Letters to Tuvia #74 Making Sense (11-8-15)

Morning T,

I’ve been up for a few hours in the darkness, but I’m itching to begin this post even though it’s still too early to be up and I’ve already had 1 1/2 cups of coffee and the slice of good toast with a smear of sunflower seed butter.

If you were here, you have found me on the couch and urged me back to bed and after a few minutes of firm pushing, I would have been following behind.  But you are not here and my  acceptance of that simple fact now changes everything.

Acceptance for me now is deep, deep in the bones of my existence.  I can feel my transformation as I move around the apartment, getting to know it without you, for the first time in 20 years; for the first time since we made it the home we shared together.

I forget that even though we’ve been established at your place for almost two years  before that, our life here was special and as I walk from room to room, I see you sitting, I see you sleeping, I see us sharing  meals in the kitchen, in the dining room with friends. I see us snuggled on the couch on a Sunday night after I’ve played guitar and you’ve shut the bedroom door for the latest edition of 60 Minutes.  I see it all as I walk the rooms in the darkness with a cup of coffee in my left hand,  I see us together and I’m so happy to be here even though I am still looking forward to a morning back at the house.  I’m still torn between our lives in Paramus, and here, above the Hudson. But here I’m remembering that every time you walked through the door, you remarked, ” It’s so good to be here, so beautiful.”

I can’t remember your last time here but  I have to ACCEPT  the fact that you will never be back.


Me here without you…  and to think I’ve had some friends wonder when I will be out on that meat market of life again looking for the man to fill the  spaces you’ve left behind.

Hmmm, I can’t imagine that.

Miss you forever,


Bonnie S.

Time for a shower, some breakfast and a ride to the house.  Sophia is coming to clean it.  Ami arrives tomorrow.


7 thoughts

  1. At least you are surrounded by happy memories, no matter which home you happen to be in. Acceptance comes slowly, that’s not a bad thing. Thinking of you.

  2. I like hearing your memories, Bonnie, so good to be able to ‘see’ Tuvia in those places, special moments for both of you. I feel like the first part of acceptance is being present, and that you are, in your writing and in your being out in the world no matter what. Hugs for Sunday and being at the house, getting ready for company.

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