In an echo of Kylie Minogue’s seminal hit, I did, today, feel Lucky. In Love.
(And in life, actually, but Minogue clearly didn’t feel inclined to go that far.)
The feeling of good fortune started when I was walking the dog last night. I passed a row of bungalows for the elderly and in one of the windows sat an old man, just staring out. I smiled and he smiled back.
I looked into the room where he was sitting and saw he was alone. There was no TV lighting up the corner, no cat curled on the windowsill.
It made me consider the gut-wrenching loneliness I feel on a daily basis since M has died. And it is gut-wrenching – a physical sensation of someone ripping out my guts. (And I should know – I had a Caesarean).
At least, I thought, I’m going back the loving arms of my daughter and the enthusiastic leg-humping of my dog. I am physically well and able to visit friends. I have enough money in my pocket for a bottle of wine when I need one. (Essential, according to advice from my grandpa).
I wondered about the old man. Clearly I could have been jumping to conclusions – he might well be the Peter Stringfellow of the village party scene, just waiting for his homies to turn up. But more than likely, he wouldn’t see another face until the postman arrived tomorrow afternoon.
Today, I feel lucky to have met M, and privileged that He chose me to spend His short life with. I feel blessed that I experienced love like that – tender, respectful, intense, to the exclusion of all others.
We had just ten years, and hell, I feel cheated and enraged at it being so savagely cut short. But some people don’t have that in a lifetime.
I guess you’ve got to count your blessings while you can.