 29 September 2016 -- what would have been Tal's 90th birthday.
Today, two weeks ago, Tal greeted his last morning. The last one in 90 years, minus a mere 12 days. We had known each other some 28 years, four months. We had been married 26 years, 30 days. Mornings, my mornings, will never be the same. The keeping count somehow helps.
Morning by morning I get up and greet not only the new light but an empty house. I walk the daily 10,000 steps, go through my exercise routine, make myself eat, tend the paperwork lapping at my little shore, convince myself to run essential errands. Morning by morning the world goes on. Morning by morning a bit of myself does, too -- goes on. But, I have to admit wondering what the point is. Since an absolutely essential part of my life is gone.
But, morning by morning something invites me to be grateful for Tal, for the life we shared, for the grief his absence is visiting on me. I am strangely glad for the profound physical sadness that very nearly, and repeatedly, knocks me off my feet. The discomfort is meaningful. Remembering is dear.
Morning by morning. Morning by morning I am sad.
Morning by morning I get up and greet not only the new light but an empty house. I walk the daily 10,000 steps, go through my exercise routine, make myself eat, tend the paperwork lapping at my little shore, convince myself to run essential errands. Morning by morning the world goes on. Morning by morning a bit of myself does, too -- goes on. But, I have to admit wondering what the point is. Since an absolutely essential part of my life is gone.
But, morning by morning something invites me to be grateful for Tal, for the life we shared, for the grief his absence is visiting on me. I am strangely glad for the profound physical sadness that very nearly, and repeatedly, knocks me off my feet. The discomfort is meaningful. Remembering is dear.
Morning by morning. Morning by morning I am sad.
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