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Written Friday, September 20, 2019 / Day 39 / Afternoon Tears are the by product of grief. They regularly flow and as I have come to learn are not something to be afraid of. Looking back to my pre-grief life, that was not the case. I was afraid of tears. Somehow, in our culture, tears are a sign of weakness. Something to be pitied. Tsk, tsk, they might say, look at how emotional they are. Yet as I am learning, tears are the result of our grief. For me, they come quite regularly but not on any schedule. They come as I am reflecting on something - during that time there they are. This week, it seems they are a result of my mourning for my lost future with my dear wife. The plans we had, the things we had been anticipating for so long. The logic impasse is foreboding to me. The plans were there - now she is not. But here I am, with all the plans and artifacts of the plans all around me. It is hard to know how this will change. I am not letting her go perhaps - and the elements of life that are a part of our shared dreams are hard to ignore. Their power right now is immense. None of that is going to happen so I have to be ok with that. Bit I’m not. But I have to be. But I’m not. And so it goes. The tennis match of thought continues. I want to be settled in her peace, the end of suffering - that she was all right with what was coming. My love for her is a constant in my life - how does that change without her here? To those on the other side of grief, it boils down to getting on with things, moving to the future. But for me, right now, a future without her is just plain undesirable. It is nothing to be looking forward to. Because I can’t look forward. So the tears continue to flow. How does this precious relationship now ended have a resolution on my side? I can’t end it - I won’t end it. The relationship IS me. It defines me. And any new definition that does not include her in it is no definition I really want, thank you. Then more tears. The road to the future then will be a wet one. And for that I am not going to complain. I want to tell everyone how the tears are not a problem. That we should share them. Perhaps I will need to demonstrate that as I go forward. It won’t be difficult to do. There are plenty of them to go around. Do not be upset when they appear. You are free to join me - I won’t complain. You are no less a person for crying with me - in fact you are a giant. You honor my sweetie when you do. And make my journey just a bit more tolerable. And I will advance at one point. It will take time - and tears to accomplish. One day at a time. One tear at a time.

Written Wednesday, September 18, 2019 / Day 37 / Afternoon As is every day in grief so far - I do not know what to expect. After a particularly intense series of sessions on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were somewhat more stable. I wouldn’t call them upbeat - but there was a noticeable sense of “together” which when it shows up is really an event. But then, sprinkled in those “together” moments were certain unexpected emotional moments. The contrast between the “together” moments and the harsher ones took me back a bit. Could this just be another “way this is going to go”? Or was it just a bump in the road? No one can really know - especially me. But what they centered upon was this anguish about the loss. On the endless list - it seems - of unresolvable items that need some type of resolution is the constant loop of what will never be fulfilled. Having been stopped in our tracks so to speak by the diversion we thought was just a diversion but turned out to be a destination - a dead end (although I did not intend that to be a pun right now) - everything that had been in play is now ended. The centerpiece of all this is of course losing my sweet Joann. Then everything connected to her and I follows. That’s not all so neat and tidy. My mind was still in gear. Our patterns of life were still in motion. Plans were out there. All of that now ended. There is nowhere to go with a plan without the co-planner. So these fragments of my pre-grief life keep emerging. Emerging to taunt me that they are there but will never become a reality. The clues are everywhere. Things we had bought, steps we had taken, goals identified. And those clues are now like a 2 by 4 across the face. Sorry - that’s not to be. Nope, not that either. Sure it would have been great - but are you going to pull that off on your own? And so it goes. Then I just plain miss her. I go through my logic routine…the tears come and I tell myself, just what part of this are you not getting? The emotional part - that’s the part. My analytical side has all of the logic problems well defined. But this isn’t a software problem to be solved. It is an emotional problem to be lived through. I didn’t fall in love with her in a moment. Actually it was quite subtle. I was not even dealing with her initially in that context. We just met at the store when we were shopping and had really interesting conversations. She was so witty - so was I. We were equals in that way. Intellectually we matched as well from our unique perspectives. And I have to say she was cute. And I never had a really serious conversation with someone like her. She was not available so I enjoyed the encounters for all of they were worth. The rest of that is another story. So how does a relationship so deep and so long - and from my perspective - and so wonderful - end? How do you settle it? Tears apparently. Lots of them. There must be a better way. I tell God, please make this something to strengthen me - make the love a foundation and not a weight of despair. That was not us. Can this not be so endlessly unbearable? Time will tell I’m sure. Until then, reality for me will have this harsh element. Beautiful memories or a person who I cannot comprehend living without. Only He can unwrap this 47 year old connection in a loving and gently way. Only He can make it a strength and not a burden. This I know He can do. And will do. In His time it will be.

