Saturday, My Sadder Day

Another sad Saturday — 83 of them since my life mate died. Even when I don’t remember that it’s Saturday, or that Saturday is the day of the week he died, my body remembers, and my usual muted feeling of sadness becomes more pervasive. It’s not that I want to be sad; the sorrow just comes, especially when the weather is as perfect as today’s — warm, still, clear sky, bright sun, gently cooling breeze. I’d worry more about my continuing sadness except that I tend to be of a melancholic bent. And the sadness does reminds me to pay attention. Since he can no longer make note of a lovely day, it’s as if I need to appreciate it twice — once for me and once for him.

If Saturday is a sadder day than normal, that must be a sign that I am doing okay most of the time (otherwise I wouldn’t feel sadder; I’d just feel sad). The world still feels flawed, I still feel the phantom itch from where he was amputated from my life, and I still yearn to talk with him. Part of me (perhaps that fabled inner child?) cannot understand why I can’t call him to find out how he is doing, to see if he needs anything, to ask if I can come home. This yearning flares up every Saturday, as if he’s closer on this day, and it seems as if I should be able to reach out and touch him. But he’s gone, out of reach of even my sadness.

Oddly, in many respects, my life is much better now, at least temporarily, than it was at the end of “our” life. I don’t have to worry about him any more (though the habit of a lifetime is hard to break, so I wonder if he is feeling as lost and as alone as I sometimes feel). I have a lovely place to stay with proximity to wild spaces. I have a respite from bills and other such annoyances. I have time to indulge myself with small excursions and escapes.

But my heart doesn’t care for such things. It wants what it cannot have, especially on Saturday, my sadderday.

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9 Responses to “Saturday, My Sadder Day”

  1. leesis Says:

    please dont worry about your continuing sadness Pat. Melancholic tendencies aside losing a life partner means many moments of sadness over a long period of time. Gradually these moments become less, as yours have but really if a person is precious to us how can we not feel sad that they are no longer with us?

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      I am getting used to being alone, to his being gone, but there are times the reality of his death wells up, and it’s almost like at the beginning. Sometimes I feel so childish. I DO NOT WANT HIM TO BE DEAD!!! But it makes no difference. He is. And damn it. I miss him. Probably always will.

      • Lisa Says:

        Yeah, sometimes when really bad things have happened in my life, I have this feeling that if I close my eyes and wish really hard, I can make it un-happen. I’m sorry you can’t. Sorry that you’re grieving. It sounds like an amazing, wonderful relationship, and I doubt that many of us have experienced that level of love and connection and fulfillment.

        • Pat Bertram Says:

          Lisa, Oddly enough, it didn’t seem like a wonderful or fulfilling relationship. He was so often sick that it really skewed things. The connection was very strong, though — kept us together through a lot of tough times. Part of my grief is for all the things he could never do or will never be able to do now, for all his dreams that went unfulfilled. It’s scant comfort that he no longer cares, because I do.

  2. Bob Meeker Says:

    Hello again Pat. I think you have just explained why I always feel so much sadder on weekends than during the week. I’m at almost 11 months now (8 months behind you) and I too lost my spouse on a Saturday, but it was in December and it never occurred to me that the grief would hit harder every week as we approached Saturday. We all handle this differently they say and yet some things are common among all of us aren’t they? It’s supposed to get easier but that’s not happening yet with me. This weekend has been very hard but onward we struggle through the fog!

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      Hi, Bob. I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been wondering how you were doing. It doesn’t really get easier, how can it? Our loved ones are still gone. You get used to the grief, though, and it becomes easier to distract yourself.

      And yes, the day of the week makes a big difference. Most of us feel sadder on the day they died. I don’t know why that is, I only know it’s the way it is.

      Take care of yourself, and be sure to stop by if you need someone to talk to.

  3. Kathy Holmes Says:

    The only way I can relate, Pat, is that the little girl inside of me will never understand why I couldn’t know my father growing up. He was right there in the next town over. So why did my mother keep me from him? Because she wanted to create a new family, with a new daddy, and with new kids. Most days I’m a strong, grown-up woman who has grieved and learned to accept that loss and even celebrate who I am because I’ve lived the life I have. But every once in awhile, that little girl cries out for her real daddy.

    I’m so sorry for your loss, Pat! I’m here if you need to talk.

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      There is a lot of commonality among losses that affect us deeply, whether it’s being deprived of your father or being deprived of one’s mate. It’s all hard. I’m so glad you can celebrate who you are. Maybe someday I will be able to accept who I am (once I figure it out, that is).

  4. No More Saturday my Sadder Day | Bertram's Blog Says:

    […] mate, the date and the day he died have brought an upsurge of grief. Every 27th of the month and every Saturday I felt an increased sadness even when I wasn’t aware of the date and day. And when the 27th fell on […]


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