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Written Monday, October 7, 2019 / Day 56 / Morning “How are You?” Is one of the most difficult questions for me to answer these days. In my world of grief the problem is - I just don’t know. It is a world dominated by feelings and reactions. I end up saying, “It’s day by day.” - something my dear sweet wife taught me through the way she dealt with her afflictions. But in reality - I just don’t know how I am. Here is a catalog of the typical feelings that I have in my world of grief: Empty - there is that vast hole, crater actually where part of my life used to be. That missing part has created a vast emptiness. It is not even like an empty room - more like a vacuum - there is nothing there at all. Sad - the sadness comes from the loss. The reality is ever-present and so is the associated sadness. The solution is not like the song, “Put on a happy face, brush on a smile and cheer-up…”. Unfortunately we’re way past that being an option. Getting by - I am grateful that in my world of grief - I am at least operating at some level. I get by each day with an obligation or other distraction - but that’s about it. Neutral - right now I don’t have an opinion about anything. There’s nothing at all you could get me excited about in any way. I just don’t care at the moment. And you can’t make me. Hopeful - it’s an odd one to be here but I have a distinct element of hope buried under the rubble that is now my life. I do see a day when this will be different. I totally cannot conceive of how the will happen - but that feeling is there. Once in a while I can hear it trying to call to me. It’s like the sound of a smoke alarm battery that is failing. This little reminder in the background. Awkwardness - All of my life has halted. Actually the life I led died when my dear sweetie left me. Being alone for the first time in my life, along with trying to operate without her is constantly awkward at a level that takes my breath away. I like the analogy of all of your clothes being on backwards. You are dressed and all - but you feel completely out of your element. That’s about right for me at this point. Then there is the condition that words cannot convey. I struggle with this and due to the emotional nature of grief - it is actually inexpressible. Wrap up all the feelings in this undefinable element and you have a picture of my life. So the question “How are You?” is a difficult one to answer. Things are constantly changing - and by that I don’t mean a nice linear progression forward - instead think of a game of billiards. There can be a lot of action - but no results. And what results you do get - are accomplished a very unordered pattern. Yes - that would explain one of my days. There is a constant measuring process - an assessment I make in the background. Recently I seem to have an element of stability. I have been facing several obligations due to breakdowns of machines and other tasks - perhaps that has diverted my attention. Today in fact, I am meeting a friend for lunch so this day has had a particular order to it due to the obligation. Usually I do not have the energy to focus on my own without an external force involved. So I’ll have to be ready with my answer. We’ll see what it will be.

Written Wednesday, October 3, 2019 / Day 52 / Evening (Written during the “Coping with Grief Through Writing” support group - Wednesday, October 3, 2019) Grief is like a fog. As you are going through each day - what is ahead of you - you just don’t know. Some days there will be cliffs you fall down, others days you will stumble, still others have smooth paths. The only constant is that you can never know. It is difficult when others who are not in the fog wonder why you are moving so slowly - why you walk with such short steps. They are not able to realize that we do not know if we are going to fall because of what is ahead of us. Because we do not know what is awaiting us. For us - the future is not clear - I can see when there will be a time when that will be the case - but not today. And I am not going to pretend that I can know that date - but it will come. In the fog, all you have is where you are and where you have been. Looking back - I try to not to dwell on the worst things I can see that are behind me. I strain to pick out only those parts of the journey that remind me of the joy that once was. The present then will be what it is. I need patience to move on. Taking care of the present and its needs takes my mind off of the fog that is ahead - at least for the moment. Now it is time to move on through the fog - knowing that perhaps I am a little more aware of what might be ahead of me. Praying that I am a bit stronger to make the journey as I have overcome the harder parts of the journey that has taken place. It is one step at a time. Fogs lift. Skies clear. I move forward one step at a time until that day will come.

