My nest is empty, all but one adult son with Asperger’s who dwells down below (in the basement apartment). So yeah, I’m pretty much alone most of the time. It’s funny, when Rob became a manager last year he was gone 60 hours a week, and I hated it at first. Being alone so often. Then Covid came, his last day at work was March 20th, we spent every day together until he left to visit his mom that “fateful” week.
Now I really know what alone is, and it is uncomfortable, it is lonely, it is sad. It’s not that I don’t have anyone in my life, I have my adult children and my grandchildren. I see the baby at least a few times a week, oh yes, and her mother… my daughter. But those aren’t the times I’m thinking of, even though they do present their own challenges, no I’m talking about moments like right now… in the middle of the day when I’m sitting here at my desk, the ceiling fan humming in the background. When I’m getting ready to go to bed, and there’s no one to hug or kiss goodnight. Those moments, when I cannot lean on anyone else. I am alone.
It is getting easier. My joy is returning. I know that I will be okay.