When my mourning has eased

When my mourning has eased, and I am back to myself,

perhaps I will take up a new hobby. Maybe I will finally

bicycle across America, as we dreamed for so many years.

Perhaps, when my energy returns, I will study math, and

Arabic, and the Word of God. I will downsize and eliminate

the superfluity thirty years accumulated in our home. Then,

when my mourning has run its course, and I have found my

own level once more, I will begin to think about

another companion. Not a replacement. Impossible! But a

friend with whom to share my own decline, as we discussed,

and you insisted on, before your own slow, painful

departure began.

But my mourning cannot end, nor will it ease. For, though

my mourning started many years ago, you are still with me. I

do not wish to hasten your departure. No! But my mourning

goes on, day after day. I mourn the time together

we can no longer spend. I miss the love we used to make.

I mourn for the future we dreamed of, with travel and

adventure that now will never come. I treasure the time we

have, when you have energy enough for a drive, or a meal, or

a movie. I savor our fleeting discussions of frustrations

and joys, mostly the former, as glimpses of your former

self slip through the meds, pain, and fog to show me the girl I love.

Mostly, however, I mourn.

I mourn because nothing I do can ease your misery or return

to me my best friend whom I love more than life itself.