How the loss of someone you have loved for sixty years alters your life totally is almost beyond comprehension. You can no longer bear to watch programmes on television you both enjoyed, the food you once hankered for becomes only a means for necessary nourishment rather than a gourmet culinary addiction and the self-inflicted loneliness clouds the atmosphere of your existence.
Your impatience multiplies and you tend to feel a vacuum in your life that you have never felt before, as if the inner peace you once cherished has flown away seeking more meaningful avenues.
You try to stabilise the mode of your wellbeing by engrossing yourself at work and you wait for a heavenly benevolence in some form or another which you fail to identify. Worldly accomplishments lose their attraction and what’s left for you to achieve is lacking definition.
Darkness sets in, yet you refuse to acknowledge it. You still find hope that with the passage of time you will overcome this hiatus of grief and instability that has invaded your being, and that the love you once had will remain with you forever and save you from self-destruction.