An explanation, of sorts

Two and a half years ago The Man was diagnosed with cancer. When I asked him if I could blog about it, he asked me not to.

I have honoured that request, and will continue to do so. I will not write about his illness. When I write about him, I will write about the happy, strong times, which is what he wanted me to remember.

He died last September.

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A few years ago he and I were sitting here in our room, both working at our computers, and we were silent for a very long time, concentrating on our different tasks. In a pause, while I was thinking about whatever it was I was doing, I found myself staring at him and feeling ridiculously comfortable and happy. I spoke without thinking.

"I love being with you," I told him. "It's just like being alone."

As soon as I said it I wished I had thought before speaking. It sounded wrong, and could have been taken the wrong way. But I needn't have worried. He smiled. He understood exactly what I meant.

But we were both wrong. Being alone is not the same. i am regaining my equilibrium now, but it is taking time.

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This is the hardest blog post I have ever written.

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I will stop writing on this blog now, although I will keep it open, at least for now. (How else can I remember my life if I don't have written records? I have a rubbish memory!) But at some point – soon – I will start another one for this new stage in my life. I will let you know when I do, and I intend it to be soon. He made me promise to keep writing. It was the only thing he he wanted me to promise, in the end. He thought it was important. I know it made him happy. He liked to read it.

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In the meantime, do buy Quakebook. Even if you are not interested in reading it, think of it as a small donation that means a lot, for all the people who lost the people and places they loved in the earthquake and tsunami, and who are still struggling to deal with their loss. They lost a lot more than I did. They lost loved ones and homes and jobs and neighborhoods and towns. They are still suffering terribly. They are not in the media so much now, but that doesn't mean they are not still there, still suffering. They do not want to be victims. They want to have ordinary lives. It will take them a long time, but you can help them to get there.

We had time to say goodbye. They did not. I cannot imagine the pain of that.

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That's all for now. I'm not sure if it's a threat or a promise, but I will be back soon!