Written Wednesday, October 3, 2019 / Day 52 / Afternoon (Written for the “Coping with Grief Through Writing” support group - Wednesday, October 3, 2019) To my dear, sweet, Joann… Words are not adequate to express how it is without you - so I will not try to do that. Grief has been relentless and because you were everything to me, that has made life quite unbearable. Recently I discovered those notes you used to put in my lunch snacks. Every day they were there - and everyday when I read them they made me smile. Every day. Being sentimental as I am - I saved them of course. Then life moved on to where I now am today. So imagine my surprise when going through some things in the house I found 2 9 by12 envelopes with the notes in them! I had found where I had saved them all. As I hugged the envelope I realized that these little notes were a part of you. At the time I had to keep them - because they were you. I couldn’t look at them at all…but then it struck me - why not? This is what I want to replace the sadness that is now my life. I am tired of that sadness. So I am going to embrace these notes - I am going to smile again. I know that is what you would want. You would be the first person to tell me that. So I will. I’m not sure if I’ll just take one a day or maybe two - I’ll just have to try it and see what happens - but what I will do is when I read them is - I will smile. And I’ll remember all those good times. Yes I will still live with sadness - that is part of my life for the moment. But these note will make a difference. They will make me smile. Because they are you. The best of you.

Written Sunday, September 29, 2019 / Day 48 / Early Afternoon Say you love to restore old cars. It is a passion of yours. Taking apart the base of the vehicle - researching each of the components you need to rebuild. Looking for the original part if it can be found. When it cannot, finding a thoughtful and reasonable replica of the item. This is not an easy hobby. Nor a hobby that produces any real results in a short period of time. The quest can take years. Victories are there - small ones as well as the large ones. Form the tiniest of things to the largest components - you become quite attached to a project like this. You have to love the journey. Love the effort. Taking the time it takes to accomplish the goal. It literally becomes part of you. Part of you because you have invested so much time, energy and talent in the mission. The project - in reality - becomes an extension of your very being. As that day arrives when all the efforts have been completed - the tasks done - all the parts found, you rejoice that the final product is there for everyone to see. You take the vehicle to shows, bask in what was done to get there. Relish each aspect you can share with others - the challenges, the problems and of course - the successes. As you are traveling to another event - the unthinkable happens. There is an accident. A multiple car accident. A fluke occurrence. One that not only causes all the vehicles to become damaged - but due to the extraordinary nature of the accident - causes multiple vehicles to become piled - one on top of the other. You, riding in your vehicle are at the bottom of the pile. The doors crushed by other vehicles surrounding yours. You are trapped. You cannot escape. You are alone. What do you do - what CAN you do? You cry for help. You hear the faint words of rescuers that they are coming for you. But it will be a long while before they can free you. What can you do? You pray for strength - for rescue. All your work around you - now damaged - some can be repaired - most cannot. All the effort you lovingly made to build that vehicle - now just a memory. All you have around you now - is wreckage. Oh there are a few small items that will be salvaged. But it won’t be the same. You hear others outside asking how you are doing. You try to tell them, but all they can ask is when you will be joining them. It’s difficult to respond - I’m trapped - you say - I can’t find my way out of this. They say they hope you will soon and then say goodbye. Leaving you alone. And what of your future - when you are freed from the wreck? What of that show you are to go to next month? You could go - but it wouldn’t be the same. Not the same because you lost the jewel of your life - that vehicle that had so much put into it - the one that was everything to you. You could go - but how could you? You could purchase a restored vehicle. But where would be the stories, the adventure - the connection to what made it what it is? The future for you looks empty at the moment - that is once you get out of that trap you are in. They find a way to get supplies to you so you can eat. Things are going on to help you - you know that - but all you want is to get out of the trap and have your vehicle restored. You will be able to be freed - but your life will never be the same. Your vehicle is gone. Those who did not build the vehicle - experience the journey will not - can not understand. They did not have the connection, the bond you had. To them it is only an event - a tragic event that you will recover from. To you however, it is a supreme loss - one that only you can understand. And one that you will live with always as you move onward to your future.

