Another day coming to a close. It wasn't hour after hour of horror like yesterday. I stayed calm mostly. I calmly considered my loss, and I calmly concluded that I'm in for a miserable rest of my life.

Before his death, I didn't believe this would happen. I remember telling my widowed sister that I expected to grieve as people normally do. I expected to feel relief at the freedom from caregiving, which had gotten so demanding around the clock. I looked forward to being able to pursue my many interests. How I could have been so wrong I'll never know.

I can act okay. I can present myself as somene who is coping competently. I've done that all my life. Behind the front I can be in serious trouble marked by desperate behavior that would worry anyone.

The relationship I was in was not the greatest. My s.o. had his issues. But I needed him. We were both pretty damaged. We needed each other. I still need him, but he's gone.

I guess, while he was alive and sick, it seemed all about him needing me. I vastly lost track of how much I needed him. That's really what kept us together for so long. I just couldn't do without him.

Before finding him, I had known severe loneliness. Everyone experiences loneliness, but I'ld been alone beyond what is part of most people's experience. Life was good to me on many fronts. There was a lot that came easy to me. But I didn't find a decent solution to being way too alone. I just kept getting further out in the wilderness of not having normal social ties. I could find other people, but not connect satisfactorily. My solutions to my problem just got me further and further out where I was increasingly alienated from the normal ties that bind. I criss-crossed the country on buses, lived in cheap hotels and delapidated rooming houses, changed jobs like others change socks, went to far places where I knew no one. I could observe human society, but couldn't find a way to be a normal participant in it . . . not for long anywhere I went. By age 30, I was researching suicide methods. I had decent parents, but they never seemed too concerned with my lifestyle, which now strikes me as pretty bizarre. They would tell people I was very independent and prone to doing things my own way. I was emotionally disturbed and living dangerously.

Then I met him. He wasn't any more normal than I was. He'ld spent the previous few years just as alienated from any semblance of normal connectedness as I had. We found warmth in each other's presence.

It was on again/off again. Somehow we lasted, mainly because I was unable to let go of him. Then he was unable to let go of me. Despite all kinds of turmoil in our relationship, we stayed more or less together. We formed a 2 person family. Everyone needs to belong to a family. In the end, he and I were enough of a family for each other.

I've lost him for good, and I'm back where I was at age 30. I didn't expect it was going to feel like this. I guess I lost sight of how important it was to be in that 2 person family. I still have relatives. But I'm not a member of their families. I can visit them . . . for awhile. That's not the same as belonging to a family.

A friend visited me today for a few hours. I was kind of glad when she left. She's another one who's been too alone for too long. And she's falling apart. I'm sorry for her. But she's starting to weary me. Like another friend who phoned me right after that visit. Friend #2 bent my ear for over half an hour relating the minutia of her life. Then I started to tell her about my recent struggles . . . but she had to go. Next time, I'm not even picking up the phone.

My little circle of acquaintences are pleased that I'm now more available to them, since I'm free of caregiving. I thought they'ld help sustain me through my grief. More wrong figuring on my part. They didn't find partners to form 2 person families with, but chose being alone. Their years of loveless living have left them as shells. My visitor today was obviously depressed. She's going to get more depressed, living as she does. Her visit sure didn't cheer me up.

I don't know what's going to happen to me. I was okay when I was in the 2 person family I had with my s.o. We had our ups and downs. Sometimes I was depressed, but not like this. We warmed each other. As long as he was there - no matter how sick - I was basically okay. The past few years were actually among the happier years of my life. Without him, I am not okay. I'm no more okay than I was before I met him. I have no hope of replacing him. My problem isn't about finding "meaning" in my life. My problem is the aloneness. If you have someone to share love and closeness with, all kinds of meaning tumbles out of life. With him gone from me, I'm not okay, and I see no way I'll be okay ever. The longing for what I've lost is too awful. I can't stop wanting what I can't get back. I'll never stop. I don't have enough of anything else to fall back on. Probably I didn't live life right. I never really knew how. All I knew was to hold on to him. Very little matters to me now, and that very little gets smaller every day.

Time now for the night pills that will let me escape until morning. Holiday weekend is over. At least I'm not crying right now.