The hardened life.

Family hug, 1996

A sad declaration, written in my journal when I was just sick and tired of being sad and tired.

Β  I have been forced to stand on my own, to define and empower myself as a single unit rather than part of a pair. I have had to take responsibility for things I could get away with not doing, have had to be much more practical and unsentimental about things. Sentimentality is too powerful an emotion to bear now.

The life I define for myself is leaner, stripped down, less indulgent. Like a hard mattress, a rough blanket, a single pillow. In some ways, many actually, this is good for me. I feel more confident, more in control of the edges of my life, less anxious about the next shoe dropping. But my life is a lot less rich and beautiful. My harder, rational side is unmitigated by the gentle flirtations of love. And, while my heart is still here, still beats, is still capable of love, I fear it is also smaller and harder and less romantic.

Patti’s death has changed me forever. Just as Patti’s life did.

This fear has passed, but the memory lingers on.