Written Sunday, September 29, 2019 / Day 48 / Early Afternoon Today I am trying to face one of the most gut-wrenching elements of my grief journey. This has been a consistent theme - one which I have recognized as quite disarming and depressing. My academic side tells me the logic - my emotional side slaps me in the head with its dose of reality. This seems to be one of those trigger items. I don’t explicitly start thinking about it - but one thing leads to another and before I know it - there I am in the midst of the breakdown. Recently I am trying to stop my thinking from going to unproductive places - those places where I am simply wallowing in the despair. Drenching myself with the unresolvable. I am increasingly aware that it is a fruitless exercise. As much as I try to avoid the trap - I keep falling into it. Perhaps this is an area that we learn to navigate - because from what I can see - this will always be a potential trap. And here it is - hopefully in telling this - I will not trap myself. The bulk of this comes from the inescapable fact that we were on our course - flawed as it was - with hopes, dreams and plans. There are many things in our home that I find that were things we wanted to pursue at some future time. The reality of just staying focused on the immediate needs of living pretty much excluded us from anything “extra”. Now, in the cold, harsh, stark light of the present - these things, these plans taunt me. Taunt me with the fact that they will never be pursued - together. Never be fulfilled. That we will never realize the joy we wanted to have in pursuing them together. And the thought of me pursuing them without my dear sweetie is simple unthinkable, undesirable and practically offensive to my current sensibilities. All it takes is that glance, that recognition of that element, that plan, that shared idea. Then I go off into the unresolvable logic meltdown that is currently my life. So today I stopped the descent - called out to the room - “NO, I will no longer go there!!!”. “It was never to be - so don’t mourn for something that ‘could have been’ but can never be.” It’s like being angry with a meal that you were planning on making but never did. What’s the real issue with that? The issue it seems is that it is not a valid use of emotions. Energy directed to an idea instead of a reality. So as painful as reality is at the moment - I have to stand my ground and live in it. That is not easy. But the trip to mourning for what could have been but would never be is just a fruitless exercise. One I am choosing to not allow. I am just not going to go there. Mainly because there is nothing there - nothing but pseudo-grief if you could call it that. Grief is bad enough - grief based on a tangible loss. Grief based on an idea…well, I am no longer going to waste my time on that. It’s pointless. I’ve got plenty of tangible pointlessness to manage right now. So much of life at the moment is without purpose - a future purpose that is. As I have mentioned previously, the future in on permanent hold for the moment. It is a place I can not, will not even contemplate without the one who made my life possible. There can be no life - for now - without her. An impasse for sure - but one I know will be resolved in the future. Once I am equipped. Once God heals my broken, crushed spirit and leads me to the future He knows He wants for me. A future where what could have been is relegated to its rightful place. A place where I no longer visit. Replaced with the current, the present - the now. Those words are just as surreal as my present life is. But God, who has me in His hand, is leading me to that place. In His mercy and compassion taking me to that place where I am healed. Where the memories of my dear sweetheart give me strength - surround me with love - and give life to this crushed and broken spirit.

Written Friday, September 27, 2019 / Day 46 / Evening I live in a word of paradoxes and logic problems. None of my thought patterns seem to work anymore. A lot of that, I know, is because what they are based upon is no longer valid. Despite the fact I know this - I keep becoming trapped in my own thoughts. In the past few days I have been realizing I need to at least put up a fight when grief and its friends show up. One of their most potent weapons is the past. Academically, I realize that I need to live in the present - but the present is so awful right now I have no where to go. The future is an unknown to me. The future is something I don’t even really want to deal with right now. If I have to, I will - like taking the trip to Buffalo on October 15th. That becomes an obligation. I can do those. The future - I don’t do the future right now. So if I resist the future unless I have to, and can’t stand the present at the moment - what do I have left? Looks like the past is all I’ve got. The past, it turns out, is like walking through an ammunitions dump with a blowtorch. It’s not a question as to whether there will be an explosion - it’s just a matter of how big will it be and how much of the dump will go up in flames. Grief and the past are like that. There is certainly a draw to the past. Ahhh…my pre-grief life - warts and all. Let me drink it in…the moments, those times…all that it meant and then <> back to the hard cold reality of where I actually am. And it isn’t a soft landing. As I mentioned, lately I have been flexing my muscles so to speak - and making an attempt at stopping the explosions before I create them. I pray that I will be able to have a memory and not be so devastated by it. I want that memory to be an encouraging moment. I want it to strengthen me because it represents a time of strength. The problem then is having to face reality because reality reminds me that it is only a memory and you can never have another one like it. Well, thanks a lot. What I am finding out though - if I make these declarations about my memories - I do get some of the trauma to lessen. I know it will always be there - I’m sure of that because it is the new reality. But it should be a memory of strength period. No editorializing about the present. Sort of like the lawyer show where the prosecutor tells the witness, “Just answer the question…yes or no.” When all the time the witness wants to embellish on the response. I look grief in the eye and say - “That was a time of love and joy - thank you.” NOW GET LOST. That’s what it is and that’s what it will always be. I’m not that good at this yet - but perhaps I am on my way to some other aspect of this journey. At least I am trying to take some action. Well, look at me…next thing you know I’ll be setting goals.

