Tuesday, August 26, 2014

REFRACTORY MOURNING.

I lost my husband five years back. I was a by and large loyal wife. ministered to his needs, particularly towards his calamitous end. I cooked innumerable meals across the years, ironed his shirts again and again. Unsurprisingly i find that not only do i miss my husband but i actually love him even now.

I met him at a poetry reading. He was tall, dark and handsome, the typical paraphernalia of what would subsequently attract me irresistibly and conclude in marriage. His poetry is muscular and dense. Yet it has this simplicity, this ingenuousness, this belief in the sanctity and beauty of art.

When he was diagnosed with lung cancer i discovered the depth and intensity of my love. I was fearful that he was going away but i knew that in this interlude between life and death the time i spent with him as immeasurably precious and valuable . I do so miss him.

He had a propensity towards depression. Things would be going well and suddenly imperceptibly his mood would darken, his attitude towards life become more infused with gloom. Then he would lash out, rage and utter unutterable expletives. Moments like these i hated him.

He had an affair in the middle years of our marriage. A casual thing he disavowed utterly as inconsequential. I met her at a party. She was beautiful, charming and very intellectual. And i could see why he fell for her. I could have killed him for this apostasy.

I circumvented his artistic abstractions by retreating to my own shell. He'd become inattentive, distracted and angry if he were interrupted. He wouldn't even eat a proper meal, preferring indiscriminate and voracious snacking to the more rigorous discipline of a meal. He felt distant to me then

We watched titanic together. We were in our fifties. He was impressed by the movie though, being disdainful of emotional display, he kept this to himself. While watching the movie i glanced at him and saw him teared up and the sight of this vulnerability touched me profoundly.

So my feelings for him were tempestuous and sometimes contradictory. But as i run through our moments of togetherness it is the incandescent i choose to recall than the tenebrous. I've run through the light and dark of our momentous intersection but he's gone now. I need to move on.

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