Odd how life can be very nice but the thought still crosses your mind that death would be fine as well.
Not suicide, just death. Oh for sure I'd like to choose the least painful manner, but dying holds no fear for me. I don't think I care. Of course my caring hasn't been challenged either.
For many months after Jim died I was terribly jealous of people listed in the obituaries that were around my age. I was especially jealous of dead women that hadn't made it to 55 years old.
Jealously doesn't occur anymore, but curiosity does. I can't fathom why I am still here. I don't do anything that is life changing. I don't vigorously defend my views. I don't think I make anyone's particular life better.
I'm your garden variety person ... just plugging on, not making a difference.
This isn't a pitiful feeling to me. It is what it is. I read, work, play, & enjoy life much of the time, but I still miss the bond that Jim and I had.
For some reason I have absolutely no interest in dating. I have never said I wouldn't get married again, but I have always said that it will be difficult to find something so fundamentally good as the partnership I had with Jim. Lightening rarely strikes the same place twice.
Notice I said rarely, not never.
