It seems the most unexpected events can trigger a moment. This week we’ve had a downstairs shower room constructed to make like easier for G. It was made at one end of the space we call the computer room, in the alcove that for the past 25 years G has had his desk. The addition of a downstairs loo and shower will make a big difference but the loss of his desk in the alcove is heart rending. To be honest, probaby more for me than him. He’s past caring and readily agreed to downstairs facilities when in the past he’d fiercely protected his desk area from any kind of interference.
For more than twenty years we’ve sat together in that room. In 2000 when I moved in G set up the adjacent wall for my desk and computer and in the intervening years we’ve worked away at various projects, separately and together. He wrote computer programs for my enterprises, first selling second hand books and then designing in Second Life. Retiring early he took up photography with a passion. Photoshop was usually up on his screen at all hours of the day and night as he meticulously scoured his images for dust spots, chasing perfection. There was also a time when we both played World of Warcraft, talking to each other across the room, whether we were struggling with quests or grinding for XP. In more recent times when G’s deteriorating eyesight put a stop to photography he sat in that space and played stategy games such as Civilisation. In recent weeks it’s just been Solitaire.
Although I know this transition will be a better use of the space it didn’t stop me getting tearful as I sat alone at the kitchen table this morning and realised that I would never again automatically turn my head to the right as I entered that room and see him sitting in his chair. It’s another part of life that’s come to an end. A reminder of what’s to come.
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