Written Monday, September 16, 2019 / Day 35 / Evening Today started out in an odd way. It seemed normal. The answer to a prayer from the previous day. Yet these days normal is just plain odd. After weeks of emotional upheavals and crashes into deep despair, any semblance of normal is just very unexpected. The day, as it turned out was also normal. I delivered two gifts. One to our next door neighbor for her birthday. I’d have to say it looked just like my wife would have put it together. The other was a package to her mother. My wife would put together small gifts for her mother. Things to unwrap and thoughtful things she thought might be useful to her or give her a smile. There was even a card in her card warehouse already bought for her. I packaged up a lot of items my wife kept on hand - being the regular gift-giver that she was. There was enough in the house already so I added two of her mom’s favorite gift cards, photos printed out of the great grand children and a few other treats. Had wrapped most of them - so off the package went for delivery by Thursday - for her 95th birthday on Friday. Finished more laundry from the beach trip and made lunch…all very “normal” mind you. There were only a few moments of sadness. Mild in comparison to the typhoon of emotions that blew through the previous day. While looking at the weather I saw the most clever commercial - it just tickled me the way it was done - in 30 seconds it told a good little story in an unexpected way. Then the moment came when I would say, hey would you look…. Opps. No one there to hear me. A small moment. It didn’t bite all that much. It was deeply strange…in a normal way. I will head out to a group luncheon with former colleagues tomorrow. It will be nice to be with people. She was not a part of that so it may seem strangely normal. Except some of the conversations may be about her - how I’m doing, we’ll see. A “normal” day. How do you like that? Well, a lot really. We’ll see where this goes.

Written Monday, September 16, 2019 / Day 35 / Morning Living in grief means that feelings are your ruler. I am subject to the feelings of the moment it seems. And these aren’t just your normal melancholy feelings of being sad or upset or put off or whatever they might be. No these are the industrial strength feelings. Feelings that find you and take you outside and knock you around for a while until they are done with you. They leave you exhausted in every way - and they are part of the world of grief - at least from what I am experiencing. Yesterday was the first full day back after the week at the beach. So there were things to unpack, laundry to do, bills to pay and correspondence to complete that had been pressing on my mind to send out. But what was also a running theme throughout the day were the uncontrollable moments of anguish. Perhaps grief was trying to make up for my time away in the neutral environment - who knows, nothing right now can be understood as logical as much as that is my nature and I try to do it anyway. No these were quite intense moments where I just was so upset that my wife is not here. Sobbing and crying as the thoughts of the moment pressed on me. A deep despair with a touch of anguish. I went through my logic - but now with a follow-up twist - one I had used before. God, you took her, she is at peace, we are good with that. She is no longer suffering and that is wonderful. But I AM SUFFERING! Why does her peace mean I have to be suffering like this! You know how much I love her and I took care of her in every way - you KNOW that. I may do a lot of other things wrong - but you KNOW I TOOK CARE OF HER WITH MY WHOLE HEART! So rescue me from this anguish! This pain! Please take it away. You can supply every need of the human heart….so SUPPLY MINE! And so it went. At every occurrence of this intense emotion I would go through this thought process. It was a day of physical accomplishments - but in between the laundry and bills and correspondence were streams of tears and pleadings. As many of us in grief do experience we ask the questions: “How long must this go on?”, “I know they are no longer here - make this hurt go away!”. I would plead, I still want to love her - I know she is not here - just let memories be uplifting and not so incredibly sad. So the day ended. Off to bed I went. And when I awoke - several things seemed to be different. Once again, I had the very unusual feeling I was rested. As I have mentioned in other essays, that is not normal these days. So to feel rested is a real attention-getter to me. Interesting. Then, as I was marveling about being so rested another thing struck me. I feel sort of…together. How is that possible? Well I know how that is possible - I got a little help on that front. So I got up, still marveling about how together I was feeling. Are these perhaps just “feelings”? The day will tell. Or perhaps I have reached a new level. Well, grief and its friends are still in town, so we’ll see how it goes. I will enjoy the rest and the calm. And consider it another small step into my future.

