Ch.192 I Have a Pretty Good Life

Ch.192 I Have a Pretty Good Life

March 2023

          I awakened yesterday, said good morning to Pat as usual, and began contemplating the day. Morning: drinking tea and reading my latest novel in bed; sharing breakfast with Levi; showering; checking emails. Afternoon: Walking Levi; visiting Lakota at his senior horse paddock if the weather allows; texting or phoning one or two friends; lunch with my son Joshua. Evening: Finishing a pork loin I cooked two days ago; baking brownies; reading the newspaper and trying to solve the word puzzles; watching the Milwaukee Bucks basketball team (currently winners of 19 of their last 21 games). Maybe drawing, either another colored pencil lesson or on my own. Maybe writing in my blog if the spirit so moves me (obviously it did because that’s what I’m doing now). Maybe exercising on my new stationary bicycle. No face-to-face visit with a friend today, but only because Richard isn’t feeling well. Certainly, there will be several “stop what I’m doing and sigh moments” as I experience brief waves of sadness from missing Pat.

          It’s been over 8 months since Pat died July 1, 2022. In retrospect I think much of this time has been spent in missing Pat and missing the life we had together. Eight months have passed in which my reality has been infiltrated by magical thinking: somehow, I can get Pat back or at least replace her with another “almost” Pat. That way I could keep living just like I had lived before she passed.

          Thankfully, magical thinking hasn’t completely kept me from facing reality. I’ve become far more active socially than ever before, taking the initiative to fill my time with friends, family, pets, drawing, volunteering, and activities. Additionally, I’m finding myself less anxious about spending time alone. A few days ago, I realized I had nothing at all on my schedule. I remembered to say to myself that I had time in my hands, not on my hands, and relaxed.

          I have a pretty good life. I know I can’t get Pat back. Nor can I replace her with a clone. My life must go forward with only her memory. I am transitioning toward a new life, a good enough life, for which I am grateful.