Topic: My darling, Anthony, it's been three years since you left me.......
Three years without you - how can that be possible? What have I done, and what have I become? Sometimes these days it feels that our life together was a dream. The memory of being loved and of loving someone so much, of trusting someone so completely, the companionship, the laughter, the caring for each other.....it all seems so far away now - another time, another world and a happy one.
I can't really explain what life without you is like. It is becoming harder and harder to express myself. I keep my feelings to myself, I tell people I'm ok, I keep busy and seem pretty normal, I think.
But, actually, the void you have left in my life is as huge as ever and, as the memories of our happy life become increasingly remote, so the things that fill my life are largely mundane and meaningless.
I try to avoid thinking of what might have been and of how we now should be enjoying that longed for retirement together. Instead I still focus on next steps, which are generally uninteresting and unimportant. I try not to think about the future and dread the lonely old age that may lie ahead.
And so to my next steps - a month in Tuscany soaking in the beautiful sadness that for me now fills the landscape around our house. And then? Another autumn, our birthdays, Christmas, another cold hard winter. And what then? More of the same.
It's very hard to find meaning in all of this without you, darling. I know that the answer lies in the grander scheme of things and, although I still struggle to find a perspective, I will try, in your memory, to begin to make a more significant contribution to society than I do at present. For all you have given me during our years together, you deserve that from me.
What a wonderful man you were and how I miss you.
With all my love as always,
Here is the poem that closely reflects my feelings this year:
When I too long have looked upon your face,
Wherein for me a brightness unobscured
Save by the mists of brightness has its place,
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight
From having looked too long upon the sun.
Then is my daily life a narrow room
In which a little while, uncertainly,
Surrounded by impenetrable gloom,
Among familiar things grown strange to me
Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark,
Till I become accustomed to the dark.
Edna St Vincent Millay