This is Volume 2 of Essays on Grief. To follow the full journey, reading Volume 1 - The First 30 Days will take you to the point in time in which these essays begin. This volume takes you through the second 30 days of my grief journey. It has been a surreal, exhausting and disorienting time. It has truly been a day by day experience and as you will read even, at times, more intense than I though possible. Grief cannot be accommodated, knowledge bounces off of it like bullets off of Superman’s chest. Nothing can stop it. So you learn to endure it. Have I? I am the least qualified person to decide that. All I know that as the 61st day dawns, I am 61 days along in my journey. It isn’t all continuous sadness - but it has been a continuous reminder of what has been lost. Grief as I mentioned in the introduction to Volume 1, is a place I sincerely pray you never have to understand. And in continuing to join me in my journey you continue to undertake an amazingly brave thing. You are choosing to again enter my world. A world in which words are inadequate to describe. While you are here with me, your sharing of these essays will bring me a bit of comfort since sharing these deepest of deep thoughts and emotions is one of the greatest gifts of support you can give. There continues to be very difficult moments discussed in what you are about to read - moments I experience quite regularly. Please also remember - do not ever fear showing emotion - either privately as you read these essay or whenever the day comes that we may be together in person to talk about what is written here. And when we are together - please talk about her. Do not be afraid of that. Speaking of my dear Joann will strengthen me in ways we cannot even comprehend. Do not ever be concerned that you may “make me cry”. It will never be you that is the source of that emotion - it will come from the loving thoughts of a lost relationship and all that it means to me. Sharing these essays with you gives me great comfort. Thank you for joining me again.

Writing has played a significant role in my journey. These essays just keep coming on their own. That process in itself amazes and humbles me. It is like a journal and diary all rolled into one. This Volume 3 has overwhelmed me consistently. I will finish an essay and just break down. The emotions in my world of grief apparently now have a place to go. Each day seems to provide stunning new revelations and undefinable yet mildly perceptible progress. Progress in the fact that the overall mood is less intense as I have written in other essays. The trip to Buffalo, while seeming a little premature in one sense has turned out to be the catalyst to incredible pain, anguish and relief on several levels. As the reader, my desire would be for you to share with me any particular essays that touched you. Not only that they touched you - but in what way? I have found that in reading them - there has often been additional consolation. And as I have separately begun to write “Joann’s Story” (which is also my story as well) these essays appear to be supplementing that effort as well as generating essays themselves. So the journey will continue. Words continue to be inadequate for me to express how much it means to me that you want to be on this journey with me. Your bravery and love are appreciated in ways I am unable to communicate. Thank you for your love and continued prayers. They have brought me this far and will continue to lead me as God prepares the future He has in mind for me. I received a card from someone special who wrote this verse inside the card - it touched me so much when I read it at the time - it says it all about my current state: 17 The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles. 18  The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. 19 The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time. Psalm 34:17-19 (NLT)

Written Sunday, November 10, 2019 / Day 90 / Evening As the 90th day of this journey ends I am at my typical loss to explain how I am doing. Since the return from Buffalo on October 22nd - there have been extraordinary sorrows, extraordinary changes and extraordinary revelations. Looking back I marvel at how I have made it this far. The usual markers of living a life do not apply to me right now. So I only know that I am here and functioning at some level. Grief is still the formidable force that will always be a part of my life. It is waiting to pounce when it can. I appear to have a bit of a say in how I am affected by it. If there is any evaluation I could make at this point - it would be that the overall tenor of my life right now is less awful than it has been. The great weight of despair that has lifted in these past few weeks is a testimony of how God is leading me. With such a weight lifted - there is not as overwhelming a burden to bear. This is how He comforts us - He takes those burdens on for us. I am still a mess in many ways. I operate well and as that was my job for the last several years - somewhat normal in a sense. It was up to me to make the ship run - so running the ship is a bit normal. But the emptiness takes its shots at me all the time. That’s what grief does. I still have the incredible detachment from everything. My wife was my reason for living. It still remains to be seen what possibly can activate a future for me without her. It is my number one paradox that continually haunts me. But one I know whose resolution will come. I have an insane faith in the future. This amazes me in so many ways. As I have written before - I am not apathetic because it is not like I am choosing not to do anything - the reality is that there is nothing there at all. It is that vacuum as I have mentioned in the past. If a new life needs building materials, right now we have not received any shipments of anything that could remotely build a life of any kind. Yet, I see a time when that will be. It is the definition of faith. Things hoped for but that cannot be seen. That’s where I live right now. How could it be 90 days? How could this be real? Questions perhaps I will always ask. As we complete three months - I await what is ahead with a mixture of faith and ambivalence. A strange combination for sure. But such is the life I lead at this time. Such is the life God is directing at the moment - and to the future He has in store for me.

