Living Zen Life

I've written about my wife and her passing.
It has done me good to reflect so
in ways I had not for too long.
I wonder if there comes a time 
in a widowers life when being alone
becomes a natural way of being
when it settles inside
that there will not be another
at least not in the same way?

Some months ago there was another
I thought she might be one to stay.
One day she called saying
I don't want to see you anymore.
I was disappointed and confused 
as she wouldn't say why.

She had lost her dear husband
two years before I lost my wife.
Our losses were a thing we shared in common.
It was clear to me she was still mourning
for a man that meant so much to her.

I told this to my friend the other day.
My friend said, maybe she knew
what you did not, that you had work to do.
Is that possible? She knew but couldn't say?
I've guessed several reasons she may have had
for ending our short-lived time together
but that she may have seen my neglected grief 
never crossed my mind.

Can anyone know grief  
as well as one who has deeply grieved?
She may have looked for signs of it in me
seeing none she turned away.
How could she be with one
who could not understand her loss
thinking I might replace her love so easily?

Should this be the cause of her turning from me
how could I blame her?
She needed someone who understood her
and I wasn't that someone.
Of course I do not know her reasons
but it makes as much or more sense 
than anything else I've been able to guess.

I've not been one to cry tears in all my adult life,
not since the day when, as a very young child,
I wailed loudly with tears by my bed
after a spanking from my mother.
(A sweeter woman you could not know.)
In the height of my anguish
the thought came to my little head
why are you crying so hard and loud?
In that instant I stopped crying.
To this day I seem unable to shed tears
that come so easily to others.

My mourning has taken the only form I know.
This is it. 
Words have always been my consolation
but of my wife's suffering and death
I had written very little before the last few weeks.
I wonder how I had been so dense
as to not write of so important a thing
as the death of my wife and my loss?
I do not have a good explanation.