The truth of it is, I cannot offer advice on how to talk to anyone other than myself. There are so many generalized grief articles out there. The bottom line is, we are all different, and want different things in terms of support. 

Ive always had an amazing family and friend support system. Im very blessed. When I recently went to the psychiatrist, he told me that I am set up to eventually have a pretty amazing life again. It's hard to believe now, but I am fully aware of the many blessings of family, friends, job, even the kindness of strangers that I have always enjoyed. 
Anyway, here are my suggestions for dealing with me, suggestions or maybe explanations. 

1) Just tell me you are sorry for what I am going through. Dont beat yourself up about a huge, life-changing speech. Its not only unnecessary, I don't need or want it.
 
2) If you say something dumb, forgive yourself. I have chosen to think that at least during this point in my life, everybody means well. It's all ok. We all feel awkward. I know it's meant with love. 

3) Yes, you can talk about him. Share stories, ask me about mine. Nothing I love to talk or hear about more. Seriously. It makes me feel closer to him. And God, do I ever miss him. 
 
4) No, hearing about the death of your loved one doesnt help me. It only makes me sadder.
 
5) Yes, offer to come visit or do something. There is a very odd list of things that I am up for right now because my head is not on straight. Don't be offended if I can't do your thing. DO suggest it. It might be just what I need!! And also:Ask me what I CAN do.  Because I do want to see you. 

6) Yes, for once in my life I can and will accept help. So If you are offering help with something, i will probably take you up on it. 

7) I love all of you. 

I wake up every morning happy. It takes me a few seconds to remember that you are gone and that you are never coming back.
I cry.
I sometimes ask God why.
I talk to you up in heaven like you are here and ask you to come back. 
 I get dressed. I take KD Puppy out. Thank God for her. 
Then I go to work, or I go and do whatever plans Ive made, trying to hold myself together the best that I can.
I have pockets of a few minutes each day where its just normal, not grieving me. 
The rest of the day, I spend thinking about how you would have loved this little meal, this little conversation. How even if we were not together, which was rare, I would have enjoyed telling you about it later.
I hate being alone.
I hate being with other people.
I hate being away from home.
I hate being home. 
Each day I hope that tomorrow wont be quite as bad.
I go to bed early, hoping that I can conjure you up in sleep. I hug my pillows and blankets like I used to hug you all night. 
I fall asleep from exhaustion. 
​I wake up every morning happy, It takes me a few seconds to remember that you are gone and that you are never coming back.  

The first time during our relationship that I was sick, I was sick to my stomach. Peter rubbed my back the whole time, sensing that it was extra-horrible for me. (It was , I had a number of years fighting stomach issues) I mean, he rubbed my back while I was puking. And then he brushed my hair to calm me. And then he rubbed my back when I finally laid down to let me know he was there. One of the most loving and special moments I have ever experienced. 
If at any time this becomes TMI, just scroll by. At this point, Im writing for Peter and for myself. If it makes you smile, keep reading stuff that I write. If not, I get it. 

Peter was visiting. He still lived in Binghamton. We were in my house. The house that I was in throughout my marriage that had ended a while back. It was a happy house, but it had become a sad house. There is no other way to really explain it. 
At that time I was hoping to still be able to afford the house and make it a happy place again. 
So, prior to Peter's visit I had gotten this idea about stringing some solar lights in the backyard. I loved sitting out back, and thought that would be a lovely touch out there. We went to the store together, picking out a couple of beautiful lights that looked like flowers, and then some others to string around the deck and the bushes. It was fun shopping with him. He had a way of making everything magical. In the beginning, I used to think that he was just trying trying to entertain me to ease my broken heart. I later learned, no, that's just Peter. 
Anyway, we picked up a few things, and he planned to put these things up while I was at work on that Saturday. I came home to find :
He had my favorite music playing.
He had a beautiful table set.
He had my favorite wine chilling. 
A delicious dinner in the oven. 
And then. He brought me outside, first putting his hands over my eyes. He removed his hands to show me the most beautiful backyard I had ever seen.My entire backyard was alive with lights. Lights around the trees, bushes. He put up a candle chandelier that I had in storage, hung it from a big tree and had candles burning from it. He had gone back and bought out the store in wrapping lights, and picked up more flower lights that fit in with the scheme we had planned. 
This will always be one of the most special memories and one of the most romantic nights of my life. 