Written Sunday, November 10, 2019 / Day 90 / Morning I was approaching 22 years old - my birthday would be coming up on January 7th. As an only child, I wasn’t overtly spoiled - but I had a lot of what I wanted. I had my way and since I had no brothers or sisters to contend with I did not have to share. I grew up around adults. I was, thankfully in one sense, oblivious to the mechanics of life, men and women, romance and all that went along with it. I was an outsider to all of that drama which in a way I think protected me from mistakes in that area - since none of that ever drew me. In that day, at the very beginning of our relationship as it was knitting itself together in the background - oblivious to everyone we knew but the two of us - there came a point that I remember as vividly today as the day it happened. Memories are strange like that. Often you can’t remember certain things at all - other times, like this moment, are as real as when they first happened. I was sitting on my bed in my parents home in North Buffalo staring across the room and pondering on the situation that was taking place. I thought that I needed to make sure I was ready to accept going forward with it. Making my personal decision to commit to Joann and all that would unfold because of that decision. The relationship was like nothing I had ever experienced. Here was a girl who was interested in me. I wasn’t the typical guy. I would be the last person to attract a girl and I certainly wasn’t someone girls were attracted to because of what they saw. No, what we had was on another level. It was a deeper place. For her, she was coming from the situation of being married and looking towards having to end that and all the repercussions that would result among her family and friends. She had the bigger wall to scale in that sense. And for me - I was just the outsider - the spoiler as it would appear to the observers. I had nothing to separate myself from. I had no entanglements no involvements with anything or anyone. So on my end I had the easier road to take. But if this was to go forward - with all she would be facing - I would have to step up and take everything on - no matter what. Was I prepared to do that? Was this relationship worth all that? The resounding answer was yes. This was a special connection that was forming. It represented the love we both desperately longed for our entire lives. A love that no one ever showed to either of us. A love not based on the superficial, the temporary - but on commitment and caring and even qualities that we could not define yet compelled us onward. She was the most special person I ever had the privilege to meet. The last person I ever thought I could end up with. A person now caught in an impossible situation that would change her life in a way that would present insurmountable obstacles to both of us but to her more directly and intensely. Was I willing to go forward then - to say that on this day I am going forward and will never look back? The answer was yes. Yes. And then the most amazing thought I had. Now when I think back on this I am stunned at my maturity. The thought struck me that once we go forward - what if something changes in the future. I didn’t know what that could be - but the idea was that if some new condition arose - even years later that might change the relationship we had - change it in a way that was not good for me - that even hurt me in some way - would my commitment still stand? Quite the observation from the only-child, inexperienced 21 year-old. I don’t remember thinking that long about it either - the answer was yes. Totally yes. I loved her so much and would do anything for her - it did not matter what the future might throw at us - throw at me - she was worth it and always would be. As I write this now I am overcome with emotions. Because as it turned out - that is exactly what happened! In April, 2015 when the cancer resurfaced - my life actually ended and I gave every ounce of it to her until God took her to finish her race on August 12, 2019. I always knew that God had given me that incredible strength. Did He actually give me the idea and then the strength to carry it out? I absolutely believe that with all my heart. And it turned out to be the greatest gift that I could ever have received in this life. Despite all of the awful moments ahead of us - she was the most important, most special, most wonderful person I could have ever imagined knowing let alone being able to be with. No wonder I never really developed any hobbies like many men do - many develop interests outside of their relationship with their wife. They pursue interests that take them away from her. I was the recipient of the most incredible relationship that anyone could ever have. With Joann - I had a life with her. My life was her. She was my hobby. I just wanted to be with her - all the time. As I look back - now as I write this at age 68 - I do not regret having pursued any interests outside of her. She was just too special to not be with. Sure there were activities I could have pursued but they were just activities. I rejoice that I shared my life with her - and as long as I am still on this earth - always will. She was my love, my sweetheart. My Joann. The best decision that I had ever made.

