The Empty Space
The Reality of Grief – The Empty Space
Today, I sat in the living room I’ve avoided for so long since Gill left us. This was our space—where we used to sit and chat in the evenings, watch TV, and play with the grandkids. Since he’s been gone, the room has felt desolate, and I haven’t been able to sit there for more than 30 minutes without breaking down.
I sat on my recliner, which had become my comfort place last year as I healed from spinal surgery, and looked at the empty spot on the couch where he used to sit. I tried to imagine Gill there and even started asking questions, hoping for a miracle—that he would suddenly show up and all of this would just be a bad dream. But reality hit within seconds when there was no response. The space on the couch was empty. He was really gone. The empty space was going to remain empty.
Earlier today, someone asked me, “You’re 63 and single…what are you going to do for companionship?” I thought for a moment before responding:
“I got married at 24 with a vision of a perfect marriage, but what I got was four years and seven months of disaster, followed by the relief of freedom from that experience. I stayed single and was very content raising my two lovely daughters—until I met my best friend. My marriage to Gill never felt like a typical marriage. We were best buddies. We argued, we laughed, we cried. We built Genius Kids, cared for our parents, and tackled life together. There was never a question of traditional roles; it was always about partnership. He was intellectually brilliant, kind, loving, honest, and endearing. And now, he’s gone. How could anyone compare to that kind of friendship or relationship? Who could possibly even fit in those shoes? The intellect level was intense and anyone he met, he impacted with his conversations and thought process.
After 27 years with a best friend who encouraged me to become the woman who I am today and taught me to enjoy and value my own company, I’m not seeking companionship. I had the best, and now I have our kids and grandkids to share the rest of my life with.”
I replayed that conversation in my head today, wiped the tears from my face, and told myself, “No more moping. No more thinking about empty spaces. It’s time to pull myself together and get on with what I need to do just as he would have wanted me to.”
