A Caregiver's Pregnant Sadness

The more time I spend at home, the more I feel Romeo's absence. Or rather, the space in my life he occupied. The space is empty. And noticeably empty.

It feels to me like sadness. My sadness. It's my sadness for the new lifestyle Romeo and I must live. We are necessarily living separate lives -- Romeo in the nursing home, me at home. It would sadden any couple with the deep connection Romeo and I have.

Even so, I can sense a number of goals, activities, interests, things I want to do, rising to the surface, nearly ready to push away that sadness, nearly ready to show themselves once the sadness is completely out in the air. These elements that rise to the surface are the backbone of my new life. They represent the direction of my new life. They say, "Live, Juliet, live!"

Am I curious, excited, anxious to know what that direction is? Not at all. I trust that everything will be revealed to me in time, as it needs to, as it makes sense. The sadness will be gone, and it will be right.