I can't help but feel the emptiness that comes with being alone in a time where you don't really want to be alone. I fill my days up with friends and family, riding my horse, running around, lunches here, happy hour there, and then when I have been out there and done that, home and being alone sounds nice. Or at least nice enough. But now, I am not out and about. I am home, on the couch, watching way too much TV. I rattle around from room to room, a hanky here, a cup of tea there. There is no one here to keep me company. The days are long and I try and stay up late enough so that I am not waking up at 2 a.m. I am bored, and I am never bored. And I am lonely too.
I can't help but think back to Kenny, and how he felt when his body was giving out. Was he bored, and could I have done more? His days must have been long too, and I know he watched TV much more than he ever normally would. I remember setting him up, so that he could watch TV while I slipped out to run to the store, the bank, or wherever. I had my escape. I could get out, shake up my day a little. I wish I could go back and redo some things. But I can't. And I wonder if he got lonely too.
Kenny knew how to stay busy though. He was not afraid of the bus that would take him to town and from there he would wheel himself to the Pacheco Club where he would have lunch with the boys. Sometimes, while he was in town, he would go get his haircut, or better yet, have his feet massaged. Or he would leave our house in his wheelchair and tootle on over to Bernardus, a lovely resort about a half mile from our house and have lunch with friends every Friday. Yes...just thinking about it, I think Kenny was not bored. Not much anyway. He was always ready to do something and his condition did not hinder. The night before he died we went to a party and he ate lasagna and drank a margarita. He was a trooper....and no, I really don't think he was bored. Or lonely. I think he was truly what he always said he was.....happy. And that makes me happy too.