Written Wednesday, September 25, 2019 / Day 44 / Afternoon Grief is something you navigate - it can’t be controlled. It is such a powerful force I have found that at times it cannot be resisted. Lately though, I am finding that I am an accomplice in grief’s work. And the more I realize it - the more I see that I do have some limited power to confront it. There was the beach trip. It was a new place - a place my wife and I had no history with. It was a neutral place. I noticed that grief’s hold was limited while I was there. I had my moments for sure - but they were not of the intensity and impact that I was experiencing at home. This was a welcome relief. When returning home, as I expected, grief was waiting for me. And I was past due on my grief because of my absence. The last few days I have been realizing that in my reminiscing moments - I seem to be magnifying grief’s effects. Yes I miss her, yes I lament on what has been lost - the future that will never be, I go on and on. Then I realize - what are you doing? Why are you whipping up these things. They will never be. She is settled. She is at rest. Why are you making something out of things that can never be? What is the point? Then I actually catch myself - amidst the tears for sure, and say…why that’s right. Let me cry for what has been actually lost - not what could never be. Let me not cry for made up things that I hoped would happen. Nothing can make them happen. If anything - cry about real things that happened, experiences you shared - the ones you now miss. It struck me today, actually - that I want to dwell on the times we were sharing good moments if I have to dwell on something. I don’t want to mourn about a nebulous future that I’m dreaming up - no let me miss the best of her that actually was. And let me not whip myself up to a frenzy about what I cannot change. Perhaps this is some type of growth - I don’t know. But it has made an ever so slight difference in how I am experiencing my grief sessions - if you could call them that. Facing what has been lost is beyond difficult. It just doesn’t make sense right now - perhaps in time it will - or at least the loss will not be as toxic as it is right now. I do find myself stopping my descent when I feel it coming….I will catch myself saying…no - that is not how I want to grieve. Wow - do I dare tell grief how I want to grieve? Well we’ll give it a shot. At times in these past 44 days, I have felt like a bunch of bullies have been beating me up regularly. Being new to the neighborhood I have just taken it. Partly because of being overwhelmed with everything coming crashing down on me. It has just been how it has been. But now there seems to be a change. The beach showed me that my grief has it’s limits. And if I’m going to have to live with this loss - I can at least not beat myself up while grief and it’s friends work me over. And maybe, as I get better at this - put grief in its place. Now that would be something indeed.

