I’d burned through my audio book and needed more. I tell you, this is the way to read. No reading. Just listening.
Found two great audio books and then spent another hour looking. Ended up buying a serial killer whisperer book. I mean, how cool is that title?
But driving back, I had an attack of loneliness. It happens. Today, when I saw the roadrunner, there wasn’t anyone to turn to and say, hey, look, a road runner! On the long drives, there wasn’t anyone to talk to about whatever, life, the universe, the nature of man, Breaking Bad, the HUGE plates of food they serve down here, story ideas…
It’s been great that people have responded to my posts, it makes it a little less lonely but the truth is, I still miss Margot a lot. Every day.
I’ve adapted to eating alone, I bring a book or my computer. I’ve adapted to seeing a movie alone. I’ve adapted to sleeping alone, though, for some reason, when I get up in the middle of the night, I still do so very quietly so as not to wake anyone.
But travelling alone, that’s something that’s not so easy. If I keep busy, if I keep my mind occupied, it’s doable but I can’t keep racing around and sooner or later, while having a coffee or lying in bed or looking out at a vista, it catches up with me.
It’s an ache that starts in the back of my eyes. I’m used to that ache now. Sometimes it brings tears. Sometimes just a huge hollowness in my chest, a small, black hole.
After 2 ½ years, you’d think the pain might go away. But maybe it shouldn’t. I mean, Margot was my everything for 30 years. Losing her was, without a doubt, the hardest thing in my life and that pain, oh boy, it always seems to be lurking there, just behind my eyes, deep in my heart, my bones, my soul. Maybe I need to feel this pain on some level. Maybe it’s what love is about.
She always said that the tragedy of death was not found in the person who died but in those who remained behind. She was talking about how to make my writing better, how to make death of a character matter but it’s a truth I think. One I would have rather never really discovered for myself.
Time for bed, I think.
Tomorrow is another day. Lancaster.