I ain't certain

I had breakfast with an old friend a few days ago.
Both of us had lost wives, from the same disease, exactly a year apart.
Life is not so good now. It is not really bad, just not really good.
In fact, we both agreed, that while we will do nothing to hasten the end of our lives, we will do nothing to extend our lives either. There just does not seem to be too much to live for.
What is wrong with us? I don’t know.

For the last dozen or more years, my goal, my job and my everyday experience was to take care of my Miriam. Now she is gone and something bigger than us or her or me has gone too.
It is harder to move on than I had thought.
My widower friend seems to have come to the same conclusions. He cared for his Rose for years until she finally passed away, together in their house. I think his real reason for living has taken a leave as has mine.

What to do? I am not sure.

Where am I goin?
I don’t know
Where am I headin?
I ain’t certain
All I know
Is I am on my way.
from “Paint your wagon.”