Hi Diary,

I don't know why I didn't update sooner- just not into it, I guess.

Sunday was okay. It started out very stressful for me because things didn't seem to be working out; I wanted certain things that I couldn't find, and then I forgot to bring a bag of Frank's stuff to return so I had to go back and get it... etc.

Seeing Frank for the first time in months and months... well it was weird I guess, he came to pick me up and I thought he'd at least get out of the car and say hello, but he didn't, so I had to hop in. His hair was cut very short, and I was trying to determine if he lost weight... I couldn't really tell, it's been so long, but his arms looked like they were in shape. I think he was nervous, because he didn't try to hug me to say hello, he kept his hands busy driving, which was never like him. It was weird looking at the hands that used to touch me all the time, that I haven't seen in so long. Just sitting there, readjusting to his energy, I guess. He tried to ask me stupid small talk questions, like about work, why would I want to talk about that? I didn't feel pressured to make conversation, especially small talk, so most of the drive was in silence.

The process itself was really beautiful and Frank really showed up. He wrote five pages of things he wanted to say to me. I can only guess that he must have gone through every card, letter, and photograph he had from our time together, because he mentioned so much... and was so nice to me. I cried so much. All I can come away with is the feeling that Frank loves me, but can't love me. Weird but true. It was hard but while he was reading me all those things I tried to look into his eyes for the first time in months. His teeth look very terrible, like he's been smoking a lot and hasn't gone to the dentist in a long time, but otherwise he looks well. When we were finished he touched my hair, my face. It was the best and the worst, realizing how much I'd missed my lover's touch, and that it was no longer my lover's touch. He said he wants to stay connected to me for the rest of his life.

Afterward we went to dinner, which was actually fun. It felt like old times, I guess. Only when it was over, I realized, oh yeah, now I go home alone-- the same kind of feeling that happened that Sunday many months ago.

Directly afterward I went to a spa and had a massage and a bunch of other lovely things done to my body. It was relaxing and all I wanted to do was sleep afterward...

And everyday since Sunday, at some point in the day, I've just been bursting into tears, not little wimpy tears but real gut-wrenching grieving sobs. Every day. I guess whatever we did has given the tears permission to come out of me. It's good and bad. The whole process was so bittersweet.

Such is grief.

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