My Last Kiss

I remember clearly the last time I kissed Ron as he transitioned. I knew he was gone when no energy was exchanged between us. I was simply kissing what was already the memory of my love. Songs and poems are written about the bliss of a first kiss, but people rarely discuss the last one.

In grief people easily talk about missing holding hands and physical closeness, but sex tends to be taboo. This is unfortunate because the loss of deep intimacy commonly affects those of us who have lost a partner.  Popping us when you see someone kiss on television, or when you smell a fragrance reminding you of lost moments, or when you see a happy couple walking hand in hand, your reaction can range from tears to depression.

What can you do? First, recognize that what you are feeling is normal and should be expected.  If you have someone you can talk to about what you are feeling, then talk.  Don’t let fear or embarrassment get in your way. I imagine most of us may have a hard time starting that conversation though. I turn to my journal where there is no judgement.  I can express what I am feeling and explore what they mean to me. Pour your heart out to your journal and see where that leads.

A word of caution here is to not jump into bed with the first person you run into who is willing.  I know that sounds bold, but it isn’t uncommon.  Our libido is strong and can drive us to the arms of a stranger, but that can lead to complications when it’s over.  When the only sex you have been having has been with someone you love deeply, you might equate a sexual encounter with that love leading to feelings ranging from guilt to desperation. If you do choose to have casual sex, be sure your eyes are open.

After Jacques died, I was so lonely. I found myself imagining someone coming along to make me feel feminine and sooth my soul.  A friend called me and said he knew how hard it could be to go places alone, so that if I ever wanted a companion, he was available. I took him up on it, and when I needed a plus one or just didn’t want to go someplace alone, he was there for me. What came up for me that I didn’t expect was people talking about me, even when I could overhear what they were saying.  The gist of the unkind words was that it was too early for me to be dating and that I must have been glad my husband died so that I could move on. Yes, they really did say that. People can be so thoughtless and hurtful. I chose not to go out with anyone else at that time, though this kind man still remains my friend.

What you do with your body is only up to you to decide.  While other people’s opinions really don’t matter, they can affect what you decide.  I decided that my life didn’t need to be fodder for gossip, so it took me a long time to realize I did want to be with someone again.  I discovered that what I wanted most in life was to love and be loved, so that eliminated casual relationships for me.

When I met Ron, I was immediately smitten.  Yet I had difficulty dealing with the fact that though wedding vows say till death do you part, I didn’t feel unmarried, and I had to deal with that.  One night we were standing in the parking lot of the restaurant where we just had a flirty, luscious meal and talked for hours, and he looked into my eyes and said, “I am going to kiss you now.” That perfect soft and loving kiss was perfect and started our commitment to each other.

From our first kiss to our last, I had no desire to be with anyone but him.  Our love life was what he called our Sacred Energy eXchange and was perfect. Because of that, I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else, but I do still find myself longing for that perfect kiss, that physical closeness.  I don’t know where I will go from here, but I do know I will take good care of myself in the process, feeling and honoring the sexuality that doesn’t end with the death in a relationship. And it’s OK, and it’s nobody else’s business.