Full Time Care

Last night, I sat and watched Forrest Gump (again). I have a large number of films on VHS and DVD, but there are thirty or so that I watch a lot more than the others.

At the end, when he’s talking to Jenny’s grave, it suddenly occurred to me how living with someone who’s alcoholic is, in some ways, like losing them to death. There I was downstairs, while my partner was in bed asleep: I’m thinking stuff and talking to her in my head. We’re so close that we know what the other is thinking, almost without saying anything. We share everything. She’s not dead, so at least I get to see her pretty often, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.

“If you need anything, I won’t be far away,” says Forrest. I say the same to her, or at least something similar. She’s absent for a long time some days, either through sleep or through inebriation. It’s like living alone, with only the memories of the woman I love for company.

I miss her. I miss the walks, the chats, the warmth, the laughter. I miss her love.

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