It has taken me a long time to gather my thoughts on this topic, and, while I do not choose to focus on grief, and while I have moved on to the point where my grief no longer defines me but is, rather, just part of me (and will be forever), I wanted to put my thoughts into words before moving on to other, hopefully, lighter subjects.

Many years ago, after my father died suddenly, when talking to us about him my mother would say “before Daddy ‘went'”. My Tom would always ask me, in a snarky kind of way, “where did your dad go?” This became something of a running joke between just me and Tom, and on occasion, if I was really annoyed with my mother, and she used the phrase, I would ask her where daddy went and why couldn’t she just say he had “died” instead.

I get it now.

There is a certain absolute finality about the word “died”…even though it is factual. And that finality makes it impossible for many to use the word regardless of their acceptance of the fact. There is a coldness to the word…after all “die” is the verb associated with the noun “death” and the adjective “dead”…all of which are stark and frank and very, very final.

Options that are common are “passed” and “passed away” which imply a certain softness, kindness and peacefulness…perhaps because of the sibilant sound of the “s”, which is certainly sweeter to the ear than the “d” sound. “Passed away” implies more of a voyage or transition than a full stop ending.

I think the words that best describe how I feel are “loss” and “lost”. I lost my partner, the father of my children, the new grandfather to my little grandson, my best friend, my #1 fan and supporter, my lover, my travel partner, my dishwasher, chili-maker, handyman, gardener and, really, my co-being. Now, when I come home at night from an event or from my children’s house, I profoundly and physically feel the loss of my companion and the person who welcomed me home for so many years as I enter an all-too-empty house.

I lost my Tom. And I have to look for him every day in what I do and how I feel. And when I find him, in a dream, or a memory, or a photo, video or song, it makes me smile. Sometimes finding him makes me burst into tears because I am hit with his loss. And that hurts. But with time, the smiles are starting to outnumber the breakdowns just a little bit, although I know that there are things coming up later this year where I will, undoubtedly, break down in hysterical tears no matter how much I will be smiling.

So for me, regardless of all the choices, “when I lost Tom” says it best.

But better still was that I found him in the first place. And for that I will always be truly blessed no matter what lies ahead.