I have only one friend here, a man named Juan whom we met almost at the very beginning of our arrival in the Canary Islands. He's a communist, and he offered me a room while I decided about my future. He said he could let me stay with him, and since he loves dogs and cats, there wouldn't be any problem with that. I could leave my books and especially Claude's things, which I've decided not to throw away. I can't bring myself to do that. I think it's important to respect these objects that speak of the one who's gone, even to honor them. It seems to me that the Japanese have this philosophy.
He even told me I wouldn't have to pay anything.
Apart from this solution, I'm in the dark. I'm living on an island without friends or family. I have a very dear friend in Madrid who, by the way, is coming to visit me for two days at the beginning of April. Staying near her would give me contact with a wonderful family. She is the daughter of a man with whom we formed a close friendship when we lived in that village of 20 inhabitants. He was an expert in flowers and adored not only nature, possessing a deep knowledge of plants, but also dogs. His name was Gildo, and he was very fond of Claude. When Gildo died, his daughter contacted me.
The other alternative would be to return to Canada. My sister and Claude's sister live there. What should I do? I don't know, and it might be too soon to make a decision, but rather to let things settle down and see the alternatives more clearly. This is the first time I've had to decide what to do on my own. For 40 years, Claude made the decisions; he was, in a way, the captain of the ship. Now that he's gone, I have to become captain myself, and I don't even have the captain's uniform!
My body is very tired and I've started eating and drinking again, but it's slow. Also, I have a bad case of lumbago. I've started the process of claiming Claude's pension; he worked at a university. I have to deal with other bureaucratic procedures, which I hate. But I have to do it.
My dogs are my lifeline and an incredible source of comfort right now. I've also started looking into things in case I have to leave the island by plane: the cost of vaccinations, passports for them, which airline is best for traveling with animals, and so on.
Here on the island, it's very difficult to find accommodation. But anything is possible. It's also difficult to find accommodation in Madrid and Quebec. I feel like I'm in limbo. My only friend is in Madrid. We'll see when she comes to visit. I'd like to live near her, not because I'm afraid of being alone—I like being alone—but to create a new connection with a family (she has two children) and start over in a place where the memory of Claude will hurt less.
For now, this is what my life is like. I can only return to yoga once my lumbago has healed. I've returned to reading.