Written Tuesday, September 24, 2019 / Day 43 / Morning The ebb and flow of emotions in the world of grief is quite disarming. Mainly because when they do come - they can be overwhelming and devastating. Having passed the 40 day mark - I do marvel that I am experiencing a difference in these episodes. I am still having them but when I do they have turned the moment into a conversational (from my part) time with God. I cannot imagine experiencing what I have been experiencing without God in the picture. For those who do not know Him yet I can see where there could be great anger for what has taken place. Our experience however is quite different. God has always been a part of our lives - my wife was totally aware of what was ahead of her - our decades of Bible study without a church organization, church culture or prevailing Christian values to tell us what to believe put us in a very unique position. The Bible is our foundation and when you study it and are led by it you will often come in conflict with all of those elements I just mentioned. Needless to say, my wife was 100% sure of what was coming - as I am. Now that didn’t mean she did not have apprehensions and anxiety about some aspects of what we learned - but God’s love and His spirit surround us with a confidence and peace when we let it. She totally had that throughout those final weeks as well as the years of health issues that began back in 2011. In these past few days, these moments of deep, heartfelt and overwhelming emotions have come. When they do, I sit in our swivel chair and just tick through the elements out loud with God. I go through my logic routine. She is settled. You decided that. She is at peace and awaiting the resurrection you taught us about through your Word. Then I go through my particular grief episode themes. Lately I have been quite bold. The Bible does say to boldly approach the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16) and I do. I tell Him to help me out of the pit I am in. To remove these deep moments of anguish. That He made the decision to take her and He has the responsibility to take me out of this anguish and suffering I am now facing. In the past few days - the theme of my life being over has surfaced. What I mean is that everything I had been doing in my life - and most of it had to do with her, or a connection to her - is now over. My marriage is now over. Death do us part. So I am alone. What has been the insurmountable weight I have been carrying is that all of my being, my activities, my routines even my very thinking has my wife at its core and all of that is also over. All of that has died. And I don’t want it to because it represents her in my life. My life, in that sense is over. And there is nothing as yet to replace it. Even if I wanted to replace it which I don’t. So there is the logic problem. But what I am seeing - and in the seeing there appears to be a mild settling effect - is that my life is now over. I mourn the loss because all of my life now has no theme - but I need to keep telling myself that this is the new reality as much as I don’t want it. Sorting out keeping her with me and letting her go to get on with some nebulous “new life” is the conflict and daily struggle. Now it seems - at least I have a clearer picture of the struggle. There’s a certain element of “settledness” (not a real word I know) in this realization. Yesterday I made a goal. A rather big one. I made plans to fly to Buffalo for a week to be with my Mother-in-law and Brother-in-law and the friends I can meet. It had been on my mind for a while. So in a few weeks that will take place. Look at me - setting a goal. Perhaps it’s a start - it certainly seems to be something. I can say I don’t want a life without my wife but the truth is that is where I am. I now have a life without her. Settling all the elements of my life - ending them in a sense because she is not here to be a part of them is what is next. I could not stomach that but now I see a bit of movement. So I will take a breath and continue on as God helps me sort these things out. I’ll let him know how its going the next time we talk. But I think He’s already ahead of me on that.

Written Monday, September 23, 2019 / Day 42 / Morning I don’t want this essay to sound overly morbid - but a significant concept hit me this morning on my way to doing something else. It was so strong that this essay was the result. When my family was forced to move away from our hometown of Tonawanda, New York due to unemployment - it was the most traumatic event we had ever faced. And that is saying a lot because of our tumultuous family issues that we lived with over the years. We had to leave everything behind and in the course of 8 months, made two total household moves. A move to Ohio from Buffalo, New York, then a move from Ohio to Virginia. We had no choice. We had pursued all the employment options at home for 6 months and nothing happened. When an opportunity arose out of state - it was so all-encompassing and empowering we had to take advantage of it - even though it meant leaving everything we knew and everyone we loved behind. That, we found was the deepest and most overwhelming aspect of that time and even years and decades later we were never really quite the same. Years into our move, one of our dear friends back “home” told us why we were suffering. They said we were mourning the loss of everything we knew. What a revelation that was to us! We had in a sense “lost” everything. Our familiar surroundings, the activities we did and most importantly all those who we loved so dearly. Now in my present state of grief - I can see that we were grieving our losses. In that context though, we had a pattern of our lives we had to lead. We had each other. We had a new church family to take us in. We did have something. We had just lost everything else that had mattered to us. That was a part of our very spirits. No wonder we never got “over it” as they would say. We were in a grief state we never realized. Because once you have lost something - the loss is permanent. It is always with you. It was always with us, decades later. What a revelation. Well, todays revelation is just as significant. Except for me quite depressing. Another bit of reality showing up. As I have written in past