It was November of 2014 when Peter and I moved in to Chateau PM, our happy, beautiful lofty little place in the City of Tonawanda. It was one of the coldest winters in recorded history, but we didn't mind that so much. 
We carefully shopped for and curated our little place with items old and new, thrift and antique shopping, and filling in with eclectic little finds along the way. Artwork, furniture, or measuring cups, we picked it our together and found its place in our little home. 
We made great warm and beautiful dinners together. Well, mostly he cooked, and I set a beautiful table, picked the music, and cleaned up. We both felt like we won the lottery as we talked for hours on end about everything and nothing, many times late in to the night. 
On the snowiest nights we would just start walking and see what groovy little places we would find in our charming little neighborhood. Even in the winter, the City Of Tonawanda has some amazing scenic water views. It also has an eclectic mix of restaurants, shops, and lots of fun to be discovered if you only look for it. 
Some nights we might stumble upon and old pub filled with characters, or a great band playing. Some nights we would eat in beautiful restaurants, often getting to know the owners or other diners. 
We would walk home enjoying the softly falling snow and the moon and the water views. Usually holding hands and talking about our experiences of that day or night. 
We had friends over for great parties, brunches, small dinners. We both loved when our friends would play music on our piano and or guitar. A few times we even sat down and jammed (poorly) together. We had a blast. 
When the spring came we planted vegetables and flowers in pots , and got involved in our community garden. We went to hear local and national bands. We went to see show and plays. We had picnics, and rode our bikes to watch the sunset almost every night. Then we would sit on our little stoop porch among the plants and flowers and look up at the stars, sometimes sipping wine and always sharing stories.We talked about books and movies and politics and told the stories or our lives. We made all kinds of plans for the future.  
We enjoyed great times with our family, friends, and even strangers. 
Our home was bright with color and with spirit. We had figured it out. We felt almost like we were getting away with something that others hadnt figured out. We were madly and crazy in love. We thought that we had discovered the secrets of the Universe.  
This is "The Middle," and all I feel like talking about today. There is much more to our story, including our fun and crazy start, our incredibly strong love through all kinds of obstacles we could not have foreseen, and where that led us and what it taught us. 
This is what I felt like thinking about and sharing today. 

If you know me well, or you read my blog, you might know that my beloved boyfriend is bravely and 'kickassingly' fighting liver disease. The latest news from the doctors is that he is doing much better than they expected and is continuing to defy medical logic +/or common sense. This is partially because he actually does what he is supposed to do. He takes his medication, he goes to his medical appointments. He is kind and appreciative to every medical professional who crosses his path. He gets his blood drawn when he feels like there is nothing left to give. And basically, he is a tough, stubborn, kickass, belligerent Irishman. Or he would not be with us. Period. 
You might think that writing about this would be depressing. And don't get me wrong, there are depressing moments. There are moments when you seriously doubt your own capacity for strength, and his. Its not the easiest thing in the world. 
On the other hand, you start to have these profound moments. Special things that happen the seem to mean more to because of all that is going on. A rainbow follows you to one of your best friend's housewarming party, just when you really needed a boost badly. Heck, the fact that he felt well enough to go for a bit was a huge deal. If you saw that rainbow on a regular day, you'd think, "gee, that is lovely." Vs., "wow that has to be a sign of beautiful things to come." 
I've always done a pretty good job of appreciating small beautiful moments. I thank my parents for that. That is not a new skill for me. At the same time, is kind of like everything is heightened now. The good, the bad, and the ugly. A long soft backrub from someone so sick seems like a beautiful gift. Other days,he falls on the ground and it feels very ugly and frightening. He says, "I love you," with such intensity and sincerity that it goes through my soul. Minutes later:A brilliant man, he loses his place in the conversation and looks scared and confused. It feels like a constant rollercoaster of beauty and pain. 
Peter has about 4 and 1/2 more months before he is eligible to even begin the wait for a liver transplant. Then its about matching and other complicated things like that. He is working very hard at making sure that he does everything within his power to make sure that he is ready, willing , and able when the time comes. It is something to watch and admire, and learn from. Focus. Strength. And he still manages to find moments of beauty for us along the way. 
Friends and family, well we both draw from their amazing strength and support. And even strangers, like our nurses, blow us away with their many beautiful kindnesses. We have acquaintances offering us support in ways I have been incredibly inspired by, and learned from. Ive always loved finding ways to help other people. Now, I look at each one of these people along the way as a lesson in how I can be a better person going forward. No, I wasn't a big jerk or something before all of this. I was always a pretty nice person. But there is nice, and then there is putting your life's focus on making this world a better place in any small way possible. 
I do cry. Ive probably cried more in the last couple of months than I have in my entire life.  I do say directly to God, "what the eff could I have possibly done to deserve this?" And then I snap out of it and find my way.
Today we went to the water and spent time with good friends. We felt the great water breeze. Enjoyed the beauty of where we live and being together. And Peter, looking at the water, said, for the 20th time this month, " We live in a magical place."  Maybe we do. 

