Things not counted

Five years ago this evening, Nigel and I completed the 2018 NZ Census. As it happens, I also planned on doing my solo census stuff this evening, but that was purely coincidental. It was only because of a FB “Memory” that I knew the coincidence of dates; there’s no way I’d have remembered that this was the same date we did the 2018 Census. Here’s the Memory of what I said five years ago on Facebook:

I always used to look forward to doing the census, but this year—not so much. It’s the “both individual forms” part I mentioned five years ago: This year, it’s just me, just one one individual form, and I listed my status as “widower”(screen grab above).

As I said at the end of last month, I knew this was coming. Of course I did. I was also aware it’d be the first to not count Nigel, and to count me as a widower. But the “weirdness”, as I called it, was a bit more unexpected. I guess it’s one of those things that are hard to grasp until they arrive.

This Census was the first to ask about sexuality, asking, “Which of the following best describes how you think of yourself?” The options were: “heterosexual/straight”, “gay or lesbian”, “bisexual”, “another identity”, “prefer not to say”. Nigel and I would’ve talked a lot about that, what the results might be, that sort of thing. I miss those chats more than I could ever express, no matter how hard I tried.

Most of the time, I’m not sad, aside from occasional teary times brought on by a reminder or memory (or nothing at all). Mainly, I’d describe what I feel in one word: Tired. It’s exhausting learning/relearning everything about living alone here in the last third (roughly) of my own life. There are so many things I never knew how to do, and many more I’d forgotten about, because someone else always took care if it.

I stumble and bumble about trying to figure things out without my best friend, adviser, confidante, and soul mate at my side, and that makes everything difficult every day. I don’t need a rare thing like a census to remind me. Still, I push on as best I can, screwing up constantly (and sometimes spectacularly), and pausing to rest whenever I need to.

This evening, I closed another chapter in this story when I completed my first solo census. There’s one more thing about this: It’s likely to be the last significant “first”. No wonder it all feels weird. Focusing on the task got me through it, but even though I tried my very best, it was incomplete. There was just too much missing.