Robert died three months ago today. Although this post has nothing directly to do with sex, so many of you have sent me compassionate emails that I'd like to share what I wrote to my online grief support group today:
Problem: I knew journaling would help, but my writing fingers felt paralyzed for the first two months -- did I write memories of Robert and talk to him in my journal, or did I write about ways I was trying to move on? The two seemed to cancel each other out.
Problem: Morning ritual was so special. After wonderful snuggling, Robert would say, "I'm going to make you coffee." He would get up, bring me the morning newspaper and coffee in bed. I would share something from the paper that might interest him, and sometimes he would just sit and watch me lovingly as I read, or he would go out to tend his garden. He painted a special bell (he was an artist ) for me to ring when I wanted a coffee refill. It was a glorious and loving start to the day, and without him, mornings felt so empty.
Problem: My world was Robert. I did much independently, don't get me wrong, but he was the one with whom I walked , danced, went out to dinner and films, talked about everything.