essays, the loss of my dear wife has ended our relationship and all that it meant - and means - to me. The plans, the dreams - all of that is over. I cannot totally get that as of yet - but it is reality. I was evaluating the house today, thinking about all that we had envisioned for it while I was doing my current limited routine. Then it struck me - I do not want to pursue any of the plans we had for it. We had a few projects in mind. There is one that is structural so I’ll probably deal with that some time. But the plans we had - they just don’t make sense to me. Why bother? I thought - who would these improvements be for? Me? Then it hit. All of this is also part of the death. Not only my wife died, but as a result all that we were going to do and everything related to it - also died. Right now, I cannot truly see the point in doing anything. There’s that “future” again. What future? A future without her is really no future at all to me. So any of the elements of that future - as far as I am concerned, I’ve just lost interest in them as well. They are dead. I don’t know if anything can be any more sobering in the state I am in where everything is empty and somewhat meaningless for the moment. The thought that all that surrounds me has also died is quite a realization. My broken heart is not into anything that would have to do with that future. Of course, I’ll keep things up, that’s the administrative life I now live. That’s why settling the physical things will be an intermediate goal. As I contemplate that - all of how I was operating begins to unravel. That is quite unsettling. Unsettling because I need to unravel everything I have been doing. Shopping, planning, all of the things I would do around the house - all of that is now dead. That’s a lot to take. I keep acting like everything is still the way it was before everything changed - and it is not. It has died. I relate to several companies I had worked for that had been acquired by other companies. Technically the companies were now owned by a new management structure. A structure with new goals, missions and principles. What was interesting was that how long it took the new company’s culture to replace the previous one. The company would mandate a new way - but in reality the staff still operated in the old way. Depending upon how entrenched the old culture was - and by extension how much the staff had the culture in their hearts - the time for that to change could literally be years. Why? Because the old culture had become a part of the staff’s values. Especially if it was a smaller company with more emotional connections that came along with the business values. This is exactly what I am facing now. My old “culture” was based on my wife being in my life - not only in it - but it! Now that there is a new “owner” in a sense - now ownership created by the absence of the old owner - I am still operating under the old way of thinking. This is something you cannot change overnight. But being aware of what I am facing does give me a small, small bit of comfort. Now, however, I have to take apart each item of my life. I have to test it and determine where it needs to change - or if it needs to change at all. There are so many elements as I am seeing. Well, just about everything that was my pre-grief life is on the table. It’s quite a list. A sad list. Because each item is to be changed because the old one has died. Now I at least am aware of what I am dealing with in a clearer way. It is still painful - but a necessary exercise. The inventory of my life has just became clear. It is not a pretty sight - but it is reality. God help me to embrace it.

Written Sunday, September 22, 2019 / Day 41 / Evening With grief, I never know what to expect. Today was no different. Well actually it was…different. Now differences have been happening all of the time. Swings of emotions and moods. Perceptions and observations - everything takes a turn taking a turn. Today, however, it seems to be a global change. I just can’t put my finger on what it is exactly. Let’s call it a sense of “settledness” - although I know that is not a word. Not a wholesale return to my pre-grief life, but a sense of a calmness running way in the background. I knew it when I picked up a little notebook of my wife when going through some things that need going through. There was nothing written in it but on the first page there was this one solitary entry, “People to see: Russ & Julia”. I broke down and cried like a baby. I went out to the living room and sat in the swivel chair and had a conversation with God right there as I wept. Yes I know she is gone - but this entry makes me mourn for what we wanted to do. I know I keep having this same conversation with you but it keeps getting to me. I know this all in my head - but my heart is just in pieces. Fix my heart, please. Keep these things from doing this to me. Keep me from doing this to me. I know you can do it. Please do. And so I sobbed and talked (out loud) and once I ran out of things to say…I got up and sort of felt…well calm. I stopped sobbing and went back to review other things. Some of them gave me a similar reaction but not as intense. And so it went. I ran out to get a Sunday paper and a few quick things. I like our little market near us. I can swoop in, get what I need and check myself out. Great for the introvert. Then back home. Walking in sort of matter-of-factly. No real wave of anything to go through. Not normal in any way but not as abnormal as it has been. So this seems to be something. As with all elements of grief - everything is in total motion all of the time - at least that is how it’s been so far. I read my class exercise for the Coping with Grief Though Writing group I started attending. The exercise on the attributes of grief surprised me. The ones listed really weren’t any of the ones I have been experiencing. Trouble sleeping was the only one. I added, emptiness and apathy to my list. Those are my big ones. And oh yes, I need to throw anguish and despair in there while I think about the list. As the day ends, I will be interested in seeing what the week brings. I am trying not to push myself - so I’ll take things as they come. And pray that what I have experienced today is a sign of progress for whatever future God has prepared for me.