I grieve being left alone with double the challenges. I grieve having to start over with a clean sheet of paper just when I feel too old to change. I grieve that I am not blessed and spared after all. I am not invulnerable and have not earned by dint of great virtues of hard work, reason, and good manners a life free of any serious loss. I grieve at the truth of knowing that shit happens, even to me.
Kings die of cancer.
Kings with continents become incontinent. I stub my toe on reminders, made up of lonely moments that would have been shared - dinner, bedtime, family gatherings, the holidays, and trips to the grocery store when I realize I don't need to look for that can or package of food our dead loved one savored so much. I am overwhelmed with the thought that I took our time together for granted or at least didn't make the absolute most of every moment. I grieve with a renewed appreciation of what more could have been. I dream of laughter at the beach from my new place alone on the desert.