I lie in bed looking at the curtains. 'I was so proud of myself when I found them,' I think, 'And he was so proud of me too.' I do a lot of this — thinking of the way things used to be. It shocks me that already I see our marriage as past, over. Which it is, of course. All that interaction, all those years, all that love — a phase of life that is completed, finished. 'But it was so recent,' I think, in useless protest.
Scarier is the thought that time will go on, and it will get more and more in the past.
I have aches and pains, more than I had when he was alive, or so it seems. Maybe I just didn't have time to pay attention to them then ... and of course, he would always give me Reiki. I wonder if I am going to decline quite quickly into being a decrepit little old lady.
Oh, please God, not! And I realise it's largely up to me. I'm even more sedentary now. I need to move the body more!
Well, I am gradually incorporating new routines into my life. That shall have to be one of them.