The Transition of Pain/Giving the Prayer

I gave an invocation today at a Luncheon for the Volunteers of Community North Hospital, where Alison and I stayed for a long time. I wanted to do a better job than I did, but the microphone was not working at the time, so I had to project what I was saying. I wanted to tell everyone that it was my pleasure to be there, and that I had gratitude for each of their contributions, not to the hospital itself, but to those that find themselves there. I wanted to say that most people thank me for MY service, especially since 9-11, which was basically an emotional upheaval for the country. Emotional upheavals tend to show us our blessings, give us perspective. I tried to say that each family that finds themselves in the hospital has its own emotional upheaval, and that I'd had my own, and thank you.

Somehow I felt as if I were yelling at 70 elderly women instead of thanking them. I wished the mic was on.

The President of the hospital spoke about the volunteer services, and her stories of the comfort that those volunteers provide echoed my own, and brought back memories that have faded.

Memories like how Ali loved wheeling out onto the garden on the second floor and eating her lunch.

I'd also forgot about the football birthday cake that the chemo nurses scrounged up and sang to her on her 27Th.



All of that brings such pain.



But instead of being, what is the best way to put this, bitter? regretful? sorrowful? that Alison had such a rough time, instead of feeling deep pain and sympathy for her pain and loss, well, maybe on top of those same feelings, is popping up a great sadness, a great loneliness at the loss of the love of my life.

She's gone. Loving like that won't happen anymore.

I am filling up my life with things to do because when I stop I hurt.

I am so lonely without her. No one told me this would be loneliness training. I miss hugging her. I miss getting hugged back. I miss telling her things. I miss her telling me the same. I miss getting her water at bedtime.

It all makes me want to run away.

But to what?

So I guess I am here training. Becoming more proficient at living without. For the moment I am stuck. Living for the weekends...