A Life Without Sandy

Alone

The funeral was over. People had been in and out, but now everybody had gone, and I was on my own for the first time since Sandy died. The apartment was quiet. Quieter than it had ever been. I was alone, in a way I had not been in over 55 years. At 6 pm, I put down my book, and, as I had seen Sandy do hundreds of times, I got up and went into the kitchen to start supper. I got into the middle of the kitchen, stopped, and started crying. I had no idea what to do. It suddenly hit me - what Sandy had known to do all the years - if you're going to cook supper, then at some time in the past, you would have thought about it and bought the necessary ingredients. Obviously, I hadn't. I had never thought about preparing meals. That was one of the things that Sandy always did. Fortunately, Mindy had brought home-made frozen dinners, so I ate, and cried, and tried to organize myself. Alone. So this is how it's going to be. Not a very promising start.