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Sunday, September 5, 2010
I still feel very married to Clint, and I think I’ll be this way for a long time. Friends have suggested that I ask someone out. One friend actually recommended that I try an on-line dating service, the idea of which gives me a stomach ache.
I don't want to date anyone. I still want Clint. The idea of kissing lips other than his makes me shudder. His kisses were velvet, his lips soft and gentle, his tongue silken and giving, even when he was probing my mouth with it. I will never again be kissed like he did.
When we made love, his embrace was tender, sensuous and expecting. He was not a bear hug kind of man, though he was a strong lover. He always thought of my pleasure and ways to give it to me. He was never demanding in bed, because there was no need. The way he played my body brought to me great desire to please him. And so it was with this man, my man, my great love.
He was relaxed and easy to be with, a calming and empowering force in my life. It was only after he died that I came to know that I had drawn so much of my emotional strength and endurance from him. He was, indeed, my rock. (Oh, God, did I just use a worn out cliché)?
My self-confidence is coming back, but it is a slow process. I have had success at work in spite of a boss who is doing everything she can to see that I fail. The challenge has kept me sharp and determined. I love my work, but I need structure in my life, and Hospice home care is far from organized. By its very nature, it is fraught with making, then changing, appointments. There are emergencies during the day that throw off the most carefully planned timetable. I need a schedule, and I will have one when our inpatient facility opens. At that time, my job description will change, and I will work three 12-hour days a week, all in the same place. No more driving from house to house. And I’ll have a new boss, a woman I greatly admire for her knowledge and her sense of fairness. Meanwhile, I am grateful to be working. The money is good, and I have been working 40+ hour weeks, though I was hired to do part time outpatient work.
If Clint were here, I would be okay, knowing I could leave my job and come home to him, even if he were sick. I still miss him in an intense way that is hard to describe but is much like an aching hole in my core where he used to live. I’ve been weeping lately, more than usual - while driving, while writing (like now), while feeing the dogs....................
Honey and Belle are the family I come home to, and I thank God with all my heart that they are here. As I type, they are both on the bed with me, fast asleep, their presence a great comfort to me.