This week, I found out my new husband has cancer. I suppose you would think he had it coming for getting involved with me, or maybe you would even suggest that I somehow caused it. One thing I know for sure, you wouldn’t feel sorry for him.  And you would NEVER feel sorry for me.

The past week has thrown me into a new space.  I am once again thinking about a future where I might be alone. After being with you for about two years, I knew you were not going to be in my future, and as I’ve told you before, I fantasized what it would be like to buy and decorate my own house, cook my own food, manage my own finances, and maybe, for the first time ever, find someone that I could love without any reservations.  (Note to self: if I knew then what I know now, every person in their 50s will have reservations.) Strangely, I WANTED that future alone.  And then when you died, I suddenly had it. And I found I really needed that quiet, that solitude, that ability to be 100% present with my own being.

Then came my husband. He filled a space that I didn’t realize I needed.  I DO need someone in my life to love me.  To take care of me. To spend time with me. To gently push me out of my comfort zone. To wake up next to. To grow old with. I am terrified that something will happen to him and I will be back to being alone.  Only this time, not by my choice. 

He’s handling it better than you would have.  I don’t know why I compare the two of you, but that seems to be an ongoing pattern of thought that has existed since the day you died.  I try to picture you going through this and all I can think of is that you would have enjoyed the attention it brought you.  And I know that deep down inside, I would feel a little bit happy…happy that this could be a more natural, yet tragic, end to your life and our relationship.