My grandmother died a long time ago. A really long time ago. I was blessed with inheriting her beautiful china set. Its a full set and includes dessert dishes and teacups. It is in pink and yellow, and trimmed in gold. I love the idea of my aunts and uncles and all of our extended family having used these beautiful dishes over the years. It makes me feel connected to my grandparents and others who have passed. Family china. It means so much to me. And happens to be in exactly my taste, which is a nice bonus. 
When my grandmother died, I was too young to be hosting any dinners, and until fairly recently, I wasn't much of a cook. The china was packed and stored in my basement in various apartments until I bought my house. "OK. Now I get to use the china!" 
Except I didn't. We kept the good silverware, china, and special glasses put away for just the right occasion. For the fifteen years that I lived in that house, I never used it once. 
Peter came in to my life at the end of my divorce. I was sorting out my house, and I had a big job of downsizing from a four bedroom house to a two bedroom loft. He helped me go through everything and helped me with some difficult decisions about what to keep. So, one night, going through boxes, we came across the china. After ten minutes of me rambling on about how much I loved it and what it meant to me, Peter said, "lets use this tonight for dinner." 
It was like being set free! Out came the crystal glasses, the amazing silverware. A hand-painted water pitcher and glasses from Italy. Flowers and candles on the table. I don't remember what we ate that night, but I remember sitting there thinking, "all of these years. These exquisite things sat in boxes in the dark. " 
We pledged there and then that we would use all of the beautiful things, all of the time. Every day. We make a simple meal beautiful. We don't have to wait for a special Veuve Cliquot night to use the good champagne glasses. Korbel Brut Rose tastes just lovely out of the same glass. We don't wait for lobster or caviar to use the dishes. A nice veggie stir-fry looks and tastes fantastic with the dishes and silver. 
The day that my mother told us that all of these things could go in the dishwasher was like icing on the cake! And you know what, if something breaks, so what. At least it will have been used and loved. And not wrapped in a box in the dark.  
So wear that special dress, carry that special handbag. Even if its just to the movies. Or make an occasion, go to the Giacomo , and order a special glass of wine and look at the spectacular view of the falls. Or take those special plates and a lovely tablecloth and have a beautiful dessert picnic at the park by the water. 
We dont know how many years that we have on this earth,but I can assure you, we will spend them making each day as special as possible. We use the good china. 

Every once in a while, I feel sorry for myself. My marriage didn't work out, I went from a house to an apartment, I had to figure some stuff out. Blah blah blah. 
Now, OK. Sometimes I am disappointed about the past. At the same time, I am in a place close to the water. Where I have always wanted to be. With someone who genuinely loves me. And loves me well. A brilliant, complicated, hilarious man. Who loves talking and listening. And being with me. I have a beautiful and amazing dog. I am making plans for all kinds of stuff that I had given up any hope for. And there is a lot of stuff!! Wait til you hear all of it! 
My life is so different now. In the summer, we walk to the water and hear music. In the winter, we take the pup to the dog park and then maybe walk around town, hear music, visit with our friends. Our apartment is in bright blissful color.We host brunches, dinner parties, cocktail parties.  He welcomes not only my family and friends, but embraces people from my past who most people would forbid or eyeroll/reject. 
Everything, and I mean: everything, in the world is possible now. Everything. 
So, Universe, I don't know why you had to put me through all that, because it was fantastic, then it was excruciating, then I moved on. But OK. As Hannah Marcotti would say, #ilovethislifenow. 

We don't really have an anniversary. Our relationship started out kind of unconventionally. Peter made a comment on my friend Rebecca's Facebook page. I told him that I thought that he was clever and funny. Shortly thereafter, he sent me a friend request with the disclaimer, " you seem lovely. I hope that doesn't seem too fruity." 
Once we were Facebook friends, we started messaging back and forth. I thought he was smart and funny. And he is. I was in the middle of the aftermath of getting divorced and I wasn't sleeping much. My conversations with him became highlights of my day. He really is a fascinating man, and he loved listening as much as he loved talking. These late night talks got me through my first single Holidays, and many nights of confusion and loneliness.
Eventually, we started talking on the phone. Some nights he would talk to me for hours until I could fall asleep. His voice. It was kind, masculine, beautiful and calming to me. 
I was dating pretty much anybody who would ask me at that time. I thought that no one would ever want me again and I was absolutely shocked to see that lots and lots of people were interested in me romantically. Broken-hearted from a divorce that I never expected, I realized that I didn't know how to "pick out" a person to be in my life. So I took a deep breath and trusted the Universe to bring me a companion if I was meant to have one. 
Months passed, and Peter and I finally had our first date. It didn't go all that well. Strong and sure on the phone, Peter was soft spoken and shy in person. I told all of my friends that I wasn't planning on ever seeing him again. But I missed Phone Peter. Badly. 
Date number two, he must have had a hell of a peptalk with himself on the way to town, because he was so overly aggressive and overblown that I found him insufferable. He left, I vowed that I would never see him again. But, you guessed it, I missed Phone Peter. 
Date number three, the real Peter Kelleher came to town. Brilliant, interesting, sexy, fun Peter. It took us both a while to realize  that we were pretty much in love before the day that we met. But we got there. And we have been together ever since. We just cant really figure out an anniversary per se. We have decided that the first day of spring will be our special day. 
Oh, and we needed a song. Peter jokingly suggested Photograph by Def Leppard, because I love Def Leppard and all he had was a photograph for the three months that we talked before we met. So that was funny and cute and all, but that was not "our song." 
We came in last night to hear Olivia Newton John's,  Magic playing. I said, "could this be our song?" And he said, " I thought this already was our song."