Written Saturday, November 9, 2019 / Day 89 / Morning I am the type of person that attaches meaning to things. I’m not sure how that works or why I do it - but I always have. For some, things do not contain any meaning - they are just “things”. In my world however, things possess something more. Call it sentiment, call it historic, call it what you will - things to me are more than things. They represent either something that took place or something that they point to. Today would have been our 46th anniversary. I was thinking that in the milestone department I do not have that same connection that I do with things. Personally, apart from religious events, we were never ones to be overly concerned with dates. We didn’t celebrate the day we moved to Richmond, or the day that this happened or that happened to us. When I was faced with canceling the hotel reservation we had for this day, at first I was reluctant. Although I thought - “…are you still going to go…by yourself?”. The more I thought about it, the more absurd the idea became. It wasn’t the place or even the time that mattered - but being with her - in the place - that was the point. I am strangely calm as I write this despite the date - it seems like at this point today has relevance historically - but not any relevance emotionally. I appear to be neutral about the day. Of course, the day is young - we’ll see what it brings. But for now, there is no deep emotional reaction to what this day means. Now things, on the other hand, have a great power over me. As I navigate the house for one reason or another, I find that I run into moments where the things speak to me. A memory is revived. A previous situation unfolds. Past event becomes clear. That’s when it hits me. My continual prayer is that these situations will ultimately bring me strength. Because the bond I had with my dear sweetie is so strong, so powerful and is so enduring that it just brings back everything that was connected to it. Sorting out those moments is my job right now. I have two categories for the moments, those that build me up, and those that tear me down. Those that build me up make me smile. They give me comfort. Right now, those memories seem to be focused on our beginnings. I have begun to write about that time. It was when our love was new - when our relationship was new. Our relationship was forged in fire. The circumstances beyond the love were intense and formidable. But what was inside of us was more powerful because nothing could stop where we were going. We would marvel at the time - how so many elements of our life seemed to fall into place. We had no way of orchestrating any of them on our own - but situations, events and opportunities just became possible and probable. Although in the light of the present - we often lamented about some of the choices we had made and the pain they caused others. But for us - we were dealing with something that was beyond our conventions of the moment. It was beyond us. Ultimately that bond that was created became something that despite the obstacles that arose to destroy it - was the foundation of the life I led and gave to her until that day God said it was time for Him to take over and take my sweetie to complete her race. My work was done. On top of that extraordinary foundation was the life we built. To me it seems, these artifacts, these things are connected to that foundation. That is perhaps why they are so powerful. They are anchored to something extraordinary - how could they not get a little of that on them? And be so difficult to face now that the bond has been broken. That time is now over. And they are all I have to hold on to in the present time. I also am a big context person. I see the entire situation where it seems others only see portions of the whole. Because of this I see the picture that others cannot see. Not that they won’t - they just do not have that perception. This is a frustrating gift because it has always set me apart from the others who do not see what I see. My sweetie shared some of that with me. So when I pick up an item - I see a lot. It surrounds me. And if she was a part of it - she surrounds me as well. It is a glorious thing in one sense - but also a toxic thing in another. In these past 89 days I have expressed emotion on a level that has often stunned me for its intensity and depth. At times it has seemed endless. And in the beginning I let it take me to wherever it would take me. The destination was sadness and all the other emotions that are in grief’s arsenal. But over time, I have sorted some of those triggers. The sensitivity has lessened and that is a welcome change. But those elements that have meaning - they are still there. And when they come I now try to direct them to where I want them to go. To a place of strength. To a place of peace. To a place of honor for all she has meant to me. I do not deny the sadness - but I reject the despair. I’ve done that - I want to think I’ve served my time. In one sense yes, and in another sense I know there will always be some. But it will not immobilize me anymore. So on this day, the reminder of the most amazing moment in my life - the sadness I face is now tempered with a new realization. This is the day I have begun to see the answer to the prayer I have been praying - for so many weeks - to turn my grief into strength. That wonderful day I long for. The day that I know is coming. And today is the day that part of my journey has begun. What a tremendous tribute to the one I love and to the future I know she would want for me. The best meaning that this day could ever have.

