At Ease

Despite the fact that I almost erupted into tears here at my desk after accessing the website from the synagogue I worked at in Los Angeles, not a single tear has run down my cheek since I last wrote. Los Angeles is a rough spot. I can't believe I lived there for two years and that Chris was alive and that we did things together and, and, and...

I am experiencing a lovely, lovely time with Marc. The time speeds by when we are together. Seven hours passed in a flash on Sunday. We shopped, dined, enjoyed Boston’s Back Bay area and talked about anything and everything.

I told him that I am not bothered, at all, talking about Chris but said he had to tell me if it bothered him to hear about Chris. The subject of my deceased husband did not bother him. He said my situation is unique, in that he is the man coming in and that it’s strange that the person who died was my husband.

I shared with him that there are a few people in my life who feel as though they have the right to bestow censorship upon me. “Don’t talk about Chris. Don’t talk about your husband. Don’t talk about your grief.” To those people, I say “It didn’t happen to you. It happened to me and Chris. I will talk about whatever I choose to talk about and any man who cannot handle conversations about reality is not a strong enough or dignified enough person to share my time. Death is a part of life. Truth is a part of love.

I elaborated to Marc that if one of my girlfriends had died, nobody would be telling me not to talk about her. Chris was my best friend. “Husband” is just a title.

Marc’s expression was one of thoughtful consideration and with a smile, he replied, “That’s why you married him. You wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t your best friend.”

Where did he come from? He embodies kindness, patience, optimism, good humor and brilliance. Marc is not without his own grief, having lost his bother, sister and father. He understands that what I feel is normal.

How I feel about my loss isn’t of much consequence, since I cannot stop my heart from soaring whenever we’re together. I still have a ways to go before I can truly allow myself to fall in love, but he makes me happy. He’s a conversationalist, he’s pro time-alone, anti joined-at-the-hip, expressive and empathic and he sets me at ease.

I have only two more days to wait until I can sit safely enveloped within the embrace of Clay’s office and relay to him my reflections of the past two weeks.

How dare he take a vacation?