I didn't reckon on being this  lonely.  Lonely as opposed to alone.  Being alone is a delightful state of being.  Yesterday morning I was alone.  Took the Skoda in for a service, walked across town and across the river to have a coffee at the Riverview.  I had a book, the river, nesting mynah birds and water dragons for company.  I was alone at a table on the verandah and perfectly happy.  I read a little, watched the river and river life for a little, read some more.  An enjoyable hour.

Picked up Richard to get the second car serviced.  We walked to the RSL (air conditioning a necessity) for lunch.  Watched Richard struggle with his meal, tried to help him to use the knife without interfering too much.  Couldn't read the book (rude), made small talk (lots of white cars, aren't there, how's the fish, let's get this napkin in your lap), watched traffic and felt lonely. 

I'm not the best conversationalist but there are so many things of interest to discuss yet there is no one to discuss them with.  I see the women on Thursdays, the Writer's Group for 2 hours on a Friday and Nick the guitar teacher every second Wednesday.  Sometimes I run into people while walking - or talk to the guys at the feed store or the women at the checkout - but that's just chitchat.  I miss the companionship of conversation. 

Am a bit chary about complaining as what do I have to complain about in the grand scheme of things when I have a roof, food, safety, interests, etc.  On the other hand, it wouldn't be honest to pretend everything is peachy and I am miss pollyanna perfectly happy.  I'm not. 

Being relieved and grateful for the hour or so when he takes a nap - I wish it was otherwise.  Being aggrieved and out of sorts when there is a long spate of essential micromanagment because his memory fails him and he's lost his bearings.  And the fight to remain patient and loving.   How difficult that can be and I often fail, hearing the impatience in my voice. 

Even small talk becomes more difficult as Parky robs him of his ability to speak much above a whisper and the dexterity toform words clearly.  Then of course dementia steals his vocabulary as well as his memory.

It's a shit deal for anyone.   Richard doesn't deserve this - and whingy me, neither do I.