My Sweetheart, David Nudel
February 16, 1942 - September 13, 2014
My beloved life partner David died on September 13, 2014 from prostate cancer that was treated with relative success for 7 years, and in remission for a while, but which finally, painfully, claimed his life.
I am in a huge transition, a scary and unwanted one, through grief and loneliness, tears and
sleeplessness, rage and fear. There is a huge ragged hole in my heart.
I am lucky to have beyond-wonderful support from family and friends, many good memories of our eight years together, and some new discoveries in my life that bring promising light to this seemingly endless tunnel. My questions are unanswerable. My emotional pain spikes and eases with little or no warning. I am physically weary, and often overwhelmed.
We were not warned by his oncologist that death was so close, and David's last weeks were a confusing journey from emergency room to emergency room, and finally to a hospice, after he realized that was the only place where his pain could be relieved. I write letters in my head to his doctor and to the hospice, detailing the huge, painful disconnects in communication we experienced in the last month of his life. Some day the words will spill out onto the page, and I will send the letters.
I took this photo one morning early in 2014, when I came downstairs to find David making oatmeal and shaking the raisin box like a moracca (sp?). This was a classic 'David' moment -- exuberant, improvisational, hilarious, unexpected and right on the mark. I can still 'hear' the perfect clickety sound of the raisins in the box, my shrieks of laughter, and I can feel his joy and exuberance.
David brought so much love and 'spice' to our life together.
In this winter of cold and grief, heartbreak and exhaustion, I have turned to beloved others for comfort and hope, and to my love of color and words for company.
With this post I begin to share the color and words of this part of my life's journey.
Thank you for being here.
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