Catching Up

As I begin this blog it has been just over three months since my partner died, which was 18 months after he was diagnosed with incurable cancer. We had 18 months to prepare for this situation and I'm lucky in that, during those months, I had many to call on for help. But just how can you prepare for a life without the most important person you know, the person you cherish above all else, and whom you've loved since the first day you get?

During those 18 months we visited many doctors, hospitals, clinics, and more. We went into it prepared with all the legal paperwork any gay couple would need (a will, power of attorney, advanced directive). Happily, there was hardly ever a need to show any of them, other than at the time of a first visit. Doctors, physician assistants, nurses, techs, and others treated us just as they would any heterosexual couple. Was I crazy to expect less? Perhaps I was just unaware of how much the world had changed and how accepting many people, at least where I live, had become.

Acceptance of gays and gay couples and the law, however, are two different things, as I'll explain in other posts.

As of today I've made some progress in settling my late partners estate, but there is so much left to be done. And while juggling all of these things I'm also trying to manage the business we started in 1996. I find myself wondering if I want to continue running a business and whether I can run it, without him.

We thought we were very prepared for his death, but when you are dealing with a federal pension and life insurance companies and family members he wasn't close to, the contents of a will often just do not matter. I'm learning that the hard way, and why I hope other couples will recognize that they, too, may be less prepared than they could and should be.

But there are other reasons for feeling overwhelmed, and they are mostly personal. After the memorial service and the initial flood of call, emails, letters, and flowers, your friends and family members have to resume their own lives. I've gone from having more than a dozen messages on the machine to none most days. Except for the closest of family and friends, there are few emails. This is not a complaint. It's normal, to be expected, and perfectly understandable. They've got lives and they've got to get back to them just as I've got to. But still, it sucks.

Silence is unbearable to me. The TV, which my partner disliked and wanted so often for me to turn off, is necessary background noise. Music usually doesn't do it, but I'm trying to listen more to the many CDs he bought. Trying and often failing.

Coming home is the worst for me. You open the door to a dark, silent, empty home. Any mess you left is right there in your face (I meant to leave the place clean but I just don't get as much done in a day as I used to). It's summer here now, so the apartment is also hot because I've turned up the thermostat. I'm terribly afraid I won't have enough money in my old age, now that I must survive off of my own income, rather than my salary and his pension. He was only 60. You don't expect to do without that second salary when your partner or spouse is only 60.

We owned two condos, but I cannot afford to leave the other vacant. The condo fees, taxes, and utilities wold add up, so I've got to rent it. There is furniture to sell, carpeting to replace, cleaning that must be done. I've got to transfer the title and condo documents into my name and change the bank account from which I'll pay the condo fee. These and other details are not done with just one phone call or letter or email. You get voice mail, play phone tag, learn more about county government than you want to, but it's all required stuff.

I've also got to go through the storage bin for the second condo, which means going through several boxes of papers and stuff he brought here when his mother died--and never did anything with them (and that is a complaint). It's now up to me to decide whether to keep them, send them to his family members, or make another trip to Goodwill. (Speaking of Goodwill, the best advice I've had, and will pass along, is to get rid of the clothes quickly, because waiting only makes it harder. But I had to keep a couple of shirts. I just couldn't get rid of everything.)

With every decision I am erasing part of his memory, and that's painful, if sometimes necessary. I'm trying to find some middle ground in this process.

So far I've muddled through my partner's illness and the months since his death without seeing a therapist (despite the urging of several friends and relatives). Being lucky enough to be able to talk about him, and us, with so many people, I haven't found it necessary. But it's not been enough, and that's why I'm starting this blog. I want a journal about the process, a place to vent on those days when no one calls or emails, an opportunity to help others who may find themselves in the same situation.

I'm off to the storage bin. Maybe I can get through at least one or two boxes this weekend.