Life marches, ambles, zig zags, hurtles on with no built in observation decks to stop and look back on where I've been.  Because I don't make the time to digest what has happened, it continues to affect me even though I might not be aware of it.

For instance, had to call the Tax Office to find out my tax number.  Everything has been in Richard's name.  I was 'spouse' and my tax number wasn't recorded, although I had one from when I was still working.  Just had no idea where to look for it.  Anyway, explaining to the woman on the phone why I couldn't find my number.  Said my husband was in care...and promptly burst into tears.  Hadn't been sad or depressed.  It just came out of nowhere.  Then again this morning.  A call from someone at Heritage to fine tune caring factors, all very businesslike - and again, I choked up and couldn't speak.  

I may think the worst is over with, that the grieving is just background noise but suspect emotions are not that tidily disposed of.  It isn't a case of, well that's finished, on to the next thing!  It may never be 'finished'.  

Yet a part of me looks forward, quite shamelessly.  Was dropping off more of Richard's clothes to the Hospice Shop.  A tall man was helping his mother down the sidewalk.  She was tiny, head down watching where she put her feet.  He had a hand under her elbow, guiding and reassuring her at the same time.  

He was beautiful.  My age?  Nicely proportioned, nicely but not pretentiously dressed.  Kind kind face.  We smiled at one another over the top of her head, just a normal smile of I see how nice you are to your mum and gee isn't it a nice day?  After that I didn't dare look at him again.  He was too attractive and I didn't want to be attracted so I crossed the street without a backward glance.  But his image stayed with me.  That broad chest just begging to have my head resting against it.  God.  

I suppose it's only because although I'm not lonely part of me resents being thrust into the world all on my lonesome.  Even though I've been the carer for years, Richard was here, a shadow of my love and protector but still present.   Now it's me and the cats.  

So I see this gorgeous male, and it was the maleness of him that was so riveting - and even though he's probably got a wife and kids and grandkids and all the accoutrements of a long life well lived, I hanker.

And cringe.