Written Thursday, November 7, 2019 / Day 87 / Morning In the struggle to live with grief, one of the most difficult aspects to face is the loss of conversations. Like so many things we become used to in our struggle, the absence of conversations is one of the most difficult to face. The conversations with our loved one are now over. Because of technology, there are fragments of past conversations that can be relived. I have stumbled on a few and have not had the strength to really listen to any of them. There is an element of pain there right now that is too powerful to face. So I don’t. Our conversations changed over the years as we did. Living life and all that it means generates so many of them. They are just like the air, the sun, we just expect them to be there. And they are. Until they are not. In my case, sometimes our conversations were not all that involved. I know my sweetie was dealing with things she did not want to share with me. I wish I could have encouraged her to do that - but I know she didn’t want to make me upset. She was like that - and since I am very sensitive to re-living what has been lived and not wanting to re-experience any of the worst of those times - I stay safely away from all of that. Our world is deceived as far as conversations go. Everyone thinks they are having them - but they are not. At least not in the way they should be having them. In Richmond, Virginia there is a historic hotel - The Jefferson. It has been restored several times in its long history. When we first arrived 32 years ago - it was one of those attractions that had to be seen. Beyond its grandeur and elegance there was something that struck me about the hotel. Everywhere it seems, there were chairs. Couches and groups of chairs were located almost everywhere. It was hard to not run into one as we toured the facility. Why were there so many chairs? They were there because people back in the day actually spent time - lots of time, having conversations. And when they met at the hotel, that is what they did. There were not a lot of distractions as there are these days. Conversations and interacting with others was a normal and regular part of life. Today, people think they are communicating - but they are not. The computer systems that make us think we are having conversations are only a shadow of what real conversations are. Snippets of words and symbols do not communicate all that much. There is no depth to our conversations. Is it any wonder people do not feel fulfilled? In a sense - we do not really know anyone that deeply. Oh we may know their sports team, favorite restaurant or latest observations on our upside-down world - but what are they really like? What are there goals? Frustrations? Dreams? There is no time today to share those deeper thoughts. No time to share ourselves. So the loss of conversation is quite profound everywhere. Grief then introduces new barriers to conversation. Those of us in grief are actually not that interesting to those in the non-grief world. The thought that we might become upset prevents a lot of conversation - I know because that is how I used to feel. Me in my pre-grief world with all of it’s activity and life - how could I stop to be awkward with the person who had suffered the awful event that changed their life? What could I offer? How could I not make it worse? So I did nothing - or very little. Now I see how I could not have seen. So I don’t blame anyone for not reaching out all that much. I understand. I really do. It doesn’t make the lack of conversation any less disgusting as it is at the present. So I do try to reach out when I can. It is surprising that often I just don’t have the energy to do that. Other times, I really do not want to talk either. So there is a lot going on here. When I ever surface from this awful place - I hope I can have a different attitude. I hope I could encourage others to do the same. Perhaps from what I have been suffering I can shed some light. Perhaps make a difference. Perhaps, start a conversation.