This evening I heard a whirr. A sense of something under my foot, except there wasn't anything there. There was, however, suspicion in my head. Dread enveloped my cat as she stood blaring at me, wonderous and still, seeming sensible and simultaneously senseless, without a look. It was as though her eyes cast shadows from the land of the dead, what I touched upon recently.

Yesterday I met a neighbour, an old woman who has always struck me as kind and sweet; she's reminded me of my mother's mother, whom I was near until she died a few years ago. The sorrow was like a wall. So I asked the woman, whose husband has been very ill for a while, how she was doing. "Horrible", she replied; "My husband died last week." And she looked as though there mere concept of smiling had vanquished from all and everywhere. She was beautiful. I couldn't fathom her loss. I can't. And she's told me they were together for 50 years. Her face was kind in understanding me and X. We stood there. I told her I was sorry. I added that I couldn't possibly touch upon what she felt, but told her that she is welcome to us, whenever and if she ever wants to come, regardless what. Regardless at what hour. I felt like that was the most non-giving sedative in the world. I wanted to console her. To tell her everything would be OK, but she's, she's probably more than twice my age and what can I know about consolation that she cannot get? Sure, being consoled is one thing. It's always different in some ways, always something that is beyond words and it's caring, reaching out always makes some difference, but I just...I felt like I was holding up a simple hulk when she'd ordered a wedding cake.

She's dealing with her loss. Her son, she said, is an angel.

As she walked away she seemed utterly brittle, but at the same time, like the strongest battleship I have ever seen. I just don't know. I really don't know. I don't know what it's like to lose the one person that you have shared 50 years with. I don't know. I don't care about knowing or not knowing about that. The only thing I know is that I don't ever want to learn about it. I want to shy away from it. It may just be, that the most egoistic thing I've ever felt